Death by Glochids (by CJ Moi)

Guest blogger CJ Moi is an enthusiastically ADD OCD writer, speaker, promo agent, educator and naturalist. Once a resident of central Vermont (where she worked with Jungle Pete), her home base is now Seattle. This post is an excerpt from her first ebook, Being Nomad, which releases on February 1. The book is the story of her epic inner and outer journey, car camping and couch surfing for nearly two years across America and beyond, eccentrically rendered in email conversations, blog posts, Facebook posts, and lyrical pieces of writing and poetry. It is available for pre-order until February 1 at the special price of $2.99 at Barnes and Noble and Apple iBooks. Visit Being Nomad at http://beingnomadthenovel.blogspot.com/

Darwin Award Nomination

In Tucson I got my first lesson about the consequences of carelessness. When undertaking a journey like this, when being nomad, one cannot afford to be even a little careless.

I felt that my visit to the southwest would not be complete without trying cactus pads, and being a long time forager in New England, I felt that it would be a total cop out to buy them in a store. So one day I set out for my walk in the desert with a mission to bag me a couple wild prickly pear pads. I captured a green and a red one, not without some wounds to show for it. By the time I got back to the house they had fairly shredded the plastic bag I had bagged them in. Not to be deterred, I got out a knife and tongs and set to work to pull their fangs.

I couldn't quite remember the cactus pad defanging instructions from the foraging books I'd read and I didn't stop to pay attention to what I was undertaking. If I'd taken time to Google it, I'd have recalled that the large canines are not the prickly pear's only defense, and that the best way to thoroughly neutralize the clumps of insidious small fuzzy glochids is by running the pad through a flame and burning them off. Instead, I attempted to cut them all off.

(Nearly a year later in California I finally got to try prickly pear fruits with the guidance of an experienced forager. Despite the hard little seeds throughout the sweet pulp, they are much better tasting than the pads. And their glochids are much easier to avoid!)

But as one begins to cut into a prickly pear pad, it starts oozing a viscous liquid which engulfs any loose glochids. By this time I was getting a bit frustrated with all this painstaking process just for a taste of cactus pad. I hacked off a couple pieces, ascertained that they were glochid-free and popped them in my mouth. The punch line here is that I ended up with a glochid stuck in the back of my throat, just far enough down that I couldn't reach it without a gag reflex and couldn't dislodge it by scraping anyway.

Now I did Google, to find that I had plenty of company in the embarrassing glochid ranks of Darwin Award Nominees. Most accounts said that I'd be fine, albeit with a resident glochid for anywhere from several days to several months - except for a few that recounted the deaths of individuals whose throat swelled up and constricted the air passage so they couldn't breathe. But after a somewhat uneasy night I woke up alive, breathing and with the annoying tickly pain gone - the glochid had apparently dissolved.

Some great forager I was. How could I have been so stupid? To add insult to injury, the damn cactus pad didn't even taste all that great. But already I was at least smart enough to see the lesson here. Pay attention. Think. You can't afford to be careless on the road.

Nonetheless there would be times when I was careless again. Every time was a reminder. Every time the lesson went a little deeper. Still, it sometimes feels like it's only by rather dubious acquiescence from the universe that I'm alive to write this book. 

Mission: Impossible – the Ground Beetles

Originally published on Audubon Guides on September 4th, 2012

My mother, a park ranger, once held out a cone from an unknown tree and asked a state forester if he knew which tree it came from. “Some kinda conifer”, he answered, as if that was sufficient. He wasn’t wrong. The cone did come from a coniferous tree, but the answer was as helpful as saying “food” when someone asks “what’s for dinner?”

My mother was hoping for the specific tree. Did the forester know the answer or not?  I hardly know anything and nature proves that to me daily with new mysteries. For example, why one morning was there a Ground Beetle hanging from a web-like snare from the bumper of my car? These are large, hefty beetles. Who caught it? And what type of beetle is it? I’ll give you a hint. You’re not going to find out because I don’t know.

Pasimachus Ground Beetle © Pete Corradino

I asked an insect nerd, I mean entomologist, which species it might be and considering there are over 425 different species of ground beetles, I was content to have it narrowed down to the Pasimachus, a genera with at least five indigenous species in Florida. From there he said it was impossible to tell with the photograph provided.

