Everglades: America's Wetland Pre-Order

The time has finally come. Five years in the making, I'm proud to start the unveiling of my book, Everglades: America's Wetland. Published by University Press of Florida, this large format coffee table book contains 304 pages with over 240 images. I've had a hard time keeping these photographs under the covers, but I'm glad I waited. Along with some of my best unpublished (until now) work, the book has 15 essays from some of the top minds in Everglades conservation.

Before the book reaches it publishing date, I wanted to offer a pre-order opportunity for those of you who want signed copies and a discounted rate. I'll also be discounting a series of fine art prints to accompany the book. The book's website is www.EVERGLADESBOOK.com

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE AND RESERVE YOUR COPY  

 

Night Moves - Photographing the Blue Hour

Venus and the Milky Way shine bright over the pine uplands in Everglades National Park.
Titled "Into the Dream" - Photo © Mac Stone

Lately, I've been enjoying spending longer hours outdoors, shooting well after dusk and painfully many hours before sunrise. The cool tones of a cold night under skies peppered with millions of celestial bodies brings us into a world that is today too commonly choked out by unfeeling fluorescence. Photographing these nightscapes has doubled the size of my artistic palette while also incentivizing me to strive for multi-day trips.

By packing up our cameras after sunset, we're missing out on the most magical hours to be outside. When I was growing up, the main course of swimming and paddling was only made sweeter by the dessert of campfires, stars, and rumbling thunderstorms. At the edge of night I feel alive, and in some places chewed alive by mosquitoes. But no matter what the case, it's always worth clicking a few more frames.

In the Everglades, the difference between late afternoon and early evening can change the tone, mood, and structure of an image entirely. Photo © Mac Stone

For this image, I kept my shutter open for 30 seconds and shot at f/3.5 ISO 1250. Photo © Mac Stone

This image was really tricky to make. I was photographing this composition in Everglades National Park just as the storm was splitting apart, meaning that there were probably only a few more good strikes left to capture. I knew I wanted the reflection in the water to complete the image, but if I kept my shutter open for too long then the image would blow out once the streaks of lightning came. So, to account for this, I dramatically underexposed and consecutively took 30-second images at f/8 ISO 2500, essentially exposing for the lightning which I had to guess would be 4 stops brighter than mid tone. It took about 8 frames of total black before this powerful strike made the image, exposing perfectly. Sometime you get lucky, I guess. Photo © Mac Stone

Great egrets roost along pond cypress in Everglades National Park. Photo © Mac Stone

Camping on East Cape in Everglades National Park at the fringe of a storm. Photo © Mac Stone

A full moon lights up a cypress tree in North Central Florida just before dawn. Photo © Mac Stone

Of course things are always harder at night. While leaving Everglades National Park after shooting "Into the Dream" a rear tire blew on a loaner car. Still, not missing a beat I changed the tire and managed to make some lemonade out of this lemon of a situation. Lesson: there's always an image to make. Photo © Mac Stone

Swimming with Alligators... again

I'm haunted by photo shoots that could have been a little bit better if the light was brighter, the conditions different, or subjects more cooperative. I think this is the case with any artist. We are simply never satisfied. Maybe it should have been different after I climbed out of the alligator pool with Chris Gillette and Ashley Lawrence still owning all of my digits, but I knew there were better images to be made.

So, I went back for round two. This time, the water was warmer and gin clear; and a fresh crop of alligators inhabited the pool. I still used the same rig to shoot Chris handling the alligators but without the backscatter of debris and a better understanding of what I was going for, it went without a hitch.

Here are the results. These were all shot with an Aquatica housing, 15mm Sigma fisheye, and two Sea and Sea strobes while on SCUBA.

Swimming with Alligators

Ok, before you start trying to nominate me for the Darwin Awards, read the post.

Meet Chris Gillette. Chris is a professional gator wrestler living in Homestead, Florida. He performs weekly shows at Everglades Outpost Wildlife Rescue and the Everglades Alligator Farm to teach the public about crocodilian behavior and what to do should you ever find yourself in a situation like the one pictured above. You might recognize him from the television show Gator Boys, but I met Chris through our small circle of South Florida adventurers, and after seeing images of him handling alligators the gears started turning on how I might be able to meet him in his element and make a few images of my own. I just bought an underwater housing so it seemed like a perfect way to break in the new equipment. I envisioned a relatively tame shoot where he handled what he called his "big puppy dogs" and my end goal was to create a series of images that showed a more docile side to these feared reptiles. Of course, things don't always play out as you plan them. 

The bad news broke early as Chris let me know that his favorite alligator had recently passed away and instead, we would be working with freshly caught, aggressive nuisance alligators from Big Cypress National Preserve. Great. The good news, however, is that the water was cold, very cold, so they would likely be disinclined to act out. Luckily I brought my wet suit. His girlfriend, Ashley Lawrence who also handles alligators, was there to help spot and make sure nothing went wrong. Admittedly, I was feeling pretty cavalier, because here I had two of the most qualified handlers watching my back and making sure the shoot went smoothly. Plus, I had seen them in similar situations plenty of times so I was hungry to get in the water and start making images. Chris quickly put me in check, saying that I should be nervous and that it was a little unhealthy not to be. It could have been the water temperature, but as soon as I submerged and entered their world, I looked head-on at a 9-foot alligator and peed my wetsuit.

