This trip was inspired by a most excellent book, The Swamp by Michael Grunwald (no relation).
It's an extremely well-written, well-researched political history
of the “It teemed with leeches, lizards, and
other ugly, slimy creatures . . . . It is in fact a most hideous region to
live in, a perfect paradise for . . . alligators, serpents, frogs and every other
kind of loathsome reptile.” Jacob Mott, 1836-38 “Journey Into
Wilderness” Sounds like home to me. In fact, reading the book made me very nostalgic. Growing up in Driving west on the Tamiami Trail we enter the
Footnote: The
following year we found one of our own.
Deeper into the swamp we decide to go off-road. The warm water oozes into my boots as they
sink in the muck, and smiling, I recall the familiar sensation of close
contact with the Glades.
As we slog through the slippery marl, countless
frogs keep springing out of our way.
Following no particular trail, we cut across the sawgrass prairie
towards a stand of cypress trees in the distance.
Wherever a depression in the limestone bedrock creates a shallow pond,
water-loving cypresses take root in the peat that accumulates at the
bottom. When the trees shed their
leaves in winter¾earning the name Bald Cypress¾the
decaying foliage forms a mild acid that further dissolves the limestone and
enlarges the depression. The trees
grow tallest in the middle, where the most amount of organic matter settles
in the deepest part of the pond, and their height decreases towards the
outside, where less peat accumulates along the shallow edges. This gives the formation, called a cypress
head, its distinctive dome-like appearance.
We slip past the smaller, crowded trees of the periphery and wade into the shadowy stillness of the interior, surrounded by fluted columns of silver-grey bark and epiphytes. Everything is hushed, like entering a sanctuary.
For me, the quiet center of a cypress head has always been a subtle world of muted colors and intimate observations. Stare long enough and the eye is rewarded with minute revelations, such as this tree frog (left) blending grey with the cypress bark instead of its usual green color (compare to the normal phase at right).
Of course, that’s not to say these hideaways lack for charismatic megafauna. Move to the center of a large cypress strand, where the trees open up and encircle a deepwater pond, and there’s a good chance you’ll encounter the Swamp’s most famous residents.
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