Mac Stone Photography Blog

Murder of Crows

2012-01-24T00:32:00.001-05:00

Two crows attack an osprey nest off the coast of Flamingo

As if the Everglades didn't have it tough enough with restricted water flows and enormous invasive pythons, an additional assailant has found refuge in the park. The American crow, whose call can be heard from Cape Sable to Flamingo arrived with the influx of visitors who leave their food unattended and car doors open. Unsatisfied with the scraps of tourists, they have moved on to finer dining. On the islands close to mainland, spoonbills and reddish egret nests are pillaged by roving gangs of crows leaving only hollowed eggs and bloody carcasses. Suspected to attack only when the parents are off the nest, Audubon has coordinated with Everglades National Park to close several channels that pass through sensitive nesting areas for this very reason. I was surprised then, when I witnessed two crows attacking an osprey nest as the mother stood guard over her clutch. They pecked, squawked, and surrounded her for 20 minutes until giving up, probably to return the following day for another fight. If they are this bold with a sharp-beaked and razor-taloned osprey, how would they fair against an unassuming pink spoonbill?

Two spoonbill eggs eaten by crows. Photo by Adam Chasey

I've already found at least 6 nests ravaged by crows, and if the problem persists, it could just be enough to force a colony to abandon their young. Not too long ago a burmese python was spotted swimming in Florida Bay, probably on its way to one of the mangrove islands. Imagine if a 10-foot python descended on a wading bird rookery. At this rate, maybe it's only a matter of time. Do we really need to love all creatures equally?

Send Off: Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition

2012-01-18T00:24:00.000-05:00

Just before Carlton pushes off for the first day of his expedition, he and I pose for a photo on Florida Bay

This morning Jerry Lorenz and I drove out to Flamingo in Everglades National Park to send off a friend and fellow conservation photographer Carlton Ward Jr. who embarked on a 1,000 mile expedition. This adventure is known as the Florida Wildlife Corridor and will help to lay the foundation of a conservation initiative linking critical fragmented landscapes. It's an extremely bold task and I'm so upset I can't go with him. Joining Carlton, is filmmaker Elam Stoltzfus, and bear biologist Joe Gutherie, two brave souls who say they're "in it to win it." Carlton's expedition will meet up with artists and paddlers all over Florida as they make their way north. I'm planning on meeting them on the 24th while accompanying the Arthur Marshall Foundation who are on their own paddling expedition to show the importance of our waterways in south Florida. First, though he'll have a hearty paddle up to Avocado Creek and then a rough slog atop jagged limestone through miles of sawgrass in Shark Slough. When I said goodbye to Carlton and his crew today, he said, "I'll see see you in a few days!" With a nervous tone I replied, "Yeah, I hope so..."

State director of research Jerry Lorenz speaks on behalf of Audubon Florida about the importance of Florida Wildlife Corridor at the edge of Florida Bay.

Winter, By Any Other Name...

2012-01-14T15:01:00.000-05:00

Adam Chasey climbs a palm tree in Key Largo to retrieve a coconut for his dog River

No one takes our winters seriously. Here we are, having to put on jeans and fleeces and I get no sympathy from my northern friends. It's rough I tell you. My brother, Will, visiting from North Carolina for the weekend couldn't believe we spent all day in swim suits and tank tops while lounging at a bayside park in the middle of January. While the rest of the country is bundling up and tucking their cold feet into the cracks of a warm couch, we're firing up the grill and chasing sunsets. Two days ago I watched an excited couple walk through the neighborhood carrying a bottle of wine and a full couch to the end of a boardwalk in Key Largo. What a crazy thing. People scoff, saying, "Pshh, you have no seasons," in a tone that sounds more like, "You have no soul," but I'm okay with that. They can keep their gray skies and icy roads. I'll stay down here with the other lost sun-kissed souls.

The Price of Science

2012-01-10T19:10:00.000-05:00

Unknown fish species, found off Curacao this past December

In 1997 Dr. Grant Gilmore, a marine biologist, captured an unidentified fish off the coast of Cuba. The scientific community had never documented this species before. In order to be designated a new species, however, he needed two samples. Hopeful, he kept his ear to the ground waiting for someone to find his missing paratype. Fourteen years later, this December he received word from a commercial fish collector based in the Keys who captured an unknown species matching the description of his original holotype. Unfortunately he wasn't the only one in the market for rare fish. Collectors all over the world also seek out coastal businesses and divers to purchase unique species for their aquariums, and they're willing to pay top dollar. Dr Gilmore knew he didn't have long before it disappeared into a private collection so he called Dr Jerry Lorenz to help document its existence. That same day, a Japanese aquarist purchased the 3-inch fish for $4,500. This gave us a two-day window to make a positive id.

Helping hands make sure the fish doesn't leap out of the make-shift tank

The next morning Jerry, his wife Linda, and I traveled to Marathon and spent twenty minutes photographing a very stressed fish. Pulled from 400 feet below the water's surface, its colors changed dramatically since original capture making it impossible for Dr Gilmore to confirm it as a paratype without closer inspection; a sad loss for science. The fish now swims in a private aquarium in Japan and poses an important question about the relationship between science and its stakeholders.

The free market has subsidized countless scientific revolutions over the last century. By placing a value on discovery, the researchers, explorers, and biologists of the world can afford to dedicate their lives to opening new doors and expanding our knowledge of the living world. Scientists depend on the funding from investors to conduct their research, just as fish collectors depend on buyers to finance their operational costs. In this fiscal marriage, it seems inevitable that the two will eventually quarrel. What happens then, when the cold heart of capitalism starts steering the altruism of science? Should the same laws that govern supply and demand be allowed to creep their way into the scientific method?

Lost and Found

2012-01-03T09:23:00.001-05:00

Florida Bay mangrove islands with the Gulf Stream clouds and Florida Keys in the background.

I love watching adventure shows where the protagonist drops in on an island and must use his immediate resources to survive or escape. I'm always skeptical too, of the serendipity that Bear Grylls just happens to find a 30 foot rope, a lighter, or gallon jugs half-filled with potable water washed up on the shores. Surely, the producers must have planted some of that stuff before filming. I held this skepticism until I started exploring the islands in Florida Bay for our spoonbill research with Audubon. Now, I find myself eager to go to work if not just for the spoonbills but also because I never know what I'll find while walking through mangrove tangles or kayaking along the mud flats.

Mangrove prop roots act as nets trapping all matter of floating debris.

The most common things I find are colorful stone crab buoys which at a distance have fooled me to believing there were flamingos in the central bay. I have also started a collection of drink cozies with faded tackle shop labels. Antique bottles are a great treasure to find and I have a couple that date back a century. There's no shortage of homeless sandals either. Crocs brand are the most common, and if anyone needs a size 9, 10, or 12, then I have you covered. Why is it always the left shoe that people lose?

A boat enters into Trout Creek in the northeastern Bay.

It's no surprise really. With all the boaters, residents, and visitors to the Keys and Everglades a few things are bound to arrive on the islands of this 850 square-mile wilderness. For years the Everglades was renowned for its lawless backcountry allowing drug smugglers a perfect location for trafficking. Veteran fishing guides who wish to remain nameless, muse on the days of their biggest catches, landing large "square groupers," caught in the tidal flats which would fetch $200,000 at market price.

While contraband busts rarely run the headlines, the Everglades remains vast and largely unpatrolled by park officials. Just last week, while exploring an island in the northwest Bay, I saw something strange washed up on a sandy beach.

A homemade Cuban life raft washed up on the shore of an island in the northwest Bay.

A blue vessel, made of canvas stretched over two large tire inner tubes with oar-locks, and a heavy plastic keel, sat abandoned at the high tide line. At closer inspection, inside the cockpits were cans of tuna, varying flavors of soda, and a couple of sweaters. Although the labels slightly worn, I could tell immediately where this raft came from. It's incredible to think two people floated in open ocean aboard this backyard-assembled dinghy. Being only 90 miles from Cuba, Florida Bay is really the perfect destination for refugees. I just hope they didn't get too antsy and try to swim the remaining 5 miles to mainland through the shark and croc-infested water. For a moment, I looked up, scared to find the stranded sailors watching me from the trees, but at this point they were long gone.

A 14 foot American crocodile suns on the banks of Cape Sable in Florida Bay.

I may not be Bear Grylls, but I'd like to think that if I were to be stranded on one of these islands, I'd be able to survive just fine. With my luck, I'd just hop on the next abandoned life raft and paddle safely to shore, gorging on canned tuna and orange soda.

Christmas Bird Count!

2011-12-29T14:32:00.001-05:00

A peregrine falcon must have scared this flock of shorebirds in Florida Bay. The sound they made while flying was incredible.

Every year National Audubon conducts bird counts in each state to assess the health and status of bird populations around the country. From December 14th through January 5th of 2012, thousands of volunteers selflessly dedicate their time to slog, hike, boat, and paddle with guide books, binoculars, and checklists in hand. For many, this has become a family tradition as it's a great excuse to get outside and see some incredible wildlife while contributing to conservation.

Rafael uses a scope to identify shorebirds in the distance at one of the keys in central Florida Bay

To be honest, I was a little nervous about my first count. I know my wading birds and raptors fairly well but identifying shorebirds and songbirds is so frustratingly difficult for me that I feel I'm a disgrace to the Audubon name. My redemption would be found in calling out the bright pink roseate spoonbills flying against the stark blue sky. Fortunately, I was assigned to be captain of a boat with two of the most knowledgable birders and naturalists I've ever met. Rafael Galvez and Michelle Davis just finished a bird count on the Dry Tortugas two days prior and politely assured me all I would have to do is steer the boat. Huge sigh of relief.

The Tavernier Science Center hosted the bird count of Florida Bay and the Upper Keys. With a team of 15 birders, biologists, enthusiasts, and naturalists we scoured the region from 6:30 AM until 6:00 PM. We identified 95 species and counted 11,164 individuals!

Semipalmated sandpiper, as close as I could get with a 400mm lens.

Part of the purpose of the bird count is to also help determine the range and migratory behaviors of certain birds. Our team spent a great deal of time just trying to verify the identity and number of semipalmated sandpipers. Florida Bay, it turns out, is the only place where these birds don't continue to fly south for the winter. Florida Bay is also the only place to find prairie warblers with a distinctive orange coloration in their faces.

The hardest groups to count, however, were the floating mats of cormorants. Any guesses as to how many are in the photo above?

After participating in my first bird count, I can see how it attracts so many volunteers. My group alone accounted for 5,640 birds, which is an incredible sight to behold in an 11 hour period. I would highly recommend the Christmas Bird Count to anyone looking to spend a day outside for a cause certainly worth supporting. I'm definitely going to make it an annual tradition, wherever I might be.

Roseate Spoonbills

2011-12-21T21:45:00.000-05:00

A mix of adult and juvenile spoonbills in flight at Snake Bight

Starting in November, I accepted a small promotion within Audubon's Tavernier Science Center office as head of spoonbill research. For the last two years I have been working with prey-base fish monitoring, so this will be a much welcomed change. The spoonbill position requires that I go into the field every week to collect data on spoonbill populations and their nesting success for the entire Florida Bay. Doing so means that I must visit nearly every island in search of spoonbills and report back to state director of research, Jerry Lorenz. So far it's been slow as water levels are still fairly high, but we're not quite sure what to expect this year. Already we're seeing some shifts in their range, but only recently did I find my first nest.

The first spoonbill eggs found on an island in the central part of Florida Bay

Trends have shown an overall decline in spoonbill nesting success in Florida Bay. In the northeast Bay, colonies once hosted up to 600 nesting pairs, now we're struggling to find a handful. These declines started right after the construction of the C-111 canal that drained much of the Taylor Slough watershed out to the Atlantic. Our research is helping to provide water management authorities with the empirical data they require to shape policies and change the flow of water. It is our belief that bringing more freshwater back into the system will provide more productive foraging grounds for spoonbills and other wading birds.

Only time will tell us if we're on the right track as Everglades restoration plans are underway. In the mean time, I'll enjoy trudging through mangrove islands and boating across the Bay in search of these pink beauties.

Where the Wild Things Are

2011-12-18T22:02:00.000-05:00

That's what Hannah said as she walked, crunching the brittle ground with every step under a palm tree canopy lining the shore of Myakka River. It was perfect the way it hit her, like recognizing an old friend. She couldn't stop smiling, gazing around at the strange landscape. And I felt the same way too when I first visited Myakka River State Park ten years ago. There's something incredibly wild, fabled, and yet, familiar about this place, like we've been told about it before.

As a dedicated member of the sunshine state's PR team, it's my job and great pleasure in life to reconnect people with this fantastical alternative reality that is old Florida. Just a few days ago we were paddling down the Turner River when a visiting friend from California (home of the redwood forest, giant sand dunes, and some of the most dramatic vistas in the country) said, "This reminds me of Lord of the Rings." I was beaming with pride. For all of us lucky folks that call this wonderful state "home," take the reins and share your backyard with your out-of-town families this holiday season. Take them to one of your favorite places. Show them around Florida; where prehistoric reptiles roam the rivers, emerald springs boil from the earth, and fluorescent-pink birds decorate the blue sky. It is, after all, where the wild things are.

Florida's Special Places: Corkscrew Swamp

2011-12-15T07:43:00.000-05:00

About four months ago I started a proposal with the help of National Geographic producer Katie Carpenter and director of Audubon Florida Eric Draper to create short HD videos highlighting Audubon's role in protecting Florida's special places. The idea came at the heels of my Florida Bay videos as I began to realize that a great deal of the public has very little clue of what this organization does around the state. We thought that combining interviews with compelling imagery and videography would be a great way to connect to the masses.

October was my first shoot, as it was a time-sensitive issue. Around the second week of that month every year wild sunflowers bloom and surround Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. It's a spectacular sight to see and if we were going to include it in the video we wanted to capture it at its peak.

Jason Lauristen (left) and Adam Chasey roll through a trail of sunflowers at sunrise

Thankfully, Jason Lauritsen the assistant director of Corkscrew was willing to wake up before dawn and pick us up in one of their swamp buggies. This put us up above the sunflowers and offered a really unique perspective that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to get.

I spent the next two days slaving away from dawn until dusk capturing as many close-up and wide angle shots as I could before wrapping it up. The devil is in the details and I'm still learning to think like a videographer. Because we have a set budget I had to treat the assignment like I would never be coming back, so the added pressure helped to keep me shooting all day. A lot goes into these small productions and while digital SLRs are great in that now include high definition video capabilities, there's no limit on the amount of accessories you need to make it fluid. I'm usually a very light traveler (in comparison to some other photographers) because I like staying mobile. No such luck on this trip. My packing list included:

Canon 5d mark ii camera body
Canon 24-105mm lens
Canon 16-35mm lens
Canon 100-400mm lens
Canon 100mm macro lens
Redrock Micro shoulder mount
Manfrotto tripod with fluid head
Manfrotto tripod with ball head
Two Canon external strobes
Rode Videomic Pro
Sennheiser wireless mics
Diffuser
4 Batteries
100gb of flash memory cards
500gb external hard drive
MacBook laptop

And there's still more I've acquired since then! Luckily I drove my truck. Although, the truck didn't help much when I had to schlep most of this gear down the boardwalk all day. I hope you enjoy the video. Feel free to share it with friends. It was edited by Josh Cook in New York and will be the first in several more to come.

Turner River

2011-12-13T07:53:00.000-05:00

The Turner River

Two places that I've been hearing about since I arrived in 2009 are the Dry Tortugas and the Turner River. While it's shameful that I still haven't made it to the islands off the coast of Florida, Turner River is a lesser-known, but equally beautiful area in Everglades National Park, just two hours from my doorstep. A group of ten friends got together this weekend to paddle the river on a ten-mile one-way trek out to Chokoloskee. I knew it was going to be a promising trip when a one-eyed, nine-foot alligator was guarding the entrance.

Whitewater rushes out of a mangrove forest along the banks of the Turner River

For the first three miles we floated through freshwater mangrove tunnels. Our paddles were nearly useless so we grabbed the limbs like monkey bars and swung our way until reaching open water. To my amazement, we came upon a ripping tributary that was gushing whitewater over a mangrove bank. I have never seen whitewater in the Everglades, frankly because there just isn't enough relief to create riffles. I didn't have enough time to go find the source, but it's very possible it was spring-fed.