Gator belly - Homestead, FL - Photo © Mac Stone

Before we got in the water, though, Chris told me what to expect. Since these gators hadn't been handled before they would be unpredictable and would likely resist being grabbed or approached. In the event that a gator charged me, he cautioned that I sit perfectly still and just act like a rock. I'll be the first to say that it's one thing to envision yourself in that situation, and something altogether different to actually perform. I was on SCUBA so I didn't have to worry about continually coming to the surface for air. I sat on the bottom, like a rock, just as Chris suggested. But when he reached for the first gator and it wiggled free, it made a bee-line straight for me. I braced for impact and the gator's snout slammed into my shoulder and kept swimming, as if I weren't even there. I looked up and Chris was treading water, smiling, with two thumbs up.  

I've grown up with gators and have had my fair share of close calls in the wild, but in this moment I was really proud of myself. Once I hurdled that obstacle, the rest of the shoot went smoothly. In fact, they were so comfortable with me, that one of the large gators even found a nice resting spot between my legs while I photographed another.  

It was one of the most invigorating shoots I've done and it gave me a new appreciation for the work that Chris, Ashley, Everglades Outpost and the Everglades Alligator Farm do for the public. Normally, these nuisance alligators would be euthanized. These businesses give the gators a second chance and in turn help reeducate the masses that our reptilian neighbors are not blood-thirsty man-eaters. They are the freshwater equivalent to sharks: misunderstood and in need of some good PR.

Get Low

"Edge of the World" - Florida Bay - Everglades National Park

It's easy to get stuck in a rut with photography. After your 500,000th image, it might feel like you've done it all before. Luckily though, it's often just as easy to break out and explore new possibilities by simply changing your perspective. I get inspiration from other photographers all the time. In fact, it's part of my daily routine to research other artists and see what they're doing. One photographer in particular, John Spohrer, based out of Apalachicola, Florida would create these arrestingly dramatic images by shooting a low angle on water. Simple, right?  This isn't necessarily an Einstein moment but this technique is often overlooked by photographers. When applied in the right situations, it can completely alter the depth and feel of your images.

Take this scene for example. To me, this is a standard one-dimensional view of a summer squall in Florida Bay. You have some water, you have some storm clouds, all of which seem to appear on the same visual plane. While this image might be good for an advertisement or calendar, to me, I'm not moved to feel anything when I look at it. 

Holding my camera just above the water's edge over the boat with a wide angle lens (Canon 16-35mm) and employing fast shutter speeds by means of high ISO I made a series of images without looking through the viewfinder. Only an inch above the water, this proved a little dangerous as a rogue wave lapped the base of my camera. Not good. Still, I was able to make a few frames from this new perspective. What resulted was this very multi-dimensional image which gives a turbulent and almost apocalyptic aura. The way the water eliminates the horizon creates a sense of impending doom, like Columbus must have imagined when sailing towards the edge of the Earth. All I had to do was hold my camera close to the water. 

Here are a few more dualities so you can see the benefit of simply changing your perspective. To me, the lower angles just have a way of filling the space more efficiently. Take note how your eyes want to linger a little more. Who knows though, maybe you'll like the standard images better. I'm curious to hear what you think. 

With the low angle, you get much more action and interesting patterns in the water from reflected light. This way, the water doesn't just become empty space, but instead helps define and draw your eye into the subject.  

Arthur Marshall Foundation: It's My Everglades

It's My Everglades Video - Arthur R Marshall Foundation

Two months ago I was invited to join a canoe expedition sponsored by the Arthur R. Marshall Foundation. It was my job to document their third consecutive year of traveling the historic River of Grass. The leg of the trip that I joined was from Sawgrass Recreation Park down to the Tamiami Trail, about 76 miles.

Two years ago the expedition started at the Arthur R. Marshall Loxahatchee Wildlife Refuge and planned to follow the water all the way down to Florida Bay, in order to raise awareness of South Florida's need for clean, free-flowing water. Today the expedition has become a massive effort to involve the public, especially children, with Everglades restoration. Embracing the new technologies, we would set up live from-the-field video classrooms using iPads with elementary schools all over south Florida and describe to the students what we saw and experienced while on the water.

I love multi-day expeditions and I jumped at the offer. I made sure to pack as light as possible, even though my camera gear alone weighed 60 pounds. In order to compensate I left all articles of what I deemed "unnecessary" at home only to learn that I would be the only one without a pillow, sleeping pad, or camp chair. Bummer. Fortunately though, I had no problem sleeping after the gourmet meals, provided by the phenomenal cook Gisa Wagner. I'm pretty confident this was the only time I've had lamb stew and fresh broccolini marinara pasta, of course with grated parmesan cheese. This is my style of camping!

On the last night we wanted a group camp photo, so we lit up the tents during a 30 second exposure while people 
walked around the campsite with headlamps ablaze. 

On the last day of our trip we pulled into the Tamiami Trail boat ramp. Only a few hours later, the Florida Wildlife Corridor Expedition team, Carlton Ward Jr, Joe Gutherie, and Elam Stolzfus rolled in exhausted from the last grueling 5 days of their journey from Florida Bay. When I saw their faces, I felt horribly guilty of those delicious calories I had marinating in my stomach. Well, sort of.

  Carlton Ward Jr portages his kayak over Tamiami Trail

I hope you enjoyed the video. I must say thank you to the Arthur Marshall Foundation and the talented and brilliant paddlers I met while on the trip. I can't wait until next year.  Also a special thank you to Susan Sylvester, who is entirely to credit for any footage I got while on the water. I promise I'll try to rig up a system where I can shoot and paddle at the same time for our next trip!  

Lost and Found

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.

At a Loss

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.