Communing With the Manatees - December 10, 2010



Manatees in Blue Springs

I have lived in Florida my entire life, but I have never seen manatees in the wild - until today. What a spectacular day this is!!

Blue Springs

This morning finds me, Lenora, and Gwen bundled against the chill, mugs of coffee in hand, heading south on Hwy 441, then east on Hwy 40 - through the Ocala National Forest - before turning south again on Hwy 17 and landing at Blue Springs State Park just outside Orange City.  Total trip time is about two hours from Gainesville.  I’ve never before been to Blue Springs State Park, had no idea this gem was hidden south of Deland.  As we follow the brown directional signs to the park, our last view of civilization is an older Orange City subdivision, then Voila!, we find ourselves in this not-so-secret wilderness.  I am transported to another time.



Blue Springs is the largest spring on the St. Johns River.  The St. Johns is the longest river that is contained entirely within the State of Florida, flowing 310 miles from its headwaters, a large marshy area in Indian River County, until it joins the Atlantic Ocean at Mayport, just north of Jacksonville.  It is one of the few rivers in the world that flows north. Blue Springs and neighboring Hontoon Island State Park encompass miles of the St. Johns that have been designated an aquatic preserve. The preserve consists of diverse plant communities such as freshwater marsh, cypress swamp, mixed hardwood swamp and hardwood hammock.


Tree Hugger!

Lenora, Gwen and I decide that our first task is reconnaissance, to learn the lay of the land. We discover that a boardwalk parallels the spring run, from its opening into the St. Johns River up and around to the slit cave entrance of the underground springs. Gnarly old oaks dripping with moss line the banks of the spring run, punctuated by palm trees and palmetto bushes. South of the springs is a canoe and kayak landing on the St. Johns. South of the landing and across the river are miles and miles of marsh, swamp, and hammock. This is original, old Florida at its finest.

Blue Springs

The land around Blue Springs has a storied history, initially serving as the home of Timucuan Indians, then becoming a steamboat landing, before turning into a crowded fish camp. An enormous mound of snail shells can be found at the east end of the spring run, remainders - and reminders - of the Timucuan, for whom snails were a diet staple. The green-tinged water in the spring run is crystal clear and stays a constant 72 degrees. Approximately 100 million gallons of water flow out of the spring each day!

Water temperature is what makes Blue Springs so special. When water temperature in the St. Johns River drops below 68 degrees, West Indian Manatees, who live in the St. Johns River year round, migrate to Blue Springs where they remain for the winter. Jacques Cousteau filmed his documentary The Forgotten Mermaids at Blue Springs in 1971. The film brought international attention to the plight of manatees and influenced the State of Florida to purchase Blue Springs. It became a state park and is now a designated manatee refuge. In the winter the spring run itself is closed to swimmers, divers, and boaters, though the St. Johns River remains open to these activities.

 

As we wander the boardwalk that parallels the spring run, I am astonished at what I see - literally hundreds of manatee resting in the spring waters or moving slowly toward the mouth and into the St. Johns. Accompanying the manatees are hundreds of fish, including funky-looking gar as well as various species of catfish, bluegill, and other fish I cannot identify. Cormorants supervise all this activity from their perches on twisted tree trunks that arch out over the water.

Rangers tell us that they count the manatee each morning, before the water warms up and the manatee begin their slow move into the St. Johns, where they spend the day dining on grasses and other aquatic plants that line the river. Last week the count reached its peak for the season thus far, more than 300 manatee crowded into the spring run. As temperatures drop it is expected that more will join their large brethren.

Andrew, Gwen, and Lenora

Bald Eagle

Satisfied with our reconnaissance, Gwen, Lenora and I head over to the canoe and kayak kiosk operated by St. Johns River Cruises. Our plan for the day is to spend several hours in kayaks on the St. Johns and intersecting waters, communing with the manatee and enjoying the wild. We are waited on by Andrew, a delightful young man with a tremendous knowledge of the land and its wildlife, as well as a great sense of humor. Andrew outfits us with life vests, paddles, maps, and emergency whistles, then turns us loose in 3 brilliantly-colored, sit-on-top kayaks. He tells us that manatee are attracted to the mango-colored boats. Gwen smiles.  That one’s hers! As he pushes us out into the river, Andrew points out a bald eagle perched high in an ancient tree across the river. I smile, too. It know it is going to be a good day!  



Welcoming Committee

While Lenora and Gwen head to the mouth of Blue Springs, I paddle across the river to get a better view of the eagle. I am unable to see the eagle very well, but I do paddle close to what appears to be the local welcoming committee, several trees full of American black vultures, all hunched, keeping watch over the river. I think it’s funny how vultures have such a bad reputation. When you think about it, eagles, falcons, hawks and owls are all birds of prey, meat-eaters, but vultures have a rep because the meat they eat is almost always dead. Yet if you think about it, the California condor, crows and ravens also eat carrion. Indeed, bald and golden eagles will eat dead and rotting carcasses if they are available, too. But the vulture is the bird which is butt of all jokes. Anyway, these guys appear harmless . . . except they seem to be fighting among themselves. At times they sound like cats hissing. Then there is squawking and flutters as one backs down another, and repositioning takes place. I talk softly to them, take some photographs, then drift on.

Lenora & Gwen, St. Johns River

Bank of the St. Johns River
Red Maple aflame

Lenora and Gwen soon join me, and we slowly paddle south along the western edge of the St. Johns River. The river is lined with bald cypress, oak, red maple, palm and pine trees. Moss hangs in thick strands from the trees. This is Florida, so the foliage is just now changing colors, and the red maple are brilliant in coloration. Aquatic plants at the edge of the river include thick mats of pennywort, thinner groupings of cow lilies, and some grasses I cannot identify. Except for bird calls, all is quiet. Though staying in the same general area, Lenora, Gwen and I soon paddle and drift off by ourselves, sometimes coming together to talk about what we see, sometimes exploring alone.

Great Egret in the pennywort

Though I don’t see them, I hear owls calling across the east side of the river. I am captivated by both the manatee and the numerous, colorful birds, and I alternate my attention between the two. I paddle close to a great egret and sit watching that snowy-white bird seize small fish from the water with its bright yellow beak. I am fascinated as I watch the egret’s long neck, stretching and gyrating as it swallows the fish. I am aware that manatee abound, though I do not find it easy to see them in the tannin-stained water of the river. Instead I see ghostly shadows silently gliding past, and I watch their trails in the water.

Little Blue heron

Woodpeckers cry out periodically; heron and cranes shriek as they leave their perches to fly across the river. We paddle into the Smith Canal, which flows into the St. Johns from the southwest. Here we settle in at the edge of the pennywort, watching as numerous manatees munch on the plants and grasses. Manatee are herbivores, consuming 10-15% of their body weight each day. I think to myself, that’s a lot of plant-life - as manatee, who average 8-12 feet in length, weigh about a ton on average! I also think, it’s good that manatee eat that much, as they are dining on numerous non-native aquatic plants that could choke off the river were it not for our hungry little . . . er, large . . . friends.

We are so close to the manatee that we could touch them if we wanted. Close to the riverbank they swim slowly under and around our kayaks, then crowd into the pennywort to dine. Sometimes all we can see are patches of grasses being jerked up and down from below. Sometimes we are aware of manatee presence only as we hear them surface to breathe, it sounding like whales blowing air from a blowhole. At other times the manatee stick their heads out of the water to grab particularly tasty morsels. I am close enough that I can see the whiskers on their chins.

Gwen & Lenora, St. Johns River

I have learned that manatee are very gentle creatures. They have muscular bodies, and though they are so very large, they have very little body fat, thus their need to eat constantly, also to seek refuge in the warm waters of the springs. These West Indian Manatees have wrinkled dark-gray skin. They have two forelimbs containing three to four toenails on each, as well as a large flat tail that they use to locomote. Manatee have no front teeth, only molars. Oh, and, an interesting bit of trivia, the closest relative to the manatee is the elephant! Manatee are nonaggressive, spending their time resting, slowly moving up and down the river, and eating. Their only natural enemy is man. We have done great damage to them with our powerboats that travel swiftly up and down the river, slicing up the manatee with propellers when they are unable to travel fast enough to escape. Indeed, many of the manatee here at Blue Springs have large white scars on their bodies, evidence of run-ins with boats.



Mom and Calf
Mom has a scar on her back

We paddle amid numerous mom and calf pairs. Manatee give birth only every two to five years, with nursing calves remaining with their moms about two years. This low birth rate together with numerous losses from boating and other accidents has led to low population numbers. At present there are only about 3,000 West Indian manatee alive. And I am presently paddling amidst about a tenth of them - Awesome!

Great Blue Heron

I paddle upriver, wanting to examine a large blue bird who is guarding a patch of pennywort. I ease into the growth, finally stopping within about four feet of the bird, who turns out to be a great blue heron. He is quite striking, with his slate blue body, deep blue-black patches on his head and breast, blue-gold beak, and long plumes of feathers hanging from his back and breast. I sit watching him for about twenty minutes. He knows I am here, though he never directly looks at me. Before he flies off, I move on, to leave him in peace. I rejoin Lenora and Gwen, and we move up and down the river, stopping for long minutes at a time to observe munching manatee, then paddling silently to another spot, to watch again. I am nowhere but here.


LIttle Blue Heron
astride a manatee

We pull into one patch of plants where the water is fairly shallow. These must be special grasses as about half a dozen manatee are so greedy for this food that they crowd up against the bank, backs several inches out of the water as they feed. We watch a funny little blue heron decide that the back of a manatee must be the perfect perch. He flies over, lands, then fishes from this stand until the manatee duo back up and submerge once again.

I could do this every day  . . .

All too soon we realize that it is 4:00; our kayaks must be back at the kiosk by 4:30. We slowly paddle back, past little blue heron and tree after tree full of vultures. Cormorants line the pipes which close off the entrance to the springs for boaters, spreading their wings to catch the sun. The eagle has moved on, but the water is full of the gentle giants. Amazingly, as we paddle closer to the entrance to the springs, I can feel the change in water temperature. It is most definitely warmer over here. Remaining on the water until the last possible moment, we finally sigh and beach our kayaks, thanking Andrew for the day. It has been marvelous. I am exceedingly relaxed. I could do this every day. I will be back!

Donna 

Local color amid local color on the St. Johns River