Garl Harrold and Linda Lorenz happy to arrive at Chokoloskee

After four hours on the water, we made it to Chokoloskee, just barely out-running a storm as the sun was setting. I'd love to go back to explore those mangrove tunnels a little more with my camera. There are certainly more photos to be had in such a primeval place. Until then, I'll just enjoy having spent a wonderful afternoon with my friends in another one of Florida's hidden gems.

Audubon Aventure Sunday crew

Winter's Approach

2011-12-10T23:39:00.003-05:00

Rainbow over the mangrove shoreline of Madiera Bay in Everglades National Park

We had our first bite of winter last week. It's strange. One day I'm snorkeling in the Bay, the next, I'm wearing a ski hat and winter coat while boating to work. I love this time of year. Migratory birds are filling the skies and roseate spoonbills are starting to build nests. The mornings are electric with piercing warm light that seems to last for an hour. On the open water, crisp zephyrs rip across the Bay ushering in the seasonal shift. The wind is changing and there's no better place to put it than a couple of sails.

Sailing on Florida Bay we met up with Jerry Lorenz on his boat, R. mangle

It seems like it's my first weekend in quite some time where I'm not running around at a thousand miles per hour trying to juggle deadlines and catching flights. So when my friend Steve Pollock invited me out on his newly restored sailboat, it actually felt strange to say yes. Sometimes the grind keeps me going, it keeps me fulfilled knowing that my time bears fruit. Sometimes though, it's just nice to turn off the motor and go slow for a change.

A pod of dolphins play behind the R. mangle

Until It Sings

2011-11-21T21:05:00.001-05:00

Nature photography is a labor of love. It takes a lot of patience and serious type-A focus flowing through your veins to make the shot and sit satisfied with the result. I'm constantly reviewing old images and thinking of how I could have done them better. I'm never satisfied. I'm not sure if this is a character flaw or just a layer of callous that's built up from years of relationships with picky editors. When I first starting learning, a great mentor and friend of mine, Nancy Rotenberg, used to tell me to "shoot it 'till it sings." While this was a great motto, I really just used it as an excuse to indulge my compulsiveness. I'm becoming more and more self conscious of this as I'm in the field with friends and coworkers who sit and wait for me to finish photographing, but luckily, they're more patient than I am.

A couple weeks ago we found a healthy population of tadpoles swimming around in one of our equipment rinse tanks. I brought a few home to photograph different stages of their lives for a composite image. It was a fun project that I thought would take only an hour. The more I photographed, however, the pickier I got and the more I demanded from these little amphibians. Before I knew it, I spent 4 hours photographing 5 very uncooperative tadpoles and pollywogs. I worked every angle and wouldn't rest until I had all my bases covered.

After compiling the images, I was thrilled to see the genesis of this small afternoon project. What started out as one-dimensional photos, turned into a three-dimensional story about time and form. And for me, that's when it sings. But I still wasn't satisfied. It was killing me that the last frog wasn't a true adult. It crawled under my skin that the series could be better, and yet I published the photo knowing there was still room for improvement.

In art, this is a big no-no. We're only supposed to display our pieces, always showing our best face. I've never been comfortable with this idea, though. I appreciate the often slow and steady pace of creativity. Sometimes I just need to move on from a photo in order to come back and see it in its best light. Hitting the "publish" button often provides that necessary distance.

Tonight I found the missing piece to this image, sitting right outside my front door. As soon as I saw the Cuban tree frog adult, I grabbed my camera equipment and set up a studio knowing exactly what position I wanted of him for the final portrait. With a little help from Adam Chasey, frog-wrangler extraordinaire and most patient man alive, I got the photo I needed. Like a kid on Christmas morning I immediately uploaded the photos and began working on the finished piece.

I'm pretty happy with this one. My compulsiveness is at bay. At least for now. Well, until I start thinking about adding a clump of eggs at the bottom left.

At a Loss

2011-11-18T07:59:00.002-05:00

Water management in south Florida has been at the forefront of environmental and political debate ever since the turn of the twentieth century. Surprisingly, even today with all that we know of the Everglades and its significance to Florida and imperiled watersheds all around the world, we're still struggling to get it right.

This September the two agencies in charge of Everglades restoration efforts, the South Florida Water Management District and the Army Corps of Engineers, slashed their funding of scientific monitoring programs by 60%. These monitoring programs help gauge the effectiveness of Everglades restoration and are the foundation in which water management policies are shaped. Without the science, we're essentially losing the cause-and-effect data that tells us if our restoration projects are working. As you know, the Army Corps and SFWMD's funding comes from taxes, from us. By the power vested in Gov Rick Scott, the budget cuts were designed to cut taxes and reduce state spending, so he looked for places to trim the fat; somewhere no one would notice. But instead, he chose the backbone fund of Everglades restoration.

The taxes to be cut are taxes on homeowners. If you have a home valued at $100,000 then you are saving $15 a year from this monumental tax break. I know what you're thinking, "holy crap, what am I going to do with all this extra cash now?!" The possibilities are endless. At the cost of science and hundreds of jobs, we can all enjoy a few more lattes from Starbucks or that leopard-print Snuggie we've always wanted.

The truth is that we've been here before and it didn't work. We tried water management without monitoring programs, which is why we're now stuck spending 14 billion dollars to bring our Everglades back. History alone should teach us that we're far from understanding the complexities of mother nature, but the more we invest in the comprehensive science, the better our understanding will be, and the more informed we will become when making decisions for our people and environment.

A satellite-tagged crocodile, one of Frank Mazzotti's, who's program was eliminated after the budget cuts.

To give you a little perspective, the overall price tag of Everglades restoration is $14,000,000,000. With these cuts, $4,000,000 will be taken away and thus the funding to many key programs such as fish monitoring, crocodile and alligator research, submerged aquatic vegetation studies, and several other water quality programs. For such invaluable data, it's merely a drop in the budget bucket, not even one percent. By definition these monitoring programs are the only way we have of knowing for sure if the other $13,996,000,000 we spend is going to good use.

A plug on East Cape Canal at Cape Sable keeps saltwater from pushing further

into the freshwater Everglades ecosystem. Tavernier Science Center's sample site

was just beyond the plug, but no longer receives funding to conduct research there.

We are one of the lucky few at Tavernier Science Center. Well, lucky in that we still have jobs. Our budget also suffered from the cuts and we lost nearly half of our sample sites. We closed sites at Cape Sable where they just finished putting in plugs to stop saltwater encroachment, so we won't know if they're working to restore the freshwater ecosystem. We were also forced to close sites in the Biscayne Bay area and northeastern Florida Bay. No longer will we have access to helicopters, so last month we had to decommission four locations hauling all of our equipment out in a swing-loaded cargo net. State director of research, Jerry Lorenz, decided to take a day away from the office to help breakdown our Rocky Creek site, and see it for the last time.

He and I flew out early in the morning over the ridge and sloughs of the southern Everglades. Restricted water flows had started to show their subtle but detrimental affect on the landscape, now clearly visible at 800 feet. He looked on, despondent and removed, like an artist stepping back from the canvas to see strokes and details incongruous with his original vision.

Jerry Lorenz stands with a boat loaded up with nearly 500 pounds of re-bar, PVC, lumber,

and hydrological equipment, all to be sent back to the office in Tavernier.

When we landed at Rocky Creek and hauled away the first load of boardwalks, Jerry had trouble finding the words to express his disappointment. It took days to build the site, months to scout it out, and years to figure out its place in the greater watershed. After a matter of hours, it was completely gone. The helicopter carried out the last load and we sat silent, tired, and wet under the dissipating hum of the propeller. Jerry looked on as it faded into the horizon, but stayed watching, perhaps hoping that it would turn back around.

A deep sigh from a frail resolve was the only audible sound I heard as we crouched in the water, quietly waiting to be picked up. Disappointing is hardly the word. Heartbreaking is more appropriate. I could see it in his face and weighing on his shoulders. Jerry and a number of other biologists have invested their lives protecting the Everglades through science and reason. Ever since restoration became a statewide conversation they have been Florida's most trusted voices. Now their throats are hoarse from screaming into deaf and often indifferent ears.

TRCP Media Summit

2011-11-11T21:09:00.003-05:00

I'm just now catching up from a very hectic but satisfying month. I'm a little sleep deprived and a little overwhelmed right now, but that's good, it means there's lots to share from my little corner of the world.

TRCP board member Jim Martin speaks to guests at the Saltwater Media Summit

Hosting their first annual Saltwater Media Summit in Sarasota, FL at MOTE marine lab, the Theodore Roosevelt Conservation Partnership (TRCP) invited me to attend as a member of their media team and to document the convention. For three days journalists, environmental writers, biologists, former lobbyists, and leading figures in the saltwater fishing community congregated to discuss the future of our fisheries and coasts. The shoot was to be pretty straightforward: afternoons filming indoors during presentations, evenings mixed with interviews and testimonials, and mornings filming backcountry fishing. By the end of the conference, TRCP wanted to be able to compile a video to release to potential attendees and sponsors for future events, so I would need to take both stills and video with enough footage to fill 4 minutes. Seems pretty easy, right? Well, if you're banking on two days of in-the-field video, which is the heart of the final product, and then you're suddenly only given ONE, you start to sweat a little.

Eric Schwabb, president of NOAA fisheries casts for ladyfish in the bay

TRCP decided to have this summit in Florida because our sunshine state has the largest fishing and boating industry in the US (17 billion dollars). We're a state that understands the importance of these businesses for our economy and we're trying to get it right. Fishing in Florida supports hundreds of thousands of jobs and steers the livelihoods of people from coast to coast. Fishing is a hot topic in the environmental community but the bottom line is that we need it, but we need to manage it properly. TRCP is helping by providing a network and platform for the marine scientists to converse with writers and the policy makers who affect change at the legislative and public levels.

Thursday morning I was scheduled to be in a boat fishing and filming with Whit Fosbourgh, president of TRCP and Guy Harvey, of, well, Guy Harvey. That is, until a rogue cold front sent straight from the devil himself shattered those chances with 30 mph winds. You can imagine how bummed I was. So instead, as a backup plan, MOTE marine lab offered us a tour of their aquaculture center.

A biologist at MOTE aquaculture center uses a sonogram to check a sleeping

sturgeon for eggs, while journalist Steve Waters looks on

I've been to many fish farms in the past, but they were only glorified holes in the ground that offered city-anglers the chance to catch their dinner. MOTE's facility was a fully self-sustaining laboratory that harvested sturgeon for caviar and filets. While I love to catch my own fish from the Atlantic, after three hours in their center, I started seeing this operation as a real solution to meeting market demands of threatened species or a slew of other fish for that matter.

Later on that evening the winds died down and we had a green light from the local fishing guides for our sunrise outing on Friday morning. Since this would be the meat of the final video, we decided to dedicate a chaser vessel strictly to bounce me around from boat to boat to get footage of as many anglers as possible. We had beautiful light and I was amazed at the diversity of fish that people were catching. One boat counted 12 species of fish in just three hours! If that doesn't speak to the productivity, diversity, and importance of Florida's waters, then I don't know what will.

In the three days at the summit I made some great connections and learned a lot about the necessary marriage between resource management and Florida's economy. I'm excited for the conversations that were sparked and even more thrilled about the actions that will follow. Spreading the word is what it's all about and I'm honored to be part of that movement.

TRCP board member Connie Parker and Bart Hudson, the president of the Florida House in
Washington DC received two of my canvas prints as gifts for their support.

Stay tuned for the video!

A Day with a Legend: Nathaniel Reed

2011-11-07T22:39:00.000-05:00

Nathaniel Reed on Lake Okeechobee

You would be hard-pressed to find anyone more influential and active in Everglades restoration as Nathaniel Reed. He is a giant, both physically and legislatively for the conservation of Florida and even the world. He's known for serving under six governers, two presidents, and is partly responsible for such legislation as the Clean Air, Clean Water, and Endangered Species Acts. Yeah, big time.

Expanses of spike rush are critical habitat for all sorts of aquatic fauna

Last week, it was one of my greatest privileges to share a boat with Nathaniel on assignment for Audubon Magazine. Guided by Paul Gray (left), another dominating figure in Everglades restoration, and FWC biologist Don Fox (right), we explored the marsh habitats of Lake Okeechobee.

A snail kite brings in an apple snail for lunch

These seasonally flooded grasslands are one of the main habitats for apple snails which are the sole diet for the snail kite, an endangered species. Recently, kite populations have been increasing and the bird community is buzzing. I felt so lucky to share the moment when Nathaniel watched a kite fly in and devour a snail right in front of the boat.

Ironically, I was shooting video for the magazine to run as a companion piece to their recent feature story on Everglades water issues written by Ted Williams. So I will let you know when that's ready to view online. Until then, I just wanted to share my excitement of spending an afternoon with one of Florida's true heroes.

Florida Forever Calendars on sale now!

2011-10-29T17:13:00.001-04:00

Cover image by Will Dickey of Round Marsh

Some of you may remember my post about photographing in the Green Swamp on assignment for the Florida Forever 2012 conservation photography calendar. Well, the final product is finally here and just in time for the holidays. The calendars arrived yesterday and they are BEAUTIFUL! It is such a privilege to be among the 11 other nature photographers from around the state to be selected for this project. The calendar highlights 12 potential project sites for Florida Forever from around the state. Flipping through the pages, you get a real sense of the diversity of natural areas at stake. With enough public support, the Florida Forever program will remain a priority and we will have the chance to conserve and protect our natural heritage. The calendars make great stocking stuffers and gifts for friends and family as we come into the new year. Help spread the word of awareness and share the beauty of our fragile state!

Use the secure PayPal link below to order your copy today!

Venture Out! Gator Babies

2011-09-30T11:36:00.000-04:00

Following up with the study on American alligator nests in Everglades National Park, I was able to get up in the helicopter with Mark Parry again this month to check up on the nests we surveyed in late July. The plan was to conduct aerial surveys to determine which nests were flooded, hatched, still incubating, or predated upon.

Besides being important indicators for Everglades’ health, which Mark explains in the video, baby alligators might possibly be the cutest things to ever come out of an egg. Their disarming grunts, squishy yolk-filled bellies, and gummy jaws make it hard to fathom they're the same "man-eaters" people consider them today. I imagine t-rex hatchlings were just as adorable, though. Even April was getting attached to her little friend. I'm pretty sure if Mark and I weren’t there, she would have slipped one into her pocket.

We planned on being in the air the whole day, but luckily we had some opportunities to land the helicopter and investigate a couple nests. Unfortunately, however, with the majority of our time spent circling nests and banking to get better views, my stomach was in revolt. Maybe it was the leftover fajitas I had that morning, maybe it was the awkward perspective shifts of looking through the wide-angle lens, whatever the case, I was on the cusp of decorating the side of the helicopter several times. I kept my mouth shut and just hoped I could hold out in time for lunch. Next time, I'll bring Dramamine. Here's the newest video, check it out!

Savage Race Debut

2011-09-25T21:55:00.001-04:00

Original savage, Mark Parry in Homestead, Florida became the face of Savage Race

Some of you may remember the entry a few months back about the promotional shoot I did for Savage Race and Map Cap Events. Using those photos of my friends from the mud pits of Homestead, Florida the Savage Race crew was able to promote their event in all different types of media and in less than four months attract over 2,000 people for their debut on August 27th. The day before the race I had a chance to walk the course and help put some finishing touches on the obstacles and mud pits. Sam Abbitt and Lloyd Parker (owners and managers of Savage Race) made sure the 5k was going to be brutal and live up to its slogan: "the race built to kick your ass." In fact, the property was an old sand mine and current ATV course on the outskirts of the Green Swamp, which I had just visited for Florida Forever a few months back. While setting up I saw a few cottonmouths slither across the trail and had to laugh. The 2,000 plus people carb-loading on Friday night had no idea what they had in store.

On the morning of race, it was funny to see the images of my muddy friends from Homestead plastered all over banners, t-shirts, and even water bottles. The crowds slowly trickled in as the first wave commenced at 9:00 AM. There were already 6 photographers covering the race but they focused only on images where bib numbers and participants' faces were clearly showing. My assignment was to take images for promotional materials which requires a completely different style of photography. Luckily I had a four-wheeler and driver at my disposal so I was able to stay mobile throughout the day.

The trickiest part was just making sure my lens stayed clean with all the mud that was slung around. I took nearly 1,900 photos that day but here are a few favorites..

My uncle Larry Heaton in fine form

My cousin Matt Heaton flew down from Virginia to run the race

You know that I couldn't just sit there and watch everyone else have all the fun, so I jumped in the last wave at 12:00 and put my grit to the test. I had a slight advantage knowing all the pitfalls and obstacles of the course, but even then it was a brutal 3 miles. Halfway through my wave a massive lightning and rain storm swept through central Florida and I could barely see more than three feet in front of me. I finished in 39 minutes but wasn't able to attempt the swim because of the lightning. Unfortunately the rain also forced everyone home including the band, the vendors, and all the participants waiting to celebrate their mud run. I felt bad that the Savage Race crew didn't get a chance to see their event completely unfold, but during hurricane season these things are a little hard to predict. And besides, what's more savage than a lightning obstacle?

The next race is scheduled at the same location for sometime in February 2012. Check out their website SavageRace.com and sign up. It definitely rocked me, but I'm ready for another serving. Please sir, may I have another?!

Green Swamp

2011-09-23T00:54:00.000-04:00

Five months ago I went out on assignment for the Legacy Institute of Nature and Culture (LINC) to photograph the Green Swamp in Lake County. Every year LINC puts together a conservation photography calendar to help promote lands on the waiting list to receive Florida Forever funds. I look forward to this shoot every year because it gives me an excuse to explore new areas and dedicate three days exclusively to photography. And when I'm done, maybe, just maybe, my images will play an important role in protecting that land.

Like most adventures, however, things don't always go as planned. Equipment fails, the light gets flat, the weather changes, and in a swamp, the trail gets lost. It's rare to have an assignment where the best image just falls in your lap; you usually have to pay for it. I quickly found out the going rate in the Green Swamp for a worthy calendar photo is a pint of blood.

Adam Chasey, a coworker and friend volunteered to come along and we left after work driving 300 miles into the night. We pulled into our campsite just after midnight and were immediately attacked by the most ravenous and largest mosquitoes I've ever seen. It was going to be a long, long weekend. We quickly made a fire and set up our hammocks as close as we could, hoping we could fall asleep before the bugs got bold. We didn't.

Day 1

Still rubbing the sleep out of our eyes, we rolled out of the hammocks pre-dawn and started driving to see what the Green Swamp looked like in the daylight and scout for productive scenes. The Green Swamp is a watershed basin that encompasses approximately 230,000 acres in Lake, Polk, and Sumpter Counties. Hydrologically speaking, it's an extremely critical area as it encompasses the headwaters of four major rivers: the Peace, Oklawaha, Hillsborough, and the Withlacoochee. The Green Swamp also boasts the highest groundwater elevation in the peninsula which is important for maintaining the flow of water from the Floridian Aquifer. Within the basin there is a variety of ecosystems including pine uplands, scrub, sandhills, and wetlands.

While I knew the final calendar image would eventually need to be of wetlands, I promised a variety of photos, just in case. Luckily, as we drove into the management area the sun peaked on the horizon and a light fog lingered in the pines.

Wanting to take advantage of the soft light we trudged through the palmettos and made it into a cypress dome. As you know, these habitats are my bread and butter. Having spent so much time in the domes down in the Everglades, I was a little thrown off when I didn't see orchids and epiphytes clinging to everything. Instead, chain fern filled all the empty spaces and suddenly, there was order. Compositionally and spacially, it proved much cleaner than a tropical swamp. Still, the image I had in mind required something a little more dramatic; an icon of some sorts.

Adam and I started to make our way back to the campsite when my truck got stuck in the road. We were in the middle of nowhere, so after sinking the wheels even further in the dirt, I started digging them out with my dinner spoon. A feeble attempt, but I didn't see any other option. After 30 minutes of this, we saw a massive mud-covered truck bouncing down the road. We flagged down the driver and after rigging up his tow rope, out we popped in a matter of minutes. He laughed at the spoon and my five-finger shoes, then rode on to hunt turkeys. With my truck unreliable and my pride too damaged to continue driving on those backroads, we decided it time to set out on foot.

Figuring that more water flow typically brings bigger trees and abundant wildlife, the Withlacoochee River headwaters seemed like our best bet. I don't know how setting out two hours before sundown in a braided swamp without bringing a flashlight, phone, or GPS ever broke through our paper-thin caution, but we came extremely close to bedding down and spending the night lost in the middle of a swamp. The swarms of prehistoric-sized mosquitoes would have loved munching on us all night. Probably one of the most uncomfortable experiences of my outdoor life was that night, wading up to my chin in blackwater with my camera bag over my head hoping alligators wouldn't be attracted to the splashing. At least for the calendar's sake we found the icon we were looking for and we would return the next day to find its light.

Too dark to photograph, I thought this old growth cypress would be the perfect subject to represent Green Swamp

Day 2

In the morning we revisited the pine uplands but didn't spend long knowing our target photo was back in the swamp. The light was great for moody silhouettes which are always good to have in a portfolio, but at this point I had my sights set on wetlands.

Instead of putting up the camera and waiting for the afternoon light, Adam and I started exploring the domes with different eyes, using macro lenses on the ferns and varying shutter speeds to create abstracts with the cypress trees. Sometimes it's just fun to get in tight and work a scene. I must have spent an hour photographing this one budding cypress limb. Had I been focused only on calendar images, I never would have shot a vertical. Now it's one of my new portfolio favorites.

By late afternoon we were back in the swamp, this time equipped with headlamps, phones, and my truck's keyless clicker to remotely honk the horn if we were in a jam. I was surprised how easy it felt navigating the channels and sloughs in the daylight after our debacle the night before. This time we committed our route to memory and avoided veering off the main flow.

Fishing spiders and tree frogs made for decent subjects along the way and I felt compelled to photograph them just in case we couldn't find that one old growth tree. Eventually, just as the setting sun dappled through the trees we spotted its massive trunk and started setting up our tripods. For a property that holds such ecological importance for the wetlands and rivers downstream, I needed a scene that invited people to fall in love with the swamp. While spiders, alligators, and snakes are all part of this region, I wanted a landscape that called to the essence of old Florida.

For this shot, I used a polarizer to cut down on the glare from the leaves and the water. I left my shutter open for 30 seconds to allow for the water to become smooth like glass. As a final touch to keep your attention at the cypress tree I asked Adam to climb inside the base, which could easily fit 4 people, and illuminate the sides with a flashlight. Knowing we found the shot on the last night was a huge relief and we slept well, ready for one last morning of images before driving back to the Keys.

Day 3

On the last day, the sun didn't leave the cover of clouds until 9 AM. Frustrated, we went searching for wildlife and happened upon a few snakes. They were a little too small to put in any context but on the side of the road as we were leaving we spotted a large yellow rat snake in a stand of long leaf pines. These are fairly common snakes, but they're remarkable in how their bodies are designed climb tall trees grasping the grooves in the bark in search of bird eggs or rodents. With the blue sky locking in the background and a bit of fill light from a reflector, we photographed the snake for fifteen minutes as he made his way down the pine and into the brush.

I was grateful to end the trip on that note. When I got home and sent in my submissions the final two images that the editors picked were the yellow rat snake and the old growth cypress. Eventually we chose the landscape, and I can't wait to share the calendar with all of you when it comes out early this October.

Venture Out! Gator Nest Survey

2011-09-15T00:02:00.001-04:00

Erin Woods with National Audubon and Mark Parry from Everglades National Park

slog through sawgrass checking American alligator nests

Restoring the Everglades takes collaborative work from a slew of organizations and agencies. Each research program provides valuable data which helps to form the overall restoration narrative. I love being involved in this circle of biologists and researchers who have some of the coolest jobs in south Florida.

Wildlife biologist with Everglades National Park, Mark Parry, suits up for gator nest monitoring

Mark Parry, a wildlife biologist for Everglades National Park works with american alligators in the summers studying the relationship between nesting success and water management practices. By the end of July american alligators have built their nests and laid eggs in remote areas of the park. Mark has the task of locating these nests via helicopter, counting the eggs, and monitoring their success rates. Occasionally a protective mother will stand her ground and Mark takes the opportunity to measure, weigh, and tag her too. When he asked my coworkers and me to accompany him on a flight, it was a no-brainer. Jumping out of helicopters, slogging through marsh, and wrestling gators? Yes please. Plus, it'd give me a reason to wear my Top Gun-style aviators.

Check out the next Venture Out! video from our day in the field with Mark.

Thank you Gore-Tex!

2011-09-14T23:44:00.000-04:00

At the Tavernier Science Center we use drop nets to sample fish in Florida Bay and southern Everglades. Transporting the nets in boats, trucks, and helicopters to bring them to mangrove swamps where they sit under harsh sun and drag against barnacles and rebar, it's no wonder we're constantly having to repair them. At this point, it seems that several of our nets are made up entirely of duct tape. This makes the sampling extremely delicate and only complicates our schedules when we have to spend a day away from our work to fix the rips.

With a generous donation from GORE-TEX, our net mending days might be over. The company was kind enough to send an entire roll of their rip-stop and waterproof material, asking only that we use it in the field and tell them how it works.

Once the material arrived, we took it to a local seamstress at Ship Shape and had it sewn into the new generation of drop nets. The difference in material was remarkable and felt like trading in our Gremlin for a Corvette.

The very next day we took it out on the Bay and it worked perfectly. I know it's a nerdy thing to get excited about, but knowing that I won't be fiddling with duct tape after hours is pretty comforting. Moreover, I love it when big companies like GORE-TEX take the time to support the little guys. Thank you so much!

Venture Out! American Crocodile

2011-08-31T16:54:00.001-04:00

One-day-old American crocodile (Crocodylus acutus) photographed

in a custom field studio

Why do I love Florida summers? Well, besides the rolling thunderstorms, violent swarms of mosquitoes, and suffocating humidity, it's also crocodile nesting season! Federally listed as an endangered species, their numbers are believed to be between 2,000 and 3,000 individuals. Their range encompasses the southern tip of Florida, primarily within the southern Everglades. In fact, the Everglades is the only place in the world where crocodiles and alligators co-habitate. To get the rare chance to handle and interact with these reptiles isn't something I would pass up.

Wildlife biologist Mario Aldecoa with a baby crocodile at Turkey Point

When hatchlings are out of the nest, it means mama crocs are on high alert and the normally casual swamp stomp can get a little hairy. Ever since I came down to the Keys, I've been salivating to accompany the crocodile research team at Turkey Point on one of their night missions to catch baby crocodiles. Finally late this July I got the much anticipated call from wildlife biologist Mario Aldecoa that a nest had hatched and the hunt was on.

Baby crocodiles have to learn to fend for themselves as soon as they hatch from the egg.

On closer inspection you can see all the small bumps surrounding the crocodile's

mouth which act as active sensors to aid in feeling for passing fish.

Normally, biologists go at night to catch the crocodiles because they're easier to see when using headlamps or spotlights. During the day their gray bodies and cryptic coloration help them blend into the surrounding vegetation making capture extremely difficult and time consuming. Once the crocodiles have been caught Mario brings them back to the lab to measure, weigh, identify, and mark each individual before releasing them back at the nest. Recapture will allow researchers to gain a better understanding of how these armored dragons survive in Florida's southernmost wilderness. Here's a short video of our airboat adventure late one night at the Turkey Point nuclear power plant.

Venture Out! Crocodile Hunt from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

Keeping Good Company

2011-08-29T22:53:00.001-04:00

I've been raised by many different people. Certainly not for any short-comings from my parents, but because as I grew upward and outward I needed foundational support in all directions. When I started branching out in the photographic community there was one person in particular that reached out to me as a mentor, spiritual advisor, and surrogate mother. As privileged as I felt, she spared no one the same courtesy. Even my Honduran student who spoke no English had the chance to meet her and still speaks of her radiance today. When I give workshops, or simply talk about photography, it is my goal to translate even a smidgen of the substance that she so generously gave her students. Nancy Rotenberg, a photographer, poet, writer, speaker, wife, friend, and teacher passed away Friday night and I can't find the words to explain how sad I am for everyone who didn't get to meet her. She was a selfless life-lover and lived deliberately. I always found it funny that Nancy spoke about the roots of inspiration by "keeping good company" with other artists, musicians, cooks, dancers, and even athletes when I knew that everyone listening thought that she was the best company you could ever keep.

We will miss you, Nancy.

The Magic Hour

2011-08-25T04:00:00.002-04:00

A red mangrove 10 minutes before sunset

So if dawn is the blue hour, then the moments before and after dusk are what photographers call the magic hour. Within the last minutes before and after the sun drops below the horizon, the color palette shifts creating dramatic differences in tones and hues, completely altering the mood of the landscape. While out paddling with a good friend and photographer Paul Marcellini, I got a first hand look at how Florida Bay changes in a matter of minutes. Now the hard part is just figuring out which one I like more.

The same red mangrove 10 minutes after sunset

Power Struggle

2011-08-21T23:28:00.001-04:00

"Power Struggle" - South Park Key in Florida Bay

In the still of a mauve morning, the full moon sets over the Bob Keys and a storm lingers in the west. During the blue hour of twilight, a dramatic tension fills the air as night reluctantly succumbs to the day. "Power Struggle," is the newest image to go into my Florida Bay portfolio and I can't wait to see it in a bigger format!

Frazier Springfield works a mangrove cluster at South Park

I made this image while a couple photographer friends were visiting for the weekend. Wanting a chance to shoot early morning light with mangroves and a setting full moon we boated out at 5:00 AM from Islamorada to get to our location. Since it was pitch black, finding the banks and cuts was a little difficult but we managed to make it to South Park Key at just the right time. I felt so lucky to have a full moon, lightning, morning light, and mangroves in the same image.

The predawn ambiance was spectacular and we treaded lightly through the flats spooking lemon sharks that trolled the shallow water. It was an easy place to feel overwhelmed since there are simply thousands of potential images but recently I've been trying to lock in on my spot and work it until it sings. It certainly paid off this time.

Moonbow

2011-08-14T13:04:00.001-04:00

Paddlers leaving Green Turtle Hammock and into the storm

I've been outside a good bit and I've been fortunate enough to see some pretty spectacular displays from mother nature. Last night, however was the first time I've ever seen a moonbow without a waterfall. A few friends of mine and I went out paddling to watch the full moon rise over Islamorada but were promptly dumped on by a massive thunderstorm moving South through Florida Bay. Once the rain subsided it was well after the moon had risen and we docked the kayaks. Looking up at the storm in the distance my friend Leslie spotted a strange and faint arc in the sky. I quickly realized the moon was creating a rainbow and ran to get my camera. Apparently for this phenomenon to happen without a waterfall or spray of some kind, the moon must be low in the night sky (about 42 degrees or less) with rain falling on the opposite side of the horizon. This is extremely rare and I was so excited to see it with a group of friends to confirm that I wasn't crazy. It may not be a "keeper" photo, but if nothing else, it's just another reason why Florida Bay is so special.

A rare moonbow and lightning over Green Turtle Hammock on Florida Bay

Trolllin' and Pollin' Everglades Style

2011-08-09T01:43:00.001-04:00

The same places I've been visiting since I arrived here are still continuing to surprise me. There's no shortage of adventure and discovery in Everglades National Park, that's for sure. With my friend, coworker, and backcountry fishing guide Pete Frezza, we headed out before dawn to meet the sun as it rose over the Everglades. Launching his boat we battled swarms of mosquitoes fully understanding our blood was a necessary sacrifice for our plans that day.

Right off the bat, the calm water began rippling out from the banks as juvenile tarpon rolled violently on unsuspecting minnows. I had never seen anything like that in South Florida. The only time I watched fish rise this frequently was on the North Platte River in Wyoming, and those were 15'' trout. These were 30'' tarpon. By my third cast I had one on the fly and it sent itself rocketing into the blue morning sky. What a way to start the day!

Pete was nice enough to let me have the first casts, but promptly after I wanted to see how it was done by a pro. Watching a seasoned fisherman cast into the tight spots around mangroves is like watching an artist at work. His fly danced and line undulated in beautiful loops and fell silently on the water, presenting an unresistable morsel to the fish below.

And just when we thought it couldn't get any better than fishing on a Monday, a double rainbow appeared over the water. We stayed in this spot for the next two hours and found a few young snook which was encouraging to see since their numbers declined so abruptly after the 2010 freeze.

Despite the adrenaline-filled morning and intense satisfaction I felt, our day was far from over. A few days earlier we received word from Garl's Coastal Kayaking that they spotted a flamingo around one of the flats on Florida Bay. Historically, this wasn't an uncommon sight, as the main marina is called Flamingo from the vast numbers of pink birds that spent their summers here. Unfortunately, as a result of the plume trade, hurricanes, and continued hunting in Cuba, it's extremely rare to see these iconic birds in South Florida. While our expectations were low, our hopes soared, carrying us on a 10 mile boat ride without the use of a motor through pole and troll-only zones.

The bay was like glass and we could see redfish tailing in the flats as the tide drew out. Along the banks, dense mats of turtle grass floated on the surface, uprooted by storm surges and water currents, then elegantly arranged in lava-like tendrils of varying colors. Great white herons dotted the horizon waiting for unsuspecting toadfish and crabs to swim by. Just when it couldn't get any better, all of a sudden by the shoreline we spotted it; my very first wild flamingo.

I've seen plenty of flamingos in zoos and postcards in all the stores down here, I've even drunk out of a plastic one, but never fully appreciated these birds until this moment. I couldn't believe how they dwarfed all the shorebirds and wading birds along the coast. Maybe because they're rare, maybe because we pulled 5 miles to get there, whatever the case I was overcome with this entitled feeling that I had been let into some special club. My camera was working, batteries at full charge, and an empty memory card, things were looking good. We approached slowly, but we couldn't quite get close enough for a candid image. Wary of people, the flamingo would promptly take off as soon as we got within 50 feet, extending its long awkward neck and using the flats as its runway. It seemed to take forever for the bird to get into the air.

After another hour, we saw the flamingo land near some other wading birds. Hoping that power in numbers would make this bird feel safer we headed towards them and were able to get a little closer. Just then, my polarizer fell off my lens and scared the bird away. I managed to get some frames off just before, but still, with such a rare sighting, the images I was making didn't match what I was feeling. Fortunately, the flamingo landed with a group of white herons. Seeing the image line up, Pete helped paddle us into a position to juxtapose the mangrove islands of Florida bay and this odd family of birds against the afternoon horizon.

Given the light and the physical circumstances, I couldn't have been happier. And just in time too, because looking behind us, a storm was brewing, forcing us off the flats to bring our 15 mile pole and paddle to an end. I'm still buzzing from the energy.

Vote for the Cover!

2011-07-26T17:46:00.000-04:00

The 2011 Florida Forever Calendar with cover image by David Moynahan

The Legacy Institute of Nature and Culture (LINC) in coordination with Florida Forever is closing in on finalizing the design of next year's calendar. If you don't remember, the Florida Forever Conservation Photography Calendar is an annual project that involves 12 of the state's top nature photographers that use their images to promote conservation. We are trying to decide on the cover image for next year's calendar and we could use your help. Your vote counts, so please help us and let us know which one you would like to see on the cover of the 2012 calendar. Thanks!

Click here to vote!

Restore Florida Bay

2011-07-18T03:24:00.007-04:00

It's finally here. The website RestoreFloridaBay.com is live!

Since October of last year I have been working on compiling photography and videos to help promote Everglades restoration efforts and raise awareness about our fragile gem, Florida Bay. The entire crew at Tavernier Science Center put in their efforts as well with providing informative text, posing for photos, and of course the wonderful narration you hear on all of the EcoLab videos.

The Disney Worldwide Conservation Fund provided the grant money to make this website possible and we are eternally grateful for their support. As scientists, our office constantly struggles to come up with new and creative ways to get our message out to the public without all the dry graphs and charts that our data compiles. Instead, we wanted to show you the basis of our research and the importance of Florida Bay and the southern Everglades through a mix of photography and video on an engaging website. While doing so, I learned some interesting things about conservation, Florida Bay, and myself.

For example: I make to-do lists. I guess I'm a list-maker. And I realized that it's all a ridiculous dance solely for the satisfaction of crossing completed tasks and projects off that list. I noticed sometimes I will even add benign activities that I already fulfilled earlier that day, just to watch as my pseudo-productivity meter grows. "Pick up clothes and books off the floor." Check.

But I have two lists. One for the every day grind and another dedicated to more long-term project. For the last 9 months sitting at the top of my whiteboard in bold black letters read "Restore Florida Bay." Late last month I was finally able to strike through those menacing words and appease my inner demons of productivity.

There was a point in the process, however, where I couldn't see it ending. I ran into so many bumps along the way from poor weather, to drowned cameras, to computer crashes, to copyrighted music, which proved to be the biggest headache of all. Giving up on calling music labels I eventually found myself scouring the internet for days on end to find the right royalty-free tunes to align with our tempo and mood. It's unbelievable what some people name their songs: "Sick to the Back Teeth," "Plastic Energy Man," "Countenance of Limitless Light," and my favorite (but didn't make the cut) "No Pants Friday." Not to mention every time I thought I was finished with a video I would see something new in the Everglades and come back to my studio to replace old footage. That's the beauty of this place though; it's ever-changing and always inspiring.

I would like to thank everyone at the Tavernier Science Center for their constant support. Megan Tinsley was the brains behind the website and provided all of the text you read in the links. Michelle Robinson, Adam Chasey, Erin Woods, Heather Schorge, and April Geisler make up the field biologist fish crew and put up with my camera constantly in their faces as they tried to work in the Florida heat. To Terry Jones, our trusty helicopter pilot who never seemed to mind me darting back and forth in the cockpit to capture the aerials you see in the EcoLabs. An additional thank you to Heather Schorge for her amazing narrative voice and to Karen Dyer, former head of spoonbill research who patiently endured mosquitoes and mud while I photographed her with the hatchlings. Of course Jerry Lorrenz, the state director of research, for continuing to run this important study and trusting us with such a big undertaking. And to you, for helping spread the word, and for caring.

I hope these videos will grow legs and make their way around the south Florida community, especially the policy makers who help determine the fate of our natural places. Here are quick links to the videos but please do take the time to browse the site if you find time. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Florida Bay

Submerged Aquatic Vegetation

Fish Sampling in Everglades National Park

An Indicator for the Everglades: The Roseate Spoonbill

Moonlit Stage

2011-07-17T23:28:00.001-04:00

Drum circle at Coconut Cove on the full moon

One of the best shows to see down here in the Keys is the full moon rising over the ocean. Yesterday, however, was the first time I saw it accompanied by a soundtrack. Rob Clift from EcoMariner, in coordination with KeystoPeace, hosted a drum circle of talented percussionists and musicians at Coconut Cove. If you've seen Swamp Stomp, then you know how much I love to make music outside. We all brought our favorite instruments and played for two hours on the best stage in the Keys. I can't wait for next month!

Returning the Favor

2011-07-15T00:27:00.000-04:00

The pile of derelict crabs traps at Card Sound piled high by the end of the day

It's easy to enjoy Florida Bay and Everglades. The large expanses of shallow water and open space make this area critical for fisheries and the livelihoods of countless people. There's always a challenge, however, with managing such vast landscapes and protecting them from misuse. The Fish and Wildlife Commission as well as park officials, do a great job enforcing laws and holding citizens accountable for their actions. However, there are far too many boat ramps and backcountry hideouts to stay vigilant all the time. Often times, the burden falls upon the shoulders of individuals to step up and do their part in protecting what they have come to love. When people pool their efforts together, there's so much you can accomplish.

Last Sunday 35 people from the Keys to Homestead met at the Card Sound boat ramp to clean up the basin. This area is particularly abundant with stone crabs, blue crabs, and lobsters which attract trappers in the open season. When the season closes, however, the unmarked crab traps are often forgotten about or left to harvest illegally throughout the year. Derelict crab traps are a huge problem in the area as they pose major threats to terrapin, fish, and crabs that continue to enter the traps. After four hours, with the help of the airboat community, concerned boaters, and volunteers from Audubon we managed to pull out 230 traps. Not to mention various articles of trash including 8 tires, a TV, buckets, PVC pipes, a machete, and other items. It was a good day for the Everglades and a proud day for everyone that got to pitch in and protect something they love.

A stone crab in Florida Bay

Mangroves

2011-07-11T08:20:00.000-04:00

I've been obsessing over mangroves lately. They are the unyielding force of the Everglades. Each of them with a unique footprint and a character all their own. Constantly bending and stretching to reach fertile ground, they posses a certain ingenuity, an intelligence, even.

Mangroves are tricky subjects to photograph, though. Their waxy leaves reflect harsh light in the afternoons and around sunset, even the slightest wind will move their outstretched branches during long exposures.

I've found that the best time to see them is in the mornings because the wind is much calmer. For the most distinct subjects, however, I have to boat out into Florida Bay an hour before sunrise to catch the first light. Luckily, they're right on my way to work.

One of the more bizarre landscapes I've seen was right at the end of the dry season at the top of Florida Bay. For a week, North winds pushed water into the mangrove swamps along Taylor River. The ground, still parched from the months without water, stayed defiantly cracked and broken regardless of the water that now filled the area. I'd been to this place dozens of times and never seen it this way.

My next goal is to get underwater and see what they look like from below. Stay tuned...

"Swept Away"

2011-06-29T18:59:00.000-04:00

Swept Away - Florida Bay

Two weeks ago I made a new image in Florida Bay that will become part of my print portfolio. I was having trouble coming up with a title that resonated with me personally and spoke to the transient nature of this wonderful place so I called on some help. After posting the image to Facebook, I asked all my friends for their ideas to give this photo the last creative "umph" that it needed. In exchange for their brilliant nuggets, I offered an 8 x 12 matted and signed print to the winner. I didn't expect too many people to respond, but after three days, there were 100 comments with all kinds of inspiring input. I was so overwhelmed by everyone's enthusiasm. I had a tough time deciding which one would define this new image, but I kept coming back to one in particular. Caitlin Sandersen Friedman, and old friend from high school came up with the winning title "Swept Away." I love it when art becomes collaborative!

The new print will now be available at my running gallery in The Great Frame Up in Gainesville, Florida or online through my website MacStonePhoto.com. If you'd like to get in on the next title contest, find me on Facebook!

Honduras

2011-06-23T00:57:00.002-04:00

Me and Simon Olaleye with Jader and Zahid in Las Mangas, Honduras
photo by Mari Whilkolm 2008

I left Honduras three years ago and it broke my heart. The kids I taught were so far along in their learning and were just coming of age. I had never learned community in the way they showed me community and leaving my small river village of Las Mangas after two years was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

Over the years I've kept Las Mangas and the kids close but only so far as phone calls, facebook, and skype allowed. From their first encounters with a mouse and keyboard, they've come a long way. Now, I get monthly updates from my top photographers who send me Photoshopped images over email. I'm so proud and impressed with the way they continue to grow and yet saddened I can't be there to see it. Last month my schedule cleared up enough to spend a week in Honduras with my old students and help Guaruma (the non-profit that employed me) with its mission. Mostly, however, I went to reaffirm my roots.

Camilo Lopez enjoying one of the many water holes of his community

I had seven days without a schedule in a tropical forest ecosystem. Having already spent two years photographing and living in Las Mangas, I needed new subjects, so I turned to the kids. Finding adventurous spirits was not a problem, neither was finding a setting to put them in.

School children walk by a stand of palms in Las Mangas, Honduras

Las Mangas is my Macondo. Instead of the Buendia family, the Lobos are the central social and genetic pillar of the village as everyone seems to have an uncle, cousin, or brother within the family. The dirt road winding up the Cangrejal River valley cuts through several villages just like this one, but Las Mangas is unique. The streets are clean, the houses are beautifully adorned with wildflowers, and primary tropical forest still remains on both sides of the class five river. While the people struggle just to put rice and beans on their plates you would have to pry the indomitable smiles off their faces to find any bit of shame or remorse underneath. If Las Mangas breeds anything as successfully as more Lobos, it's pride.

This photo would be impossible in the wet season when the Cangrejal River
climbs its banks as surges towards the Caribbean

Nestled between two national parks, the village is an ecological hotspot for insects, venomous reptiles, birds, amphibians, and several rare or endangered mammals. Precious hardwoods make up the canopy and provide ample habitat for diverse wildlife. Potable water rushes down the mountains through granite-laden creeks giving way to lush tropical life in every direction. But Las Mangas as well as the other communities along the watershed are not safe from the ever-growing needs of the population.

Camilo Lopez climbs the vines next to a large hardwood in the protected area of the forest

As you might infer, there is quite a bit of exploitation that goes on along the Cangrejal River. Large tracts of dense forests are slashed and burned to make room for black beans and other crops. Jaguars have been nearly extirpated from the region as well as iguanas, monkeys, deer, and tapir. The dollar speaks, as they say, and in a bad economy there is no taboo when it comes to putting food on the table.

Growing up Mangas means a barefoot youth spent boulder hopping, waterfall climbing, and the reassuring ever-flowing sound of water. It's the same freshwater that balances the estuaries along the coast, attracting tourists from all over the world. The same freshwater that keeps tidal ocean flows from rushing into the aquifers and contaminating the water supply. It's the same freshwater that gives life to endemic fish and makes the Cangrejal River so unique. But there's another plan for this water.

The Cangrejal River overlooked by Pico Bonito National Park

Energy companies backed by contractors, government officials, and teams of engineers have determined the mighty torrent of the Cangrejal is the perfect place for a hydroelectric dam. The communities are confused because while promised employment, they would be placing the fate of their natural heritage in an on/off valve.

This water line is what attracts energy companies to the region. The promise of a
raging river in the wet season may provide enough energy to power the city of La Ceiba

It seems no matter where I go, water management is a prevailing force. In the Everglades, we're shamefully backpedaling because a lot of money was to be made by controlling water. I would hate for the same regret to fall upon Las Mangas and the families of the Cangrejal River.

Orlin Murillo, past winner of the NANPA high school photography scholarship
frequents the river in hopes of communicating the beauty of the watershed

Despite the difficult decisions and hardships on the horizon for the watershed communities, they remain optimistic. While I was visiting, the heads of each village met at Guaruma to draft a petition in unified opposition to the hydroelectric dam. A few of my old students even promised to fight for their water, using imagery to remind others of what is at stake.

Over the seven days I spent in Las Mangas I thought about water constantly. I thought about how it sculpts our landscapes as it does our cultures. I thought about the millions of artists and poets who spent lifetimes trying to give it a voice. And regretfully I thought about our slow disconnect from it, much as we have disconnected from what we eat. I don't claim to know all the benefits or risks of building a hydroelectric dam. Maybe in the long run more jobs for the citizens of the river and "cleaner" energy for the people of La Ceiba will be worth the trouble. What I do know, however, is that the Cangrejal is beautiful as it is and doesn't need our improvements.

Savage Race Promo Shoot

2011-06-11T23:20:00.000-04:00

Savage Race Promo Shoot from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

I'm always so inspired by people who have stability in their lives, walking a paved path, and instead of closing their eyes letting the road unfurl beneath their feet, they opt to get off trail and go bushwhacking. My cousin, Sam Abbitt, woke up this year and decided his dream was not the one he was living.

Determined to create something new, he started a business plan for what would become Savage Race. It would be an endurance race designed to test even the toughest competitors all in the name of crossing the finish line to feel alive, complete, muddy, and hungry for more. He did this while his brother Hank was training in the most hardcore regimen this country has to offer: Navy SEALS.

I wrote Sam to congratulate him on his divorce from the everyday and offered to help in any way that I could with his new career. A day later we decided he would come down to South Florida to do a promotional photo shoot for the race. He needed photos of people running, jumping, and crawling through mud to supply his website, but he was unsure that my friends would be willing to put themselves through the ringer pro-bono. Obviously he doesn't know my friends.

Complete with lingerie nightgowns, pink moo-moos, devilish masks, fairy wings, indian headdresses, ripped shirts, Hawaiian leis, and trojan battle garb, my friends brought the heat. As the main event would eventually sponsor a band and various beer tents, we were sure to bring a few beverages if not to incentivize, but to lubricate their desire to crawl in the thick and rocky mire while wearing women's clothes in rural South Florida.

It was certainly a day to remember and I'm so fortunate to have such a dedicated cousin and even more so, friends who would spend their weekend crawling through the mud under barbed wire just for a few photos.

Of course, I wasn't allowed to just shoot photos, my friends simply wouldn't stand for it.

So if you're into pushing yourself, eating BBQ, listening to music, and getting dirty then Savage Race is something you will not want to miss. Check out the official website to learn more about the gnarly event Sam is putting together this August. Sign up! I'll be there!

Backyard Visitors

2011-06-06T22:13:00.000-04:00

Don't you love it when wildlife just comes to you?

These little guys have probably been living off our fish scraps the last few weeks. While cooking, my roommate heard a scratching in the leaf litter. Looking down, he saw various paws trying to reach under the fence to break through to the other side. Knowing that our neighbors have several dogs, we ran downstairs and corralled the baby raccoons to let them back out into the mangroves.

It's easy to hold a grudge against the larger raccoons that seem to employ SWAT-like tactics to get into garbage cans and recycle bins, but how could you ever hold malice against a face like this?

Venture Out! Megalops atlanticus

2011-05-30T23:19:00.001-04:00

Me with my first "small" tarpon in Florida Bay, caught on the fly

I live in the sportfishing capital of the world. Millions of people fly halfway around the globe each year just to get out on the emerald waters of Florida Bay and try their luck with a rod and reel. Deeper water charters run trips for sailfish, kings, grouper, mahi, and tuna, but in my opinion the best bang for your buck is running off Islamorada and into the bay for the Altantic tarpon (Megalops atlanticus). These "silver kings" as they're called, can reach lengths up to 8 feet and weigh up to 350 lbs. Dive bars and fishing outposts line their walls with vintage photographs of the historic fights that famous anglers, actors, sports heroes, and past presidents have had while fishing for these coastal monsters.

Once on the line, a tarpon is known to explode out of the water in attempts to break the line or shake the hook. This the angler's most tense moment and as well, the reason they came to the Keys.

A few weeks ago, coworker Adam Chasey and I set out to film and photograph tarpon for a short documentary series we're working on with National Audubon and Disney. Knowing that we didn't have the time or money to invest in a month-long trial and error process of hiring fishing guides, we went to the one place we knew we could find the megalops.

For years, Robbie's Marina has been known as the tarpon hotspot. With access to both Florida Bay and the Atlantic ocean coupled with a constant stream of fishing charters disposing of their leftovers, tarpon arrive in droves along with jacks, snapper, and of course, brown pelicans.

The image I envisioned was a tarpon lunging out of the blue water with jaws open straight towards the camera. I didn't know how I would accomplish this considering the logistics of enticing a wild tarpon to jump, or the risk of losing another camera, or even just battling the hot Florida sun for hours on end, but I welcomed the challenge. Check out the next Venture Out! video to see how we did it.

Venture Out! Megalops atlanticus from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

Rain?

2011-05-25T21:47:00.001-04:00

The parched mangrove flats region of Taylor River in Everglades National Park

While South Florida waits for the summer rains, I've been enjoying heading out to my favorite backcountry locations to see how the prolonged dry season continues to reshape the landscape. Places that I could normally access by motorboat have now limited me to using a push pole or kayak.

Shallow sediment flats of Florida Bay along the Bob Keys

On Florida Bay, even the tides seem to become a little more drastic as the river of grass has turned into a mere trickle, limiting the supply of freshwater expelled into the bay.

Rolling rain clouds over Florida Bay off Flamingo point in Everglades National Park

Still, big thunderheads and towering cumulous clouds develop in the early mornings and late afternoons. And just when we think we're getting the first big rains, after only a few hours the storm passes and we're left with just the afterthought of a summer that never seems to come.

Venture Out! Beta Project

2011-05-19T06:32:00.000-04:00

I always flipped through REI or Patagonia magazines thinking, "man, how do these people get to do this stuff?" I mean, here I was hiking in the woods, swimming in the springs, rappelling down cliffs too, why didn't I ever get a call to test out their gear? Well, someone must have heard my silent gripes, because last month I was given the opportunity to be an official tester for Columbia Sportswear along with Adam Chasey and Garl Harrold of Garl's Coastal Kayaking.

Their new product, Insect Blocker is a type of cloth that is designed to keep biting insects from biting through your shirt or pants while in wetland areas. Columbia figured that since we spent the majority of our time in the Everglades and swamps of Florida that we would be perfect candidates.

From what I've found, keeping insects at bay is one of the toughest tasks in the Everglades, especially in the summer. Bug suits are stuffy and may as well be portable saunas as they're terrible for keeping you cool. Lightweight shirts are often too lightweight and the bigger deer flies and mosquitoes can bite right through the gaps. So, Columbia designed a shirt that would breathe while offering protection through some brilliant way of infusing permethryn with the fabric.

The research and development center at Columbia gave us one month to test out the shirt and pants, asking our opinions along the way. After a month, Kristen Strott, head of R&D at Columbia and Mark Going, photographer for the company, booked a flight from their office in Oregon to come and see for themselves how the gear fared in the Everglades.

They specifically asked us to take them camping in the most brutal and blood-draining hostile place we could think of, so we picked Alligator Creek in the salt marsh of Everglades National Park. We planned to paddle the 7 miles to the campsite and stay one night amidst the noseeums, deer flies, and mosquitoes to put the gear and ourselves through the ringer. While I was a little uneasy about this type of masochism I was incredibly stoked that a clothing company would invest this much time and effort into making sure their product worked before putting it on the shelves.

Now, I'm not allowed to reveal too much about Insect Blocker, but what I will say is that it's not a magical forcefield. It works where the clothes are touching and I never once felt overheated. Yes, good old fashion bug repellant works too - but honestly, our skin is a porous living thing, and I avoid putting that stuff on at all costs. I mean seriously, it melts plastic.

While it was fun romping around for Columbia, it was even more rewarding to show a couple Oregonians a few of the reasons why we live, love, and breathe the Everglades. Here's video I put together of our trip. I hope you enjoy it!

Venture Out! Beta Project from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

Quick Trip

2011-05-19T00:10:00.000-04:00

Camilo Lopez braves one of the waterfalls on the outskirts of Pico Bonito National Park

What a whirlwind. I feel like I was just packing to go to Honduras and after a full week of exploring, waterfall climbing, camping, soccer, swimming, and hanging out with my old students along the Cangrejal River my head is still spinning trying to process everything that happened. As soon as I can get some time to breathe, I will process the images and put together some videos and slideshows to share with you. Until then, you'll just have to wait!

La Cuenca

2011-05-09T00:43:00.002-04:00

Cangrejal River in Las Mangas, Honduras

I'm so excited to be back in Honduras and staying in my old village Las Mangas along the Cangrejal River. I have about a week to be here and there's so much I have to catch up on after having left three years ago. While it's hard to be certain of anything in the Cangrejal watershed, there are a few things I think I can count on. I know I'm going to eat a bunch of beans and tortillas, I know I'm going to swim in the river, I know I'm going to go camping, and I know I'm going to hurt myself in some way. I can only hope that the weather the stays clear, that I don't really hurt myself, and that I finally get that bot fly I always wanted, felt I deserved, and never got. Either way, I'm sure it's going to be a great adventure.

Happy Mother's Day!

2011-05-08T15:41:00.000-04:00

A mother alligator defends her young in Everglades National Park

While filming the next Venture Out! episode with the Columbia Sportswear team in the Everglades, we came across this American alligator. She was vocally aggressive and we soon noticed that she had 4 hatchlings staying cool under the cut bank, wallowing in the only muddy water left in the cypress dome. Keeping guard on the fringe, hissing with jaws agape and hind legs poised to pounce, she let us know we weren't welcome. You have to respect her courage, putting her babies first, even when raising them in the toughest of conditions. So this photo goes out to all the mamas out there, in rain or drought, doing their best to make sure their babies grow up. Happy Mother's Day!

Venture Out! Everglades Invader

2011-05-01T20:34:00.001-04:00

A nine-foot Burmese python hides amongst the leaves in an upland hammock

Many of you have heard the stories about pythons taking over the Everglades. While I wish this were another Skunk Ape story hyperbolized by one sighting, for those of us who live and work in the park this is a very real and scary problem. Burmese pythons (Python molurus bivittatus) are one of the world's largest snakes and unfortunately have been released into the park. Due to their incredibly high survival rates and south Florida's favorable climate, their populations have exploded over the last few years. It is estimated that anywhere from 5,000 to 200,000 pythons are currently residing in the Everglades. Research biologists in the park are working hard to find new ways of controlling their numbers.

Trey Kieckhefer, wildlife biologist with the University of Florida

Last week I had the chance to accompany wildlife biologist Trey Kieckhefer to get a better understanding of the problem we're facing in the Everglades. One of his studies involves implanting a tracking device under the skin of nine pythons and rereleasing them into the park. While this many seem counterproductive to limiting the number of these invasive reptiles, the "Judas Snakes" as they're called, help lead biologists to other pythons during the breeding season and offer clues as to their behavior in south Florida. Normally when biologists encounter pythons in the field, they take them back to the lab for further research or euthanasia.

Biologists use radio telemetry to track the movements and habits of select pythons

Trey currently holds the record for finding the largest python in the park, at a staggering 16.9 feet. You would think a snake this big would easily be detected by the millions of tourists and workers that pour through the park entrance each year. However, as you will find in my next episode of Venture Out!, regardless of size, the Burmese python is difficult to locate even with radio telemetry and GPS tracking.

Enjoy the video and pray for our Everglades!

Venture Out! Burmese Pythons from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

NPR Interview

2011-04-22T00:02:00.006-04:00

Me with Amy Tardif in NPR's WGCU studio in Ft Myers, FL

This afternoon I drove out to Ft Myers for an interview with National Public Radio's WGCU member station hosted by Amy Tardif. The topic was Florida's water and the various uses of multimedia to communicate the importance of maintaining and restoring our state's compromised hydrology. I spoke for the second half of the program after Clyde Butcher and Elam Stoltzfus. Although it was a long drive to get there, I had a great time talking about the new projects I'm working on for National Audubon and also my ongoing photography portfolio on swamps of the east coast. I'm just happy I didn't stumble too badly over my words! If you missed the live stream that I linked to on facebook and twitter, you can listen to the audio track here or on my website.

For more information on NPR's WGCU or to hear the full interview check out their website

Venture Out

2011-04-19T22:16:00.001-04:00

Big Cypress National Preserve

What's better than a weekend in Big Cypress National Preserve? That's right, TWO weekends in Big Cypress National Preserve! This time I got to go out with two photographer friends Neil Losin, Paul Marcellini, and Garl Harrold from Garl's Coastal Kayaking.

I just can't get enough of this place and I'm kicking myself for waiting so long to get out and explore this massive, no-admission charged, and utterly remarkable area. If you can't tell, I'm stoked. Romping around in South Florida's wilderness is just as effective at recharging my batteries as sleeping in on a rainy Sunday. Actually, that was a terrible analogy. Let me explain it a little better.

Exposed pond apple roots along Robert's Lake Strand, Big Cypress

Imagine getting off the Florida Trail and delving into unmarked wilderness. Beneath the thick canopy of bald cypress trees and coco plum, lemon bacopa crunches under your feet punching a gentle zest into the gut of the stagnant humidity. Gator trails weave through the mud between stunted pond apples which extend their branches embracing orchids, epiphytes, and strangler figs. At the base of these gothic buttresses, cottonmouths wait to strike anything that crosses its path. After a half mile the gator trail highways converge into one and lead to an opening in the canopy. Following the muddy slough, you come to one of the last remaining water holes. Herons and egrets flush as you approach, trumpeting into the blue sky. In the middle of the shallow pond more than one hundred alligators gather. You have come during their feeding time. Unannounced, they propel out of the water crashing on their side with jaws agape, trashing wildly in the murky mire and chomping victoriously on a catfish. Looking up across the water, a black bear lumbers through the vegetation giving you a short and rare glimpse before disappearing into the cover of the swamp. You hear no roads. You see no sign of civilization. You feel no schedule weighing on your shoulders. The thick black mud squishes between your toes and you're childishly proud. This is the swamp. This is South Florida.

A water moccasin, or "cottonmouth" bares its fangs to warn predators

I want all of you to see this first hand, and it's not just this one strand in Big Cypress. I want you to come along on all my adventures to see the discoveries that exploration brings. My sofa isn't big enough for all of you, so instead, I've opted to create a video series to let you in on the action. I'm new at this, so I'll learn as I go, but if you can disregard my quirky remarks and childish giggle, I hope you'll enjoy Venture Out. Here's the first episode:

Venture Out: Big Cypress from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

A Gator Tale

2011-04-06T13:00:00.008-04:00

American alligator in Big Cypress National Preserve

This past weekend, I met up with a photographer friend Paul Marcellini in Big Cypress National Preserve to explore and photograph some new areas. Making sure to stay as far from the trail as possible, we used Paul's iPhone to navigate through the maze of cypress domes, praying that he wouldn't run out of service as we pushed deeper and deeper into unknown territories. At the tail end of the dry season, we expected to cover a lot of ground since we wouldn't have to slog through any blackwater. We set our bearings for gator holes which we knew would be the only places with water and of course, american alligators. Little did we know, however, that from start to finish we would cover all facets of an alligator's life.

Tamiami trail is known for its deep canal that runs along the the northern side of the road and provides perfect basking habitat for american alligators. Every once in a while a brave gator will try to cross the road. Sadly, some of the locals see this as sport and will jokingly refer to them as speed bumps. Accidents do happen, but it's hard to imagine a 10 foot alligator coming out of nowhere.

Another "speed bump" along the road. It's a sad thing to see, but a

reality on Tamiami Trail where both cars and alligators are abundant.

By the time we got to our starting point the sun was high enough in the sky that we didn't expect to shoot much in the cypress domes. Although 8:00 is by no means too late, once under the canopy it becomes difficult to avoid intense tonal contrasts with mottled light. Shrugging, I turned to Paul and said, "I guess we'll have to shoot things a little tighter." I had no idea what that harmless plan would lead to.

Throughout our 3 mile trek, we encountered 11 different gator holes. Gator holes are clearings typically in a cypress strand where alligators have excavated plants and debris. In doing this, they ensure when water is scarce, they will always have a self contained water source to feed on fish until the rains return. Each gator hole had its own resident and we were surprised to find hatchlings swimming around so early in the season.

It's mating season right now in the Everglades, but apparently some

alligators are ahead of the curve.

We even came across a gator hole where the resident alligator hadn't been so fortunate. It's hard to fathom that a gator of that size would die of natural causes, so I'm suspecting foul play. Whatever the case it smelled horrible, but that didn't stop the black vultures from enjoying a nice Sunday brunch.

Black vultures, the recyclers of the Everglades make quick work of an alligator

Around 10:00, we arrived at a hole where a mother and her hatchlings swam amongst splashing fish. She watched us with a weary gaze as we skirted her home. The mud surrounding the water was deep and heavy. Looking up, we noticed a tail and snout sticking out from the muck. Looks like we found our "tight shot." Hesitating, just a little, we got in close with our macro lenses relying on the weight of the mud to discourage any movement from the gator.

In the Everglades, the mud has eyes

Certainly a manageable size, at 6-7 feet, Paul and I were confident but grateful the other was there with a helping hand, or a camera at least. So we got in closer.

Paul Marcellini in his element

Slowly, the gator brought its head out of the mud and let us know it was his mud. I've imagined a photo like this for a long time and I wasn't going to blow it. I attached a wide angle lens and lowered my camera as close to the mud as possible. The gator burped and hissed, releasing the smell of rotting flesh into the air and I triggered the shutter.

"The Dragon's Lair" a new print available at MacStonePhoto.com

After a few frames, we backed away slowly and thanked the gator for its hospitality. It was a raw and beautiful experience sharing space in the lair of a dragon. When I got home I called a friend and told him about our afternoon, excited to show him the pictures. He laughed, agreed it sounded like an adventure, then casually told me he had just returned from swimming with over 40 gators. While such a thing is far beyond my comfort zone, it's not so uncommon down here. Still, I'd much rather photograph them from terra-somewhat-firma. Although, now that I think about it, an underwater photo looking up at their silhouetted bodies against an aqueous sky sounds pretty tempting... hmmmm....

NANPA Summit

2011-03-19T22:39:00.001-04:00

NANPA High School Scholarship winner Kathryn Boyd-Batstone with one of Canon's

behemoth lenses and 7D bodies at South Padre Island, Texas.

Every year the North American Nature Photography Association hosts a conference inviting the nation's top shooters. The annual summit lasts three days providing the attendees with keynote speeches, workshops from the industry leaders, and a trade show of exhibitors showcasing the latest equipment. It's an overwhelming place and I've met some lifelong friends and mentors at this conference over the years. The most rewarding part, however, is getting to participate as an instructor for the high school scholarship program.

Before the new year NANPA selects ten high school and ten college students to attend the conference which usually falls in February or March. The students arrive three days early and are thrown into the lion's den with mornings that begin at 5:00 AM and end at 12:00 AM. Sponsored by Canon, Hunts Photo and Video, Wimberley, Delkin, Nik Software, and Manfrotto tripods, they get the chance to use the best gear in choice locations with direct tutelage from professionals like Raymond Klass, Sharon Klass, Ellen Anon, Michael Nadler, Lou Nettlehorst, Ray Pfortner, and myself.

This year's winners were Joe Sulik, Jayleen Beedle, Alex Sandlin, Johan Doornenbal, Timmothy Brooks, Benjamin Knoot, Ben Walker, Kathryn Boyd-Batstone, Luke Crouch, and Danny Waterman.

Instructor Ray Pfortner with student Timothy Brooks at South Padre Island

I could write a novel from all the stories and experiences we had in our short week together, but I'd rather you hear it from them. Here's a video which we showcased to the 300 attendees on the last night of the conference put together by Raymond Klass. They received a standing ovation from the most respected names in nature photography. How's that for wind at your back?

North American Nature Photography Association's 2011 High School Scholarship Program from NANPA on Vimeo.

Eight years ago, I was a student and one of the ten recipients of the NANPA high school scholarship. At that conference I was offered my first professional job, promoting and building a photography ranch in McAllen, Texas. The following three years they sent me to attend the summit's tradeshow on behalf of the Cozad Ranch to promote photography excursions in McAllen. Three years ago I accompanied one of my students from the Honduran organization GUARUMA as a translator and liaison in a life-changing trip. I was with him on his first airplane ride and next to him as he said his tearful goodbyes to the other students. Now I'm an instructor at the annual summit in McAllen, Texas and I find myself glowing with coincidence.

NANPA gave me a foundation for my confidence to build and a fertile place for my ideas to grow. It's been a long beautiful ride. I love a full circle and even more so, the potential energy stored in our youth. It's impossible to predict the ways they will change this world but I can't wait to follow along.

Did I mention my middle name is McAllen?

Anhinga Trail

2011-03-15T01:29:00.002-04:00

Anhinga Trail - The newest print available at MacStonePhoto.com

There are only a few places I've been for bird watching that rival the Everglades' Anhinga Trail. This isn't one of my "secret spots," either. I'm pretty sure every tourist from New York to California knows that in the dry season, this small section of boardwalk and previously-quarried pond offers front row seats to the wading bird and alligator show. As fish are bottle-necked into the deeper waters they stand little chance against the patience and sharp bills of the herons and anhingas which line the banks.

Double-crested cormorant

I normally drive past places like this because of the crowds. It's hard for me to justify making a trip out to the third largest national park in the lower 48 that encompasses 1.5 million acres only to share personal space with strangers. Photographers line the boardwalk trying to keep their tripod legs from getting bumped by passing strollers while large groups of boy scouts, girl scouts, Europeans, Asians, and tour groups make their excitement audible. It's not such a bad thing, though. Sharing, that is. In fact, it's the constant stream of visitors that make this place so unique.

Pied-billed grebe with a dollar sunfish

The birds are so accustomed to people they have no fear of courting, foraging, or displaying right in front of a lens. Sometimes, it seems that because I'm there with a camera, they put on their best show.

Green heron

Within 20 minutes of visiting last week I saw great blue herons, woodstorks, purple gallinules, american coots, white ibis, green herons, pied-billed grebes, great egrets, snowy egrets, little blue herons, tri-colored herons, cormorants, and of course, anhingas. Oh and I almost forgot: the black vultures. Probably the least photographed bird at the park, these unloved bottom-feeders of the system will do anything for attention. With unnerving bravado, they bark, grunt, and even steal your lens caps simply out of spite. The vengeful vultures, so upset with their lot in life, have resorted to crime and pillaging. These gothic mongrels of the sky will chew the weather sealing of your car doors and windshield wiper blades while you're away taking pictures of other, more colorful birds.

Anhinga or "snake bird" in breeding plumage

If you happen to be in South Florida or the Everglades during the dry season, I would say Anhinga Trail is a must-see. While it might not be the ideal place for peaceful solitude, it is the premier spot for close encounters with birds and alligators. Just make sure you park your car at the far end of the lot.

Wallpaper for your desktop

2011-03-01T18:59:00.000-05:00

Two months ago a fellow photographer and friend of mine, Neil Losin, had a feature article in Birder's World magazine about burrowing owls. The editors used one of my images for the opening spread and we stayed in touch over the winter. Just recently, they changed their name to Bird Watching Magazine and contacted me about using a few of my images for their members to download as wallpapers. If you'd like access to these photos and other great bird photography check it out! And wait... the best part... is it's totally free!

Click to download free wallpapers!

One of the photos available for download with Bird Watching Daily

Fisheating Creek

2011-02-22T01:40:00.000-05:00

So wait, you thought that I went paddling and camping in this awesome tree, in this incredibly scenic place, and didn't bother waking up to shoot the next day? Come on now, guys, you can hold me to higher standards than that...

Ok, so I'd be lying if I told you sleeping in the Giving Tree was as romantic and peaceful as it sounds. In fact, I barely slept. Temperatures dropped down into the 40s that night and my hammock offered little protection, especially with wet clothes. It's bittersweet though, because when I looked at my watch in the pre-dawn, I was more than ready to get my blood flowing, even if that meant having to walk through the cold water to get to my camera gear. Giddy, because there's nothing like photographing a swamp in the fog, I jumped in my kayak and headed out for the morning.

There were so many seductive landscapes, I could barely contain myself. As the sun glowed over the creek, I could feel the energy pulsing through the trees. This is a magical place.

After eating breakfast and loading up the kayaks, we headed downstream and explored along the exposed banks. With water levels low, it made for some very dramatic landscapes.

It stayed cold most of the day, so I wasn't surprised not seeing many reptiles. Only a couple of snakes managed to poke their heads out, trying to see if it was worth leaving the warmth of their cypress tree.

Only an anhinga dared to brave the cold water for a meal.

Science Friday!

2011-02-18T22:54:00.001-05:00

I'm a pretty big NPR nerd. I subscribe to many of their podcasts and most mornings I'll wait in the parking lot at work just to finish listening to a story on the radio before going in. Not only are they a class-act organization, they bring so many services at no cost to the consumer. Programs like Science Friday, This American Life, Car Talk, and Wait Wait Don't Tell Me are all available for download and I would highly recommend any one of these for you non-believers.

Many of you may remember the burrowing owl video I posted back in December of 2010. I received so many positive comments and I really appreciated all of you who forwarded the video on to your friends and family. One "Anonymous" commented on my blog that I should submit the video into NPR for their Science Friday weekly showcase. If you're reading this, thank you for the suggestion.

Just this afternoon NPR called me for an interview while posting the video on their webpage. It was a short interview, but the exposure was great. I was so thrilled to hear from friends in California, Texas, North Carolina, Florida, and South Carolina that they heard the program.

For anyone that missed it and would like to hear the interview and see the video again, here's the link.

NPR Science Friday - Creature Feature (look at the lefthand side of the page for the audio file, my section is halfway through).

The Giving Tree

2011-02-13T16:23:00.002-05:00

Adam Sittler, a swamp-stomping yankee in training

Adam Sittler planned to visit me for only a few days before flying down to Honduras and Belize. Due to health complications, however, he's been forced to stay in the Florida Keys for three weeks (harsh alternative, I know), completely foregoing his trip to Central America. While I was at work during the week, he found the energy to accomplish many things which I'm embarrassed to say that I've neglected to do in my year and a half of living here. To name a few, he's driven down to Key West, he's read a book on a private beach, he's captured invasive pythons with my herpetologist friends, and he's collected exotic chameleons outside the Everglades resulting in a surprise assault of SWAT-geared police officers with guns drawn at 1:00 in the morning (great story).

When Saturday came, the pressure was on to find a place worthy of our weekend all while keeping up with the caliber of adventure Adam already established. Not that I was willing to involve the police, but we all wanted to get our heart rates up. I must say that I have the coolest, most positively enabling friends, because when the only idea I came up with involved driving 3.5 hours to a place I'd never been before, arriving at dark, and paddling for who knows how long until finding a place to hang a hammock, I wasn't met with any "what ifs" or "I don't knows...". Instead, both Sittler and Adam Chasey jumped on the plan (or absence of a plan, rather) without hesitation.

Sunset over the Tamiami Trail

When Sittler got out of his last doctor's appointment at 3:00 PM we picked up Chasey and headed for Fisheating Creek. After loading up kayaks, hammocks, and enough photography equipment to rival a national geographic expedition, we set out on the road. The sun was already setting over the Tamiami Trail and we were still two hours away from our destination. Passing the endless agricultural expanses we watched the sugarcane fields blazing in the distance which added to the looming uncertainty of our trip. It felt like a scene out of some Cormac McCarthy book.

Sugarcane fields during a controlled burn

We finally arrived at the park by 8:00 PM and unloaded the boats and gear, staring out into the darkness with only the twinkle of starlight and alligator eyes reflecting on the water. The only form of compass we had was the knowledge that there was a tree somewhere along the creek where we could set up camp. That's it.

Kayaks stocked to the brim, we set out around 9:00 after waterproofing everything

With so few expectations it's incredible how overwhelmed and surprised you can be. I'm a big proponent of planning, but an even bigger advocate of spontaneity. Navigating with our headlamps we were only allowed partial glimpses of the landscape and the winding creek obscured each turn with anticipation. Bald cypress trees, denuded from the cold winter, lined the banks. Their spindly knees reached out into the black water, some so large you could paddle beneath them. Every tree could have been the tree we were looking for.

That's what we kept saying at least, until we found The Tree.

The Giving Tree, as I call it, during a 2 minute exposure, illuminated with flashlights

There was no mistaking that this is where we were meant to camp. A white sand beach, exposed from the dropping water levels, offered front row seats to what would become a two-hour endeavor to illuminate the iconic cypress and its fortress of knees with flashlights while our cameras recorded the ensuing madness. By 1:00 AM we exhausted ourselves and our batteries. As the adrenaline wore off, we started feeling the cold gnawing at our toes so we sought refuge in our sleeping bags. The temptation was too great to ignore, so I climbed up the tree and hung my hammock between two branches, dangling like another epiphyte. Just before going to sleep I considered the headline in the morning paper, Camping trip comes to a gruesome end as young man is empaled on cypress knee. Perhaps that's what it would take to have my photo on the front page of the Palmdale tribune, but thankfully, my normal sleeping acrobatics subsided for the night.

Another camping trip added to the list of unforgettable adventures.

Mystic River

2011-02-04T23:31:00.000-05:00

Bob Key in the Florida Bay

Across the aqua greens of the Florida Bay a winter horizon brews up an ominous front. The water is unusually calm considering the rapid shifting of these tectonic clouds, easing the bouncing bow and the clank of our anchor. Still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I start considering the adventure ahead and my excitement builds. Passing mangrove islands, our wake leaves a fading trail northbound to Little Madiera Bay and the mouth of Taylor River.

Tillandsia clings to a mangrove branch on Taylor River

Three days out of every month, coworker Adam Chasey and I make the hour and a half trip to this restricted area of Everglades National Park as part of our research. One of the most intact and directly undisturbed areas in the park, Taylor River is a truly magical place. Only accessible by boat and following a seemingly unrecognizable path, the brackish water carves through mosaic mangroves and empties into a series of small lakes. Along the banks of these cold winter days, American crocodiles, an endangered species, bask in the sun ignoring the hum of our motor.

American crocodile on the first lake of Taylor River

Boating along, schools of mangrove snapper and snook dart from underneath prop roots while anhingas clumsily fall into the water to evade our foreign vessel. The cacophony of herons and egrets overpower our motor as we enter their secluded communities. Upstream, small spherical boils break the water's complexion followed by the exhausted sighs of a manatee coming up for air.

A manatee breeches the water's surface as it comes up for air.

Soon the river narrows and disappears into a dense wall of foliage. Full speed ahead, Adam points the bow at a small cave-like hole shrouded by rogue limbs. Bracing for impact, I wince, but instead we plunge into what's known as the Long Narrows. He brings the motor to a soft hum and opening my eyes the sky is gone and the adrenaline surrenders to wonderment as we start drifting through a prehistoric passageway. It's as if we pulled off the interstate at rush hour and immediately exited onto a wooded country road. Moccasins as thick as my forearm sit on top of the water waiting for their breakfast to swim by.

Water moccasin or cottonmouth as it's also called, waits in the prop roots of a mangrove for food.

Sound, as well as time, seem to be trapped here. Ever since the oceans receded and our enigmatic state emerged, water became the writer of history. For decades we have tried to manipulate and coerce this aqueous renegade to bend and flow to our needs without much consideration as to what happens downstream. As our understanding of this complex system grows I hope we will realize the biological wealth that this incredibly diverse area offers and strive to protect it on all levels. We must acknowledge that in the heart of the Everglades, the pulse of life is indeed a mystic river.

"Mystic River" a new print available through MacStonePhoto.com

Good morning

2011-02-03T20:59:00.000-05:00

Sunrise on the Florida Bay over Islamorada

February, it's so great to see you again.

Dry Season

2011-02-02T00:55:00.001-05:00

Seasonal fluctuations between June 2010 and January 2011

The winter is a strange time for Floridians. At least three times out of the year we look to our fellow Americans for commiseration when we have to scrape the ice off our windshields before going to work. Instead of empathy and solidarity, I get "You have no idea what cold is." Just once though, I would like to hear "Oh, man, I know, it's brutal isn't it?" I am reminded constantly by my northern friends that I shouldn't complain about 40 degree mornings and that they don't consider Florida really even having seasons. I mean how can a state that's only 1,600 miles from the equator be affected by the earth's axis, especially if this state only consists of four biomes: Miami, Disney World, beach, and golf course?

Well, for all those non-believers out there, here's my rebuttal. This past weekend a college friend from New York, Adam Sittler, escaped the snow and came down to visit. He had never been in a swamp before so I took him to one of my favorite cypress sloughs. He learned pretty quick that the water does in fact get cold down here, as we plunged into a canal, hoping we wouldn't attract any gators with our splashing.

Canal crossing on the Tamiami Trail

His main goal was to see an alligator "in the wild" as he put it, so I promised him at least fifty before we even got out of the car. This is not a lofty goal along the Tamiami Trail on a sunny winter day. As water levels drop and the mercury falls, reptilian sunbathers line the shores of the canals to warm up before the cold night. Tourists also line the waterways equipped with cameras and binoculars, but Adam specifically required "in the wild," so we went slogging in hopes of finding an untamed swamp dragon. I didn't know we would find the strangest looking alligator I've ever seen.

I have no idea how this happens, but perhaps this one lost a territory battle...

All along the way we saw barred owls, egrets, and ibis combing the shallow waters for fish and invertebrates.

Great egret

When we got back in the car, I saw him turn the heat on before reaching for a fleece. This was my silent victory.

Top photo: high water in June 2010

Bottom photo: low water in January 2011

We may not always have harsh reminders like snowstorms that remind us the earth is still spinning but I think that's why I've fallen in love with Florida. There is very little here that is overt; no towering peaks, no deep gorges or valleys carved by glaciers. You have to look hard, and in doing so, you often see so much more.

Until the Fog Clears

2011-01-22T21:25:00.002-05:00

Sunrise over Homestead, FL

For the last two weeks, South Florida has been cloaked in heavy fog. It's funny to think about how insignificant and maybe even unnoticeable this might be for most people as they go to work, but for the boaters, fishermen, pilots, and Audubon field biologists it turns the daily commute into a dangerous guessing game, which is incredibly fun to photograph.

Forced to sit and wait an hour before the fog clears at the mouth of Joe Bay, ENP

The Florida Bay is notorious for being one of the most difficult places to navigate due to unmarked cuts and shallow banks that leave surprised boaters stranded and even severely injured. Throw a thick blanket of fog over the water and forget anticipating a sharp turn or dodging other equally blind captains. Similarly in the air, our helicopter pilot refuses to drop us in an area he can't see from 800 feet up. Since our data need to be collected within the first three hours of the sunrise, we can't handle too much deviation from an already strict schedule. Because of fog, a 10-hour day can painfully turn into a 14-hour day. It's fair to say my love for these low-lying clouds is bittersweet.

Pinelands in the Everglades national Park

Ok, so a 14-hour day is a small price to pay for getting to see the magic of the morning. At 800 feet above the Everglades, fog is a living, moving, breathing thing. It lifts and disperses, embracing the pinelands and dancing across the sawgrass prairies. Varied air currents send ripples across the water vapor in patterns I've never seen before.

Just below the fog line the warm sunrise light diffuses into a soft even glow.

"Egret Fly By" the newest print added to my portfolio.

On ground level, it's the perfect backdrop for isolating subjects.

Burrowing owl in Homestead, Florida

There's something eerily seductive about fog. It's the bleak isolation of its veil and intimacy of its silence that speaks to me. I hope you all get the chance to take one morning to explore your woods and prairies while winter still lingers for the next month!

It's all about perspective

2011-01-09T22:56:00.001-05:00

Parrot Snake - Cangrejal River - Honduras

Top photo by Jonathan Zoba

One of my New Year's resolutions is to clean up my image archives. With tens of thousands of photos, it's a daunting but necessary task. While I have my work cut out for me over the next few months, it's going to be fun reliving some old adventures. Recently, I came across a folder with some images taken by friends who have accompanied me on my photo outings over the years. Locating the time stamps in their metadata, I paired them up with my photographs taken at the same time from my camera and found some fun juxtapositions.

Skimmers - Everglades National Park

Top photo by Hannah Dillard

I love looking back to see exactly where I was when some of my favorite images were taken and thanks to my trigger-happy adventure buddies, I can get a glimpse of the entire moment - not just through my lens. After looking at these combinations, it reaffirms what I've always told my students: making powerful images is simple, it's just all about perspective.

Barred Owl - Everglades National Park

Left photo by Hannah Dillard

The Jumper - Las Mangas, Honduras

Left photo by Camilo Lopez

All You Need Is...

2010-12-25T20:44:00.002-05:00

Aerial photographs taken in Everglades National Park

With Christmas tunes pulsing through the radio, nutcrackers poised at attention on the mantel, and 30 degrees biting at the windows, I am sitting by the fire at my parents' house in Gainesville, Florida. My two older brothers, aunts, cousins, and two dogs are in the family room snuggled up watching a movie. There are still a couple people missing by this fire, but that's okay. I have a full belly of warm chili, I'm wearing my favorite sweatpants, and I'm in such a peaceful place right now, thinking back on the year; not so much about what I've received this year, but what I've always had.

I am so grateful for such a solid support group, uncompromisable friends, and an indomitable family. With everyone already all buttered up on holidays spirit, it's the perfect time to voice my gratitude.

So I would like to say thank you, for tagging along, for carrying me through, for pushing me forward, and for never holding back. Merry Christmas!

There's nothing you can make that can't be made

No one you can save that can't be saved

Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time,

It's easy...

All you need is Love.

Burrowing Owls

2010-12-14T09:37:00.033-05:00

Photographing owls is usually difficult, as they have wide territorial ranges, are primarily nocturnal, and they nest high in tree cavities. Burrowing owls, however, are diurnal and do most of their hunting and flying around a small open area. Since their burrows are fixed, it’s easy to predict where they’ll be a week from now or even 5 minutes from now. They prefer expansive grasslands where they can easily prey on insects and small vertebrates. But, like most habitat-specific animals, their survival is greatly determined by the profitability of their landscapes. Dry, flat grasslands are valuable commodities in South Florida for agricultural use, golf courses, or new strip malls which leaves very little room for these ground dwellers. Now on the protected species list, their numbers are steady but they’ve had to make some serious adjustments to their living styles: owls on boats.

It’s incredibly rare to see images of these birds with their surroundings intact, usually because their backyards include golf carts or housing developments. You can imagine my excitement then when a coworker pointed these owls out to me in Homestead, and all around them tall and lush grassland. My first instinct with wildlife photography is to grab the long lens because it’s hard to get close to wild birds. I’ve seen so many photographs of burrowing owl portraits though, that I wanted something different, something new. I immediately started making plans to create another Gator Cam-type series of images.

My first setup, a hideous thing which the owls wouldn't go anywhere near.

Birds are tricky. Unlike reptiles, they actually care if a foreign object is staring at them in the face. I found this out the hard way and my first attempts failed miserably. Worried that I would frighten the owls, I stopped the project and went back to the drawing board. I visited them several times, watching their behavior and trying to figure out how I could position my camera without scaring them away.

Burrowing owl at sunrise with road cones marking their burrows.

It became obvious as soon as I acknowledged the owls’ affinity to the road cones, which were placed by their burrows so vehicles or people wouldn’t accidentally run over them. The light bulb nearly exploded over my head.

Cone-hide with camera lens partially exposed

Here I had a foreign object made of a pliable material that I could hide the camera in without the need of a tripod. Over the next couple of days I designed my road cone camera hide and made a trip out to Homestead to test it out.

With long intervals, it was frequent that they weren't looking at the camera

Attaching an intervelometer, I programmed the camera to take a picture every 30 seconds hoping they would occupy various parts of the frame over the course of a 5-hour session. While the camera fired, I sat and waited (hoping really) until my memory card filled up. I quickly learned that burrowing owls move a lot more than alligators sunning on a log. I needed shorter intervals.

Every trip to the cone was a learning experience and I tweaked the setup each time. It felt like Christmas. I never knew what I would get, but I counted down the hours just the same. Over the last 6 months I have attempted to photograph these birds 19 times. Each effort consisted of a 5-hour and 2-hour block of continuous shooting every 5 seconds. Yes, that’s a lot of images, but it only takes one good one to make it count.

I put this video together to show you just how much character these beautiful birds have. They are so completely neurotic it's comical, but how could you blame them? With coyotes lurking, stray dogs sniffing, and raptors soaring above, you've got to keep those bright hypnotic-yellow eyes peeled.

I have set this video to follow the theme of an owl who has lost his love and is now waiting for her to return. I give you the Owl Cam.

Burrowing Owls from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

New Website Launch

2010-12-07T00:21:00.001-05:00

I am proud to announce the new website for Mac Stone Photography! Visit the link to see the new features and online galleries of images and movies. Some new features include a multimedia section with videos and slideshows, a cleaner display of larger images, and prints can now be ordered right from the site.

www.MacStonePhoto.com

I am not a programmer by any means so I needed to use an online builder that was dummy-proof. I don't throw out too many endorsements, but I have to say that using Square Space to build my site was the best decision I could have made. I am so humbled by this experience which has taken a little more than 3 months to complete. As easy as it was to use, I still called on the help of the very talented graphic designer, Hannah Dillard. She helped with all facets of the design phase and tolerated my constant nitpicking, even on Friday nights.

As we move into the new year I will be constantly tweaking and modifying the page to fit the direction of my photography. I hope you enjoy it and please tell me your comments or concerns. Thank you for all your support!

Field Work

2010-11-21T19:31:00.000-05:00

Erin Woods, Adam Chasey, and Michelle Robinson with gear before loading up the helicopter.

If Audubon at Tavernier Science Center were a religious organization, our patron saint would be Edward Murphy. Not the goofy king of blockbuster sequels, but the aerospace engineer famous for the phrase “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.” We subscribe to this idiom as a way to cope with all the frustrations of field work. I have found that it’s much easier to blame the cruel and perverse universe for the failed engines, flat tires, lost boat plugs, silent alarm clocks, lightning storms, and the vulnerability of myself, my crew, and all of our equipment than to accept personal responsibility.

In fact, it’s a general rule of thumb that if you are comfortable while working in the Everglades, you’re probably not being very efficient. By the nature of our job, we are required to be constantly wet, overheated, sweaty, and bug-bitten; all during the early hours of sunrise.

Cotton is certainly not the fabric of my life. Now I wear clothes with embedded bug repellent made from fibers that are SPF 50+ and fast-wicking so I don’t stay wet for more than 10 minutes in the Florida sun. My pants are tear-proof and can be buttoned to three quarter length or zipped off into shorts. My hat has pockets. That’s right, my clothes are complicated. What's worse, is that even my vocabulary has changed. For fear of offending my counterparts I wouldn't dare call a black vulture a buzzard, or a laughing gull a seagull, and the plants growing in the water I now must refer to as submerged aquatic vegetation (SAV). Oh, and I don't take sharp turns anymore, I negotiate them.

We acknowledge the sacrifices required of getting to spend 10 hours working in one of the most wild places in the country. A few close calls with lightning storms or curious crocodiles seems like a small price to pay. In spite of the tough conditions, we find ways of enjoying ourselves. Recently, I've started a subtle mental terrorism campaign on my coworkers. When dropping them off at their sites, I will start humming or whistling an annoyingly catchy song just loud enough so it gets stuck in their heads for the whole day. I find Chumbawamba's hit single "Tubthumping" a powerful weapon in my arsenal.

Field work, with all its idiosyncrasies is difficult and demanding at times but the rewards are constant and overt. We traverse all kinds of environments and wilderness to get to our sites and I count on the fact that each day will be a new adventure with a new set of challenges. Just to give you an idea of what we go through, or rather, what we get to go through, I have compiled a video of outtakes from the field. Enjoy!

Field Work from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

Beauty in the Chaos

2010-11-14T23:48:00.002-05:00

Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park

Five years ago in the Ecuadorian amazon, I learned that rainforests were extremely hard places to photograph. Due to the mottled light patterns of a harsh sun, a dense understory, and an overwhelming abundance of life, it's difficult to extract the order from the disorder. Although we have no rainforests in Florida, the Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park is as close as it gets to a visually chaotic landscape.

I met up with fellow Florida photographers John Moran, David Moynahan, and Paul Marcellini this weekend to undertake such an endeavor. All accomplished nature photographers, I figured with our powers combined we would come out with at least a few images worthy of the sweaty hours spent sloshing through the blackwater.

Photography is usually a lone venture. Most of us like it that way. But occasionally, it helps to be surrounded by others who share the same passion. It's also nice to know you're not the only one walking blindly through erie bodies of water holding hissing alligators and inconspicuous moccasins. "I'm not sure if it's power in numbers, or stupidity in numbers," as John put it so eloquently.

From left: John Moran, David Moynahan, and Paul Marcellini

For three days we shared ideas, techniques, body odors, and mosquito bites while exploring one of south Florida's gems. However daunting the task or thick the going, it is my greatest pleasure in life to constantly seek out the beauty in the chaos.

The Everglades

2010-11-10T23:52:00.000-05:00

As of today, it's been one year since I landed on this island. When I accepted the job with National Audubon back in October of 09, I was en route from having spent an unforgettable summer working in Wyoming. I loved life like a reckless child back in sagebrush country and I couldn't imagine leaving it behind. I didn't know if I was going to like the Florida Keys; I didn't know if it would speak to me the way the A Bar A Ranch had. It was a difficult transition to make with only weeks between kicking off my cowboy boots and trading them in for sandals. I can clearly say now, that my heart wasn't ready for the move for many reasons. The first month was tough - emotionally and physically. Slowly, the Keys took me in and the Everglades started working on me, wedging its way into a corner of my heart. One thing I've learned since coming here is that it takes time to develop a meaningful relationship. Love doesn't come easy and certainly not without its sacrifices and compromises. But, if our channels are open, we can receive the ultimate gift and reap the countless rewards of a love shared.

So, to an equally rewarding and inspired future, happy anniversary, Everglades.

The Everglades from Mac Stone on Vimeo.

Bringing One Home for the Swamp

2010-10-21T03:13:00.003-04:00

Or, I guess, it's more like bringing TWO home for the swamp.

As many of you know, I'm working on a large scale project regarding swamps. Or, as I like to call them, America's redheaded step children. Historically and currently, our swamps have taken the backseat when it comes to the PR of American landscapes. Viewed as mere blemishes on the land, they have carried the scarlet letter of haunted wastelands and general impediments to civilization ever since our ancestors arrived from Europe. It seems that so much of the public disdain for these vital ecological areas comes from negative publicity and the lingering hangover of our manifest destiny mentality.

My goal is to give a new face to swamps. I want everyone to paddle through the braided channels of a cypress slough. I want them to seek out the blackwater like they seek out the ocean. I want our swamps to have a second chance at winning back the respect and adoration of the public.

Received a Highly Commended from the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the year contest this evening.

So, today is a small step in that direction. This evening at the Natural History Museum of London, England, winners were announced for the 2010 BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year contest. Tens of thousands of images were submitted from all over the globe to compete for top spots in several categories. One of my images taken during a stint working in the Francis Beidler Forest in South Carolina was awarded in the category Animals in their Environment. I am so honored to be among the commended artists, but more importantly, I'm thrilled for the chance to bring the beauty of this landscape to millions of viewers. Follow this link to see other images from the competition.

I have known about my placement in this competition for quite some time now and have been itching to tell you but was under strict instructions not to mention anything until the 21st. Officially and legally, the cat is out of the bag.

Received Highly Honored in the Windland Smith

Rice International Awards

As if it couldn't get any better, I received one more bit of good news. The Windland Smith Rice International awards in conjunction with Nature's Best Magazine notified me that another one of my images taken in South Carolina placed in their contest as well. Just as competitive, this contest receives over 20,000 images worldwide and the winners have their images framed and hung on the walls of the Smithsonian for five months. Not only will these images help to put the Francis Beidler Forest on the map, they will be my catalysts to changing public opinions of our beloved swamps.

My Apologies

2010-10-20T00:26:00.002-04:00

A male goldspotted killifish (Floridichtys carpio) in full breeding colors.

This guy was about an inch and a half long.

Following the blog titled “Silence of the Fish” I received many emails and comments offering condolences that I spent my summer rummaging through piles of rotting fish. Well, sort of. More than a few of you said in so many words that this was my punishment for getting to work in the Everglades, and I that deserved all the nauseating hours as if it were some form of penitence. Perhaps karma is at work here, and just in case, I’m going to clear my record.

While the Day 2 fish are the fun story to tell, there’s another truth I’d be remiss not to mention. Clown gobies, rainwater killifish, flagfish, and sailfin mollies are some of the most beautifully colored and intelligently designed animals I’ve ever worked with. I’m in awe of how intricate and simplistic they are in their form and function. How can the prey base of an ecosystem, the bottom feeders, be so elegant and yet so unfortunate? It just goes to show that a lot of time has been put into building this web of life; a lot of natural selection, and millennia of adaptations.

So, this post will be my homage to the bottom of the totem pole, the unsung heroes of the Everglades.

Diversity is beautiful.

Sing it Loud!

2010-10-03T20:25:00.002-04:00

Double rainbow over the Everglades

We were so close to calling our helicopter pilot yesterday and telling him to meet us at 9:00 AM instead of 7:00. Sometimes, all I want is another hour of sleep, to ignore the buzzing alarm which sounds at 4:00 AM for our helicopter sample days. Then I realize how much is at stake. This morning mother nature summoned the whole congregation and belted out to the heavens. How fortunate we are to be surrounded by such unpredictable beauty.

Torrential rains over Shark River Slough

Florida Forever 2011 Conservation Photography Calendar

2010-09-30T21:58:00.000-04:00

The 2011 Florida Forever calendars just arrived and they are BEAUTIFUL! It is such a privilege to be among the 11 other nature photographers from around the state to be selected for this project. The calendar highlights 12 potential project sites for Florida Forever from around the state. Flipping through the pages, you get a real sense of the diversity of natural areas at stake. With enough public support, the Florida Forever program will remain a priority and we will have the chance to conserve and protect our natural heritage. The calendars make great stocking stuffers and gifts for friends and family as we come into the new year. Help spread the word of awareness and share the beauty of our fragile state!

Florida Forever 2011 Conservation Photography Calendar with cover by David Moynahan

at Dickerson Bay.

If you would like a calendar, feel free to use the ordering system below, you do not need a PayPal account to do so.

I was assigned to the hardwood uplands of Key Largo and had a wonderful time exploring and photographing this rare biome. A unique feature of this calendar, a caption below each photograph explains the ecological and social importance of each site and what is required to save it from development.

My photo in the calendar is of the endangered stock island tree snail found within
Crocodile Lake Wildlife Refuge.

Silence of the Fish

2010-09-20T13:56:00.017-04:00

Heather Schorge lays out a board of rainwater killifish (Lucania parva) at the Tavernier Science Center

Biologists would make good serial killers. Not of the Jack the Ripper variety, but something more of a methodical, curious, and scientific brand like Anthony Hopkins’ character in Silence of the Lambs. Not because we enjoy killing people or animals, but because we enjoy studying them in great detail when they're not so squirmy. I’ve noticed a severe disconnect exists with biologists, like a synapse jostled loose which keeps separated the icky squishes and smells of dead things from the clean cut living world. We all know these people. They’re the ones who contemplate boogers - the ones that seem to originate in the frontal lobe of brain, and upon removal, essentially clear your sinus problem - they also pick scabs, covet long ingrown hairs, and with wide eyes, pop zits onto the bathroom mirror. Yes, they might wear a suit and tie to work, but they can’t wait to examine the chunk of earwax that tumbles off their shoulder onto their desk.

An anatomy professor, my sweet little mom is a shining example of this double agent lifestyle. She may be pulling out one of her famous corn bread pies from the oven in her disarming apron, but just behind her warm smile and delicious baked goods rest eight pig hearts hardening in the freezer next to the Flintstone’s Push Pops. Things that would make an ordinary person's skin crawl are and were a topic of conversation at our dinner table, if not the center piece - quite literally actually, as my brothers and I have all been sewn up on the kitchen table from various injuries. Growing up, it was not uncommon for her to bring up stories during a meal about her newest cadaver. My dad, an OBGYN doctor, would ever so hypocritically gag, changing the subject to c-sections or something more appropriate like venereal diseases. Neither of which, I might add, went very well with meatloaf.

Clown goby (Microgobius gulosus) swallowing a rainwater killifish (Lucania parva) just before dying.

We have to measure and weigh both of them, even when partially digested.

While this sort of environment could easily damage a young child, it only helped to develop my high tolerance for gross things. One day, my mom brought home a bloody pair of cow lungs attached to a rubber tube to show me how they expanded and contracted when she blew on the other end. Fascinated, I immediately carried the soft, heavy pluck over to my next-door neighbor’s house. Hiding behind a buttress I rang the doorbell and laid the bloody heap on their welcome mat. When the mother, Wee Ching, answered the door, I blew into the tube and shared with her one of the many miracles of anatomy. Not so impressed by the pulsing gob of veins and cartilage, she slammed the door screaming something desperate in Chinese. It’s always been like this. I try to bring others to the threshold of my biological discoveries only to have them shut the door in my face.

In elementary school I was chastised for my dirty clothes. Not for the difficult stains, but for the wriggling lizard’s tails and daddy-long-legs bodies (which I meticulously separated from the legs) my mom would uncover in my pockets. Or the time in middle school when I was nearly grounded for borrowing her kitchen knives to dissect a toad, carefully compartmentalizing its organs in Tupperware containers in the fridge. Coming home from Honduras, I risked customs and smuggled my insect collection into the states, only to be scorned for the breaking the law. However, now, the colorful bugs are proudly displayed in our living room. And recently, my roommate in Wyoming complained the numerous sandwich bags of dried animal scat I collected were health hazards and general female deterrents.

A rotting tarpon head sits out near the scrap wood and water hose. One of my coworkers' treasures

from the field, this will be sure to rest on a mantle somewhere.

When I came to Tavernier last fall and stepped foot into the downstairs lab at Audubon, I finally found that long lost asylum where other like-minded explorers came to uncover secrets of the natural world. Shelves lined with vials of fish and other animals floating in formalin led to freezers stocked to the brim with birds, snakes, and anything else you might find in the Everglades. Jackpot!

A woodstork head has found refuge in the auto garage.

In a biologist’s office, empty space is valuable real estate to put maps and skeletons of unfortunate creatures. The more exotic and rare the artifacts, the more accomplished the biologist. Who needs a metal paperweight when you can safely stack your documents under a monkey skull? These little treasures aren’t restricted to the lab or the offices either. When going to wash off your boots by the hose, make sure not to step on the massive tarpon face, which has been decaying for a good part of the year. Oh, and if you need some brake fluid for the truck, it should be on the shelf in the garage right next to the preserved woodstork head.

Michelle Robinson measures some day one goldspotted killifish (Floridichtys carpio)

This summer I had the chance to put my so-called seasoned tolerance to the test. We are in the field eight months out of the year. Four of those months, then, are dedicated to processing the data in the lab. Data, in this case, means dead fish. And processing means thawing, identifying, measuring, weighing, and counting. We study the fish populations in terms of seasonality to determine population densities in relation to water depths and salinities. Some days we come back with forty fish, some days we come back with thousands. No need to worry though; these minnows are the prey base for the wading birds and they fornicate more than rabbits.

A typical summer sample board of over 400 rainwater killifish waits to be processed.

Since starting in November of 2009 I had been warned about summer in the lab. Horror stories of stifling temperatures and ungodly smells. Mountains of juicy Gambusia (mosquito fish) and slimy eels, their skin peeling off like burn victims. Yes, it would be an unforgettable summer. Upon thawing my first site and opening the Ziploc bag, I nearly vomited. I was struck with the same disbelief as when driving down the interstate and the lingering aroma of a paper mill wafts into the air conditioner. How could anyone get used to this wretched stench? I tried everything. I wore a surgical mask, when that didn’t work I sprayed the inside with lavender perfume which proved more caustic than the dead fish. I tried breathing through my mouth but my nose started to hurt after the second hour. Eventually by the third week, olfactory fatigue set in and by mid July I was eating chips and pizza at the lab table, as if the fish were my dinner guests.

The first sheepshead minnow (Cyprinodon variegatus) is a Day 1 fish.

The others that follow are varying degrees of Day 2 sheepshead minnows.

If only this blog were scratch and sniff.

The summer sample months of April and June prove the most unnerving to sort and i.d. When we go out into the field we have two days of sampling. The first day, the fish are fresh and recently dead and we quickly put them on ice to preserve them as well as we can. By the second day, however, the fish we missed the first day have been exposed to the blazing sun, warm water, and crabs, which enjoy picking at their stomachs. Day two fish, as they are called, exact their revenge by taking the form of scaly globs and we must pick through the masses to find their severed heads and tails.

Thawing a fish popsicle. It's hard not to try and give these little

guys voices and names with all those frozen expressions and personalities.

While this may sound miserable, we find ways to enjoy ourselves. My favorite prank is placing a day two fish on the rim of someone’s Coke, primarily Erin’s, because she never notices until the last minute. Eighteen years have passed since dumping the cow lungs on Wee Ching’s doorstep, and I’m still the biologist I ever was. This time, however, I can put it on my resume.

5 Hour Soul Energy

2010-09-15T00:01:00.000-04:00

A bottlenose dolphin breeches the water in the Florida Bay.

I've never been good at sleeping. I'm not an insomniac, just sometimes my mind kicks into 5th gear around 1:00 AM. This last Wednesday, wide awake at four in the morning, I dreaded the 5 AM wake up call for sample day. After three months of office work, getting back into the field with an hour of sleep proved a poor decision. I made plenty of mistakes and took severely longer than usual getting back into the swing of things. Tired, frustrated, and overheated, all I wanted was my bed.

Just when I had thrown in the towel, day dreaming of air conditioning, our massage chair, and jersey sheets, I spotted a pod of six bottlenose dolphins. The previous week, Luis Canedo taught me how to summon nearby dolphins simply by giving them a playground. Trimming up the motor and revving the engine, I created the largest wake possible behind our 17' Mako. Immediately, the dolphins changed directions and began drafting our boat, jumping and spinning in the waves.

Lucky, lucky, lucky. I have no idea if I'll ever get this close to a wild dolphin again.

For twenty minutes adrenaline took over and I felt as alert as ever. The high lasted until 2 AM that night as I edited the photos. Who needs energy drinks when you have the Florida Bay in your backyard? It just goes to show that even on the bleakest of days, nature can find a way to inspire, enrich, and awaken the soul.

Is it Worth It?

2010-09-08T19:55:00.000-04:00

The modern digital photographer has thousands, if not tens of thousands of images stored on their hard drives. I'm one of the latter. Before adding another twenty or thirty photos to the vault I ask myself, is it worth it? Will I use this photo? The very idea of unpacking my camera bag, changing lenses, composing, exposing, and working the subject until I get the shot is sometimes enough to trigger a complacence so grand it can only be mistaken for arrogance. "Oh, another barred owl? I've got one of those."

It seems like such a simple task - pulling out a camera, pointing, and shooting, but laziness is a devout polygamist and married to any number of excuses. The light is wrong. I don't want to get my camera wet. It'll be gone by the time I'm ready to shoot. The camera will just be a burden to bring along. My brand of indolence tends to walk hand in hand with familiar places. Once I've made a substantial portfolio of a particular location, I become increasingly picky as to what I will shoot. This blatant hubris never seemed so clear to me until last week when a friend, Garl Harrold, called to report he found a juvenile southeastern five-lined skink and would hold on to it so I could take pictures. I stammered on the phone, trying to be polite while dropping subtle clues that he shouldn't have gone through the trouble for something so common as a skink. "No really, Garl, you shouldn't have gone through the trouble..."

When I came into work the next morning, a water bottle containing a small lizard was sitting on my desk with a note from Garl. It sat there for half the morning haunting me, whispering to me, now you owe it to him, Mac. As we all know, guilt is a formidable force. Even laziness, with its posse of vindications, is no match for a guilty conscience. With heavy steps I carried the skink down to the lab and the gears started to turn. Suddenly, I had an assignment. Placing it on a piece of porcelain I used a strobe to blow out the background and hold fast to color. During the ten minutes of trying to keep the wiggling reptile on the porcelain, the once burden became a challenge, and the common skink evolved into an other-worldly creature. So excited by the outcome, I immediately rushed home to upload the image onto my computer.

I owe it to Garl for rekindling my artistic wonderment of nature, which is the whole reason I started photography. Now, the first thought isn't "is it worth it?" Instead, it's, "will this be fun?"

A Southeastern Five-lined Skink (Eumeces inexpectatus) shot in various positions on porcelain

and merged into one frame.

Happy Labor Day Weekend!

2010-09-04T23:40:00.000-04:00

Labor Day sunset off the Florida Bay in Islamorada

I can't think of a better way to spend Labor Day weekend than watching the Gators win, however sloppy, their first home game. The only thing that could top that of course would be a smooth paddle under a vibrant sunset. Behind me, from the balcony of a bayside home, a family yelled over a bull-horn "Happy Labor Day weekend!" to all the passing boats. I guess I wasn't the only one enjoying the wonderful view.

The Road to Restoration

2010-08-30T17:39:00.004-04:00

When I picture South Florida development in the early twentieth century, Pixar’s Toy Story comes to mind. Specifically that scene where the twisted neighborhood menace, Sid, blows up his toys and then haphazardly puts them back together. The result, a tangled mess of limbs and appendages painfully trying to pass as functioning toys. Throughout the carnage, his parents, the supposed voices of reason and control, are nowhere to be seen. Looking at a map which highlights all the canals and modified waterways of South Florida, early Floridian pioneers' lofty goals were not so far from the misguided endeavors of our animated friend. And you have to ask yourself, where were Florida’s voices of reason in all of this?

It’s no mystery that the hydrology of the state is completely off-kilter. In fact, the state of Florida is now spending hundreds of millions of dollars to right the wrongs of unabashed development along vital wetlands. A complex mosaic of private and public lands lead from the headwaters of Lake Okechobee down to the southern tip of Florida through what was once called “the river of grass.” These little puzzle pieces are more than just parcels of land and obstructions to water flow; they represent interest groups that run the gamut from Native American tribes, to farmers, to generations of families. Difficult doesn’t even begin to describe the immensity of the challenges that the state faces to restore the Everglades. Little by little, however, South Florida Water Management District (SFWMD) is starting to tackle the problem of inadequate freshwater flow into the historic watershed.

To break it down as simply as I can, freshwater was diverted away from South Florida in order to drain what would become fertile land for agriculture. This water would then go either to the cities or out to the ocean. Losing a significant amount of freshwater would then allow saltwater to creep in and destroy habitat for wading birds, fish, and plant life along the coast. Our studies with National Audubon are to prove this shift and thus shape policy to get more freshwater back into the system. More freshwater means more aquatic vegetation, which means more fish, which then means more birds.

Map courtesy of SFWMD shows the C-111 canal and its proximity to Taylor Slough.

The green area represents Everglades National Park.

One of the major canals that we are concerned with is called the Aerojet Canal, aka the C-111. In the 60s Aerojet dug the C-111 in order to ship massive space shuttle engines (21ft in diameter, too large for trains) out to Biscayne Bay and then up to Canaveral. Just before it could start manufacturing the engines, however, NASA pulled the contract and went with a smaller, less expensive engine, leaving South Florida with this canal. The C-111 is important for Everglades restoration because it draws a significant amount of freshwater from the ground and diverts it away from its historical path along Taylor Slough.

Last week, Tavernier Science Center was invited to go out to the C-111 spreader canal project site to see what three years of planning, 25 million dollars, and our research was going towards.

Workers spread concrete in 50ft sections along the C-111 spreader canal project.

SFWMD exploded a hole in the limestone bedrock to build this pump station. They have to drain the

water in four foot increments then patch the leaks until they get down to the 11-foot thick concrete base

which they poured while completely underwater.

Project manager Sam Palermo, gave us a tour of the site and explained how the spreader canal project would redirect water from the C-111 and spill over into Taylor Slough. Two pumps bring water (100,000 gallons per minute) from the C-111 down the lined channels into the retaining cells instead of rushing out to the ocean. SFWMD would then backfill the remaining C-111 canal in order to stop it from draining surrounding lands. The idea seems simple enough, although water management in Florida has never been an easy task. Sam, with years of experience improving the headwaters of Lake Okechobee, states that it's taken a long time to get the project through legislation so they've had ample time to work out the kinks.

A map of the Areojet waterway and pump station shows the beginning of the second phase of construction.

We are all very excited and optimistic to start noting the hydrological changes once this project is completed in July of 2011. If this program succeeds, it just might be the impetus to trigger more large-scale projects farther north. I am amazed at how much money and time it costs to undo the ill-conceived plans of Florida’s corporate expansion, but hopeful, because at least we are spending the time and money.

Sunday Sunset

2010-08-29T23:38:00.002-04:00

Sunset from Islamorada over the Florida Bay

As hurricane Earl pulses northbound along the Greater Antilles, the Florida Keys receives warning signs that storm season has begun. Albeit later than usual, temperatures are holding at a balmy 95 degrees providing ample heat to turn a tropical storm into a hurricane. In the meantime, from a safe distance, I'll look out my windows at the sunset, metal shutters packed away, enjoying how the sinister cumulus mountains turn into harmless tufts of cotton candy.