If not for the fact I was completely covered and sealed off from the insect-infested air, I would never have been here in a million years. With the incessant buzzing of mosquitos in the pitch dark, thoughts go wild with the horrifying prospect of being exposed to thousands of ruthless biting insects. It was an hour before sunrise as my friend Bob and I carried our canoes and camera equipment to the water’s edge in silence and with focused determination of paddling to a location as quickly as possible.
The car headlights exposed the air that was alive with
mosquitos, reminding me of the old saying “You can swing a cup through the air and
catch a quart”. The sound alone could be maddening, but we were safe within our
netted and heavy fabric armor, and in command of our purpose which was to
photograph a rare scene in the Everglades. That opportunity was made possible
only because Bob was in the right place at the right time a day earlier and
then generously shared that with me.
On the water with barely enough light to make out the
mangroves that hung ghostly over the water, we paddled in earnest along a canal
that within a mile opened into a large body of water. Another mile of paddling
in open water led us to a small opening in the thick mangrove forest. By then,
the sunlight was enough for us to distinguish details of the mangroves and
navigate the small water trail that eventually led us to a very large lake.
When Bob first spotted the brilliant orange birds from a distance the day before, he thought it was a raft of brightly colored kayaks resting on the edge of the lake. But that would have been impossible because the park has kept the lake closed to the public for years. The watery trails became impassable from hurricane tree debris and overgrowth. If not for a handful of volunteers (including Bob) who had been clearing them over the past several months, I would not be here to photograph the American Flamingo on this hot summer day.
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We paddled out of the dark tunnel of mangroves into open
water brightly lit by the morning sun. Bob pointed east to the shoreline where
he saw the birds yesterday. I looked toward the sun where the shoreline would not
meet the sunlight until afternoon. The birds were not there. Although
disappointed not to see them as expected, I kept my hopes up that we might find
the birds where I could face them with the sun behind me.
The temperature rose as we continued paddling.
Still early enough to capture the birds in good light, I scanned the lake’s
shoreline looking for orange anomalies. I faced the western shoreline where it abruptly
turned northward and then eventually turned again in a southerly direction
creating a large inlet. A few more paddle strokes and the inlet came into full
view where 16 Flamingos were standing in the shallow water along the western
edge of the inlet.
In perfect light, the bright orange feathers stood out
flamboyantly against the dark mangroves and the muddy ground where they stood.
They seemed mostly occupied with feeding and did not appear to take great
notice of the two strangers in boats several hundred feet away. I slowly and
quietly paddled until I was directly east of the birds. Then I turned the boat
toward them and continued forward slowly, taking care to keep the single blade
paddle as low as possible.
I watched the birds intently, studying their movements to
see if my presence alerted them. They continued minding their own business, but
this could change as I floated closer to them. At last, I reached a distance
that would fill the frame with birds at a 600mm focal length, and the flock did
not seem to care.
Quietly and slowly, I placed a stick-it pin in the calm
water to keep the canoe in place. Before reaching this point, I had taken out
the camera from the pelican case and set it on my lap. Now, it was simply a
matter of being as quiet and as still as possible. Except for possibly having
to replace the camera battery, no movement or sound from me was necessary
except to click the shutter button.
Knowing I would be completely covered with mosquito netting,
I put on the Camelback with the hydration tube near my mouth before donning the
mosquito jacket. This allowed me to drink at will while holding the camera. At
the start of our paddle, the Camelback bladder was filled with frozen Gatorade
but by the time I reached the birds, most of it had melted. Content that I had
plenty to keep me hydrated and full protection from the persistent mosquitoes,
I commenced to sit and photograph the American Flamingo for the next couple
hours.
I had never seen flamingos in the wild and their size was
stunning and at best guess, the tallest birds stood close to 5 feet tall. These
flamingos are likely refugees from captivity or migrants from the Bahamas or
the Yucatan Peninsula. They are rarely sited in Florida, but most recently
along Florida’s Space Coast. The fact that they somehow got to a backcountry lake
accessible to humans only by paddle boat, made this photo shoot ever more
special to me. As I focused on the birds, I barely noticed Bob who floated a
distance from me, photographing and taking care not to disturb the flock.
After a couple hours, I put my camera away, and Bob and I
parted ways. When I got back to my car, it was close to noon and the mosquitoes
were as thick as ever. I drove away with a big grin on my face under a head net
protecting me from the swarm inside the car. Even while driving with all the
windows down, they wouldn’t go away. I didn’t care. I had a memory card full of
images of American Flamingos.
Thank you again Bob.
