iPed Shuffle – The Southern Stingray

Originally published on Audubon Guides on July 30th, 2012

From May through October, anyone heading into Florida’s coastal waters is encouraged to do the “stingray shuffle”. This Frankenstein’s monster-like gait stirs the underwater sediments and frightens the bottom dwelling rays into taking off. No doubt this aquatic march is a Sand Dollar’s (Echinarachnius parma) worst nightmare.

The Southern Stingray (Dasyatis americana) is the most common ray found along Florida’s coast. Its range extends from New Jersey south through the Gulf of Mexico and down the Atlantic coast to Brazil. This relatively flat-bodied, cartilaginous fish is related to sharks, whom happen to be one of their main predators. Despite their venomous bite and stinging barb, the stingray is non-aggressive, but those that don’t heed the “shuffle” warnings run the risk of stepping on one when they enter the water. Stingrays will burrow into the sand to rest and if stepped upon will involuntarily slap their four inch barbed tail up at the offender.

Southern Stingray © Graeme Teague

Less than two thousand incidences occur each year in the United States and most of them are minor injuries around the feet and ankles. The knife-like barb is serrated on both edges and terminates at a venom gland at the base which is equipped with a serious nerve toxin. Rarely is the injury serious or fatal and can be treated initially by immersion in hot water which breaks down the proteins in the venom and eliminates the pain. Further treatment is suggested.

If anyone should feel threatened it’s the clams, oysters, mussels, tube worms, coquinas, sand fleas, sand dollars, shrimp and even octopus that the stingrays feed on. The bat-like fish will flap its wings to uncover critters in the sand or blow water over the sand to achieve a similar effect. It even possesses an acute sensory system that detects its prey’s electrical field but most commonly uses its sense of smell.

What is harder to detect is a foot descending from the world above the waves. If you’re heading to the beach in stingray territory, make sure you shuffle; you never know what will surprise you.

Things that bite in the Night - the Fire Ant

“Coffee” is usually the first thought that I have upon waking. On this particular day I awoke, panicked, thinking “I need to get my wedding ring off my finger now”. I didn't know why but the band was cutting off circulation to my finger which had swollen to a light shade of grape. The ring itself looked like a hula hoop on a hippo. Butter, Vaseline, WD-40, there was no way I was squeezing out of it.

I found a red bump at the knuckle. It itched so my assumption was I had been bitten. I treated it with “after bite”. I put my hand in ice. I kept it elevated. I tried Benedryl. Nothing was working. The finger was turning a deeper shade of purple and aching like a thumb hit by a hammer. By 10 pm it was time to go to the ER.

In the ER the red bump had grown into a white-capped pustule and the doctor quickly identified what I should have guessed already. As I slept I was bitten by a single Red Imported Fire Ant (Solenopsis invicta). Fire Ants are native to South America but can be found throughout the southern U.S. Back in the 30’s they were inadvertently introduced by a cargo ship docked in Alabama.

They are mound builders that can establish multiple satellite colonies of hundreds of thousands of ants. They inject painful venom to both defend the colony and take down potential prey. In Florida, these ants stand accused of causing the population decline of the Southern Hognose Snake (Heterodon simus) and the Florida Kingsnake (Lampropeltis getula floridanus) by consuming incubating eggs.

A White-tailed Deer (Odocoileus virginianus) fawn will freeze in place at the sight, sound or smell of danger. If they happen to do so in or around a Fire Ant mound, the ants will begin climbing up the animal and then bite in unison. The bites are not only painful but the itching and swelling can last for four days or more. This of course happens to people as well. Some experience anaphylaxis.

In the ER I was given a choice. Leave the wedding ring unscathed and hope the swelling subsides or cut the ring off to alleviate the pressure and save my finger.

“Cut it off! The ring not the finger”

They did. The swelling subsided and wife insisted I get the ring fixed immediately. 

Muck-About

Every Labor Day weekend, photographer Clyde Butcher invites several hundred people to his home and offers walks around his backyard. He lives in the Everglades, and his yard is under water. The walks are called "Muck-Abouts" and you must sign a waiver. I saw the words alligator, snakes, dehydration, lightning. I didn't read it but I'm sure it was exciting.Clyde is the eyes of the Everglades. Some call him (myself included), the Ansel Adams of our generation. If you've ever seen his photography, which is black and white and painstakingly shot with old school equipment you'll get a sense of the grandeur and nuance of the sawgrass prairies and cypress forests that make up the 'glades. MaLe and I were slated for the 9:30 am photographer's walk which would lead us through the knee-high muck of the cypress sloughs where bromiliads (a type of epiphyte or airplant) cling to tree trunks.
A few thunder grumbles from the advancing Hurricane Gustave made us a bit nervous, but it was relatively cool morning and a nice day to tromp through the swamp. Nowhere near as exciting as a hike through the Fakahatchee Strand State Park with Mike - but it was fun to get MaLe to shake her fears and get into the water.

Sweet Mother Gator

So startled was I when the mother gator hissed and lunged that I tripped over my own feet and nearly plunged into the water with the mother gator while - yes - trying to run away.

I knew mama gator was around. She's in the same spot nearly everyday, protecting the nest of eggs under the dock. But alligators can make some incredibly loud noises and this 9 foot mama is no exception. Nesting started at the end of June and it takes 63 days or so to incubate so mama will stay put, driving away raccoons, possum, snakes and birds that will try to eat the eggs. She has to be wary of any males that may wander through and eat the babies after they hatch.
The dock that she nests under is taped off to keep tourists out. I was on the dock taking a picture of a grasshopper near the nest when mama let me know I was too close.
For the best results - turn the volume up before playing the video. This was her second attempt to drive me away after my heart rate had settled.

Andean Nightmare - The Horseback Slip n' Slide

The sun will set. Night will fall, the rain will continue and we will be stuck on a remote Andean mountain at 8500 feet above sea level, with no food or shelter or ability to change out of soaking wet clothes. We may be in Ecuador, but hypothermia is a serious threat and our horses, usually sure of foot are just as nervous as we are on the cliff edge.

(CLICK ON ANY PHOTO TO ENLARGE)

In the itinerary that Ma-Le prepared, our excursion for this day was a hike into the hills of Vilcabama, Ecuador culminating in a climb into the jungle canopy where we would experience our first zip line. Excited - I paid no attention to any other details of this day - fixating on what I expected to be the highlight of my trip - zipping through the jungle - 50 feet above the ground.

When our host, Charlie of Cabinas Yambala offered me the reins to his personal horse "Speedy" I realized that I should have asked earlier for the detailed plans of our day. Apparently to get to the zip line way up in the cloud forest, we'd have to travel on horseback from 5000 to 8500 feet above sea level, carefully navigating the cliffs and fording the rivers along the way. Three hours by horse - then 1 hour of hiking - then the zip line.

Speedy knew the way, so I would lead the procession of Ma-Le, our guide Jorge and two other travelers, Nate from D.C. and his girlfriend Brenda from Mexico. We left at 9 am and within less than 20 minutes we were riding a ridge line into the mountains with Mandango in the background. A well-horned cow ambled along in front of us with little room to move from side to side.

For the duration of the three hours up we were literally on edge.

The horses do all the work, laboring all the way, stopping to lick their own sweat from their sides or to eat the grass along the trail. It was cute at first, but the more you tolerate, the more they take advantage. "Vamos!" or "Let's Go!" began routinely echoing through the valley as we all encouraged our horses along.

Dry scrub gives way to cloud forest and as we pushed up higher and higher, gorgeous pink mountain azaleas, aloe plants and giant tree ferns decorated the scenery. I've never seen a landscape like this before - It looks like a wet, painted desert.

After 3 hours of gently kicking our horses up the mountain, a plateau came into view and my horse began galloping along the cliff edge - novel at first, but when I couldn't remember the Spanish word for slow or stop I yelled "he's going faster!" to which the bilingual horse responded by going faster! We had arrived at the camp - where we had lunch before trekking on foot.

After nearly an hour on foot we descended into the valley where the high altitude vegetation gave way to more typical tropical jungle. It was raining higher in the mountains and the streams had begun to rise as we came upon them. We crossed to the zip line by log - an easy task here before the rains had started. The return trip was more treacherous.

After 4+ hours trekking into the mountains, we arrived at the zip line - to which I said "where's the rest of it?". No really. This is it? The zip line consisted of 2 spans, the first being roughly 50 feet long (as seen above). Once you've zipped down this section, you walk across a rickety rope bridge (with safety harness attached), harness into the 2nd zip line which is about 40 feet off the ground and zip back down. Ma-Le was terrified on the final leg and I must confess to being nervous.

You know something in Ecuador is dangerous when they provide safety precautions. I was underwhelmed, but the trek to get here was stunning and Speedy, my noble steed was a good conversationalist. He claimed to not like getting his feet muddy and would step around puddles on the way up. Bad news for the trip down.

As we unharnessed from the zip line, it began to rain. It was supposedly the dry season in this part of Ecuador and when we asked our guide how the horses do in the rain, walking down a cliff edge, he said he didn't know. He'd never had to do that before.

It drizzled as we hiked back to the horses. A beautiful scene, but if it kept up, the 3 hour horseback ride down would prove to be a nightmare. Jorge decided we should walk them down. Looking at my watch and doing quick math, it occurred to be that if it was 3 pm now and it took 3 hours to climb up and sundown is 6:20 pm, we would probably arrive back at camp in darkness.

To panic would serve no purpose. So we grabbed the reigns and began to head down with 1200 lb animals at our back. The trail is narrow from repeated use by horse and cow. There are no water bars so as the rain falls, it creates a constant cascade of water and horse poop on the trail. You can't imagine how slow an hour passes until you have trudged ankle deep in muck, listening for the sound of a horse sliding on rock and writing your own obituary to this crazy scene.

After an hour, everything on my body was soaked. The soles from Ma-Le's boots had completely come off and she was walking on her socks. And the Mexican woman's horse could have cared less that our time was short and slowed us down by grazing more often than walking. The horse not the woman.

Without good footwear - Ma-Le was forced to climb back on her horse, despite the danger of sliding off the cliff. We all decided to try this for a bit but 90 minutes in, Pamona, Nate's horse slipped on rock near the edge, tearing a chunk of flesh off it's leg and nearly sending Nate 1000 feet into the canyon.

How much further? 30 minutes Jorge says.

By the time we hit the three hour mark, I was continuing to ring water from my clothes. Rain jackets were useless and I would tell you how much water was coming off of me but at this point it was too dark to see. With Ma-Le still on her horse, I led mine through the narrow passages and barely escaped being crushed when Pamona slid into Speedy causing a horsealanche with me trapped and nowhere to go. Like a scene from a cartoon - Speedy stopped within an inch of my face, both legs spread to either side of the trail and Pamona nearly launching over Speedy.

How much further? 15 minutes Jorge says. Of course he said 30 minutes and hour ago.

By the time we reached the cabins, it was pitch black. No street lights, no house lights. The Yambala River was swollen and raging and we were exhausted, soaking wet and covered in mud. We got cleaned up, enjoyed a fantastic four course Ecuadorian meal by a toasty fire and were asleep by 9 pm, lulled into dream by the roar of the river.

at 1 am, the rising river caused a whole new nightmare......

too be continued!