Of Missiles and Mangroves: Part I (Scrub Jays and Historic Lighthouse)

Yesterday, I was privileged to tour Cape Canaveral Air Force Station with Don George, a biologist with the 45th Space Wing and one of the environmental engineers charged with protecting endangered species on the base and planning mitigation activities when an area of scrub is taken for the construction of new launch facilities. George only leads two tours per year, both of which occur during the Space Coast Birding Festival, sponsored by the Brevard Nature Alliance.

Our first stop was on a small rise a bit north of the trident basin, where George called up a family of endangered Florida scrub jays, who responded to his pishing and a handful of acorns.

As we watched the birds picking up and then burying each nut, we learned that there are 144 families of scrub jays living in this roughly 15000 acre area. One of George's missions is to keep the habitat in a condition that will support the scrub jay, which means periodic burnings, sometimes within feet of buried stores of solid rocket fuel.

Our next stop was at the Cape Canaveral Lighthouse, which was built in 1848, then rebuilt in 1868 so that it could be seen for 16 miles, rather than the original 10 miles. At that time, the port was an offshore area that was bounded on the east by a reef, not the deep water port that visitors see today. In 1894 the lighthouse was relocated about a mile and a half inland because of beach erosion. (1/2 mile of that distance has disappeared into the ocean since then.) In 1954 the light was automated, in 1993, the fresnel lens was removed and a modern optic was installed, and in 2000, ownership of the lighthouse was transferred from the Coast Guard to the U.S. Air Force (in fact, the Canaveral Light is the only lighthouse owned by the air force.)

The light went dark from 2004 until 2007, as the building was being restored. The keeper's house no longer exists, but the brick oil shed is still adjacent to the building. This is a photo of the iconic black and white light as it stands, today.

Poached!

Last summer I photographed these amazing butterfly orchids growing in the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge. Since the plants are fairly obvious to the knowledgeable observer as you drive by, I've kept an eye on them whenever I've been out there. Last time out, all that remained on the branch of the cedar tree were a handful of roots and scars in the bark. The orchids had been poached by someone who knows what wild orchids look like when they are not in bloom or by someone who had been waiting for the right moment.

Sad. Very sad.

Poaching of wild orchids has been a problem in Florida for many years; Susan Orlean wrote a book, Orchid Thief, about some infamous poachers of the ghost orchid, a very rare and hauntingly beautiful Florida wild orchid that grows only in swamps in the Everglades. (One very famous ghost orchid has been blooming along the Corkscrew Swamp boardwalk for the past few years; it's become popular with photographers and orchid enthusiasts, alike.) And in 2006, a Nancy Drew mystery covered the same topic.

The sale of wild orchids is illegal, but it's difficult to prove whether a particular specimen offered for sale was taken from the wild or grown from seed.

Maybe the person who took these orchids is just an ass who wanted to keep them all to him/herself and doesn't have an interest in propagating and selling the orchid. Whatever. I'm pissed off. This is the sort of behavior that causes access to wilderness areas to be "closed to the public."

Anyway . . . what's my point? Well, if you're reading this blog, you love nature, probably, as much as I do. Consider it your duty to keep a watchful eye on things as you hike, or bike, or walk, or meander through the wild. If you see something suspicious--someone digging through the dirt or picking flowers or ripping orchids off a tree--report it to a park ranger! Immediately.

Backyard Birding

With smoke from the Palm Bay muck fire drifting through the area all day, I decided to hang out and watch the birds in my back yard, rather than head out to the wetlands. Since I have a brand new back yard, with what could be considered a non-existant canopy and very little cover for birds, it's been difficult establishing my feeding stations as a safe place for birds to be. My only regulars have been a half dozen mourning doves and a couple of cardinals. A large flock of palm warblers drifts across the lawn several times a day, but they do not visit the feeders.

The cooing of mourning doves (Zenaida macroura) is one of my favorite sounds; however, they tend to be messy and don't like to share the feeders with other birds. Some people mistake them for pigeons, but while they are in the same family, doves are of a different species. Until the trees get bigger and other birds get comfortable using the feeders, I'll take them, anyway! They are difficult to spook, and they seem to be getting used to having Joey wander around in the yard while they are at the feeder.

Palm warblers (Dendroica palmarum) seem to be ubiquitous this winter! Hundreds live in the woods behind my house and dozens work the back yard for insects and tiny seeds all day every day. Their call is a sweet and high whistle that fills the air when they are on the move, and they don't seem to be bothered by either myself or Joey until we get within 4-5 feet.

Hopefully, these regulars will bring in some migrants when spring begins to draw near. . .