Most of the 40,000+ beetles in the world have hardened elytra that cover over and protect the wings. The Pasimachus ground beetles are flightless and the elytra are fused into a firm shell. They spend their time on the ground, in and under logs and leaf litter foraging for caterpillars, other larvae and other ground insects.

a mysterious situation © Pete Corradino

How this beetle came to be ensnared, flailing its limbs in the breeze like Ethan Hunt on a mission is beyond me. If it was trapped in a spider’s web, I wasn’t curious enough to look up under my car to find out which kind.

It would have been nice to offer you a genus and species name, but the beetle biologist took me as far as I could go. “Some kinda Pasimachus” would have to do. Sometimes identifying insects is a mission: impossible.

What Not To Lick – The Southern Toad

Originally published on Audubon Guides on October 8th, 2012

I had a dream about the game show Family Feud the other night. The one hosted by Richard Dawson, the guy that kissed all of the ladies.

He said “One hundred people surveyed, top five answers on the board. Here’s the question: name me something you lick.”

I couldn’t think. I panicked. Frozen flag poles. Lobsters. Newborns (no that’s what animals do). Toads!

“Show me Toads!”

XXX

Yeah that’s a bad idea. Toads in general have a powerful defense in the form of bufotoxin, a white venomous substance that is secreted through the “warts” on their skin. Licking the neurotoxin of a toad would be harmful and potentially fatal. In fact it’s illegal to produce drugs from toad venom in the U.S.  

Southern Toad © Pete Corradino

I had a dog when I was young that would routinely pick toads up in its mouth, quickly drop them and then froth at the mouth to eliminate the toxin. He often looked rabid. Did he learn? No and he repeated this behavior despite the negative reinforcement of the painful experience. Both the dog and toads survived nonetheless.

The Southern Toad (Anaxyrus terrestris) has bumpy skin with two large kidney-shaped parotoid glands behind the eyes. It is best not to handle toads and these bumps especially should be avoided. Southern Toads can reach lengths of over 3.5 inches, are slow hoppers and are found near water in sandy soiled areas. They’re also the ones hanging around your doorstep at night feeding on bugs. Keep the dog inside. During the day they dig a burrow to protect their moist skin from the long sunny days in the Southeastern United States.

In the spring, females will find a slow-flowing body of water and lay duel strands of thousands of gelatinous eggs that will hatch within 2-3 days. Once the tadpoles develop feet, thousands of them will disperse together on rainy nights, but their neurotoxin offers no defense for what awaits them on the roads.

You may have better ideas of what’s acceptable to lick. Just remember toads are not one of them. 

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.

Bite the Hand That Feeds You

Recently, an Everglades airboat captain lost his hand to an American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis) during a tour. Feeding, harassing or molesting alligators is punishable with a maximum fine of up to $500 and 60 days and jail. Losing your limbs or your life is an additional punishment for bad behavior.

In all of my years in the Everglades I have seen people do some dumb things around these giant reptiles. I watched a mother with a shovel in one hand and a bag of mystery meat in the other feed a wild alligator as her small children stood by and watched. The shovel she claimed was to hit the alligator over the head if it approached. I explained to her the first rule of alligator etiquette. Don’t do dumb things. I explained the law and she left (and probably to return another day).  

© Pete Corradino

I watched in horror as a European couple walked their child down to the edge of the water and backed away to take a picture. No doubt the picture of a small child with a six foot alligator just feet away might have impressed someone but I carefully approached and pantomimed the first rule. They didn’t speak English, but “don’t do dumb things” was easily articulated with two arms making a chomping motion.

I watched two teenage boy inexplicably chasing an eight foot alligator down the main road in the Everglades National Park. I stopped them and asked them what was going to happen when they caught up to the alligator. They had no clue. The alligator found an opening in the mangroves and slipped away.

© Pete Corradino

The law has a purpose. Alligators have a natural fear of humans. In fact there have been less than 600 wild alligator attacks in Florida since 1948 and only 23 of those were fatalities. Of those attacks, most were either alligators that were fed, alligators that were being handled (molesting) or occurred when someone was swimming in the water with them.

Once an alligator loses its fear of people it becomes a dangerous alligator. If you dangle a piece of chicken in front of an alligator, it’s going to bite the hand that feeds it. 

Squirrel on Fire

When I bought my house a few years ago, a realtor advised me that the location I was interested in was undesirable because it was overwhelmed with “vegetative fuel”. That’s a fancy euphemism for “trees” in the business. I found another realtor and bought a house surrounded by beautiful Slash Pines, Live Oaks and Saw Palmettos.

Over the last few weeks my town has been plagued by wildfires. With an exceptionally long dry season and little rain in the forecast, the vegetative fuel forest that has enveloped the neighborhood now seems foreboding. Despite the lack of any pattern, arson was suspected for each fire, making the situation all the more concerning.

© Pete Corradino

On April 17^th, a 5-acre brush fire broke out up the street, consuming one house and charring neighboring property. One burnt squirrel was discovered at the base of the power pole leading to the home and some began to blame the squirrel population for the outbreak of wildfires in the area.

Eastern Gray Squirrels (Sciurus carolinensis) are well known for their high wire acts. As nimble as they may be while crossing a line, if they touch a second line they can create a surge, electrocuting the animal and in this case, sending a flaming squirrel to the ground and starting a fire.

This isn’t the first time it has happened and it won’t be the last. Dry conditions continue in South Florida and hungry squirrels are on the move. I’m hoping for rain because we need it but I’m also concerned for the squirrels climbing around in the vegetative fuel in my back yard.  

The photograph of the Eastern Gray Squirrel was taken in the mangrove forest of Secret Woods County Park in Fort Lauderdale, FL – far from any power lines. 

Obituary for “The Senator”

3500 years before present to January 16^th, 2012

The beloved Pond Cypress (Taxodium ascendens), affectionately nicknamed “the Senator”, was born 3500 years ago in what is present day Longwood, Florida. The 125 foot tall, seventeen and a half foot diameter trunked, deciduous hardwood was considered the 5^th oldest tree in the world, the oldest Pond Cypress in the world and the oldest tree in the eastern United States.

The Senator, like other members of its species was well known for its thin, waxy, needles and a preference for growing in poorly drained natural depressions. Cousin of the Pond Cypress, the Bald Cypress (Taxodium distichum) is known for waxy, feathery needles and can be found in well nourished floodplains. Both have round cones, buttressed roots, thick, fire resistant bark and supportive “knees”.

The Senator is survived by seven clones that have been transplanted around the state as well as Lady Liberty, the Senator’s 2000 year old companion tree in Big Tree Park.

Photo by Jared Lennon

Breaking News: Death of an Iconic Conifer

Investigators have arrested a woman who admits to lighting a fire that accidentally torched a 3500 year old Pond Cypress in Longwood, FL. Arson was initially ruled out in the death of “the Senator”, due to the intensity of the blaze in the upper portion of the tree, leading investigators to blame a lightning strike for the fire. Despite evidence that a fire might have been set in the base of the hollowed out trunk of the ancient tree, it wasn’t until witnesses came forward with information regarding the crime that the full story unfolded. The woman in question, 24 year old Sara Barnes, admitted to lighting a fire to see the drugs she was about to take. The apparent out-of-control fire blazed up through the nearly hollowed out trunk and into the canopy. The suspect took photos but did not call 911, instead she bragged about it days later. Fire crews had to pull hoses over one mile to reach the Senator by which time it was too late. The massive tree collapsed to the ground.

Opinion

Pond Cypress and Bald Cypress can be found through out the southeastern United States and although much of the old growth has been cut there are still places where centuries old cypress can be found (like the one above, photographed in Audubon’s Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary in Naples, FL). Still, cypress-filled wetlands are destroyed by the acre each day due to development. We’ll never have another Senator “unless”….

Stuck - The Southern Black Racer

It’s Sunday night and I find myself in a predicament. The story I wish to write involves a mystery to which I never solved and I’ve invested all of my time and thought into writing about this particular subject matter. I am stuck but I have no choice but to plow forward. My wife found a Southern Black Racer (Coluber constrictor priapus) in our back yard in Lehigh Acres, FL. It was dead with its head firmly entrenched in a hole in the ground. The body was unscathed. I have no idea how this happened.

Ignore the “constrictor” part of the species name for the racer. The snake most often uses its speed to chase down prey. Once in its toothy grasp, it will eat its prey live rather than squeeze it to death as the species name might imply. The racer is most likely to freak out those with snake phobias. When threatened, it will rapidly shake its tail, causing nearby vegetation to vibrate and simulating the sound, as best as possible, of a rattlesnake. More commonly they will simply dart off with impressive zip. You can’t really call it a slither. More aptly they tear off like black lightning.

None of this helps me come any closer to solving the mystery of the snake with its head buried in the sand. I grab it by the tail and by its midsection, attempting to retract it from the hole. A series of internal pops discourages me from pursuing this tact. I switch to a shovel, which ironically is how many snakes die. In this case I gently pry the sandy soil from under the snake to discover that the hole was no deeper than the two inches the snake had progressed. The snake had nothing in its mouth and nothing seemed to be hanging on to the snake.

Had the snake chased after prey in an undiscovered subterranean hole? Had the snake investigated a hole and simply got stuck? Or had a predator chased it and the racer died trying to make its own escape route? I don’t know and I’m left with a mystery and stuck with a story I don’t know how to end. 

Keep Your Enemies Closer - Alligators and Turtles

Alligators eat turtles. It’s not their number one choice on the menu but they have no qualms about eating them. Sliders, cooters, softshells, snappers. If they can chomp them and swallow them – down they go. But that doesn’t mean they can’t tolerate each other.

Alligators have one of the most powerful bites in the natural world. Their teeth are not sharp, nor can they chew, but an adult alligator can exert more than 2000 lbs of pressure per square inch of their jaw. With 80 concrete-like pegs for teeth they can snap that jaw shut with lightning speed and make a delicious meal out of the crunchiest turtle. The problem with turtles is not that they have shells but the style of the shell. Florida Softshell Turtles (Apalone ferox) are quick and pliable. Normally they can squeeze into the narrowest crevices to avoid danger. The tenacious turtle in the bottom right photo went for a ride in the jaws of the alligator but eventually escaped. Yes that’s the poor thing’s snout.

Sliders and Cooters can grow well-rounded carapaces (the upper half of their shell) which makes eating them all the more problematic. Imagine trying to eat a baseball-sized walnut. In the shell. Your mouth is too small and your jaw is not strong enough. A turtle with a high shell might get captured in the jaws of an alligator but it may be difficult for the gator to chomp down. Often a large turtle will escape with a slightly cracked shell or a tooth mark or two.

Alligators have a seemingly unending supply of teeth. Beneath each of the 80 conical teeth is another tooth ready to go, so if one is lost in a turtle-eating attempt, the alligator has plenty more where that came from.

In the top photo, the turtles were polite enough to allow the alligator the choicest of basking spots on the log. “You go first. We’ve got your back.” This alligator is far too small to sample any of the four turtles relaxing behind it. Plus feeding time for alligators is usually after sundown. Of course, there’s nothing keeping another bigger alligator from clearing the log of all occupants.

South of the Border–Monarch Watch Part I

When I was a kid our family made an annual summer migration from South Florida to Upstate New York and back again in the fall. It was an arduous trek that I liken to that of the Monarch Butterflies that are completing their southern migration as I type.

The circadian cue that prompted our northern departure was an overdose of vitamin D and the ability to roast ants with a magnifying glass at 9 pm in the evening. Too much sun. Time to head north. This was a huge relief for me and my siblings who grew up with no air conditioning. It was also an opportunity to avoid flea season which as I look back now was something that was probably unique to our home.

Our 1200 mile journey required many stops to rest and feed. Monarchs stop at nutrient-rich, nectar-loaded flowers before resuming their flight. We seemingly stopped at every Burger King and Arby’s along the Atlantic Coast.

The return trip was no less exhausting and the ravenous fleas waiting back home made it all the more dreadful, but “South of the Border”, the tacky highway tourist trap between the Carolinas was a refuge, a sombrero-adorned landscape, illuminated like fireflies at night like with festive green and orange lights. To my parents it was a Venus flytrap. They knew they shouldn’t stop, but they couldn’t help it. It meant we were half way home and it made for a fun rest stop full of as much Mexican culture as Arby’s was full of nutrients.

For migrating butterflies there is no shortage of dangers. Windshields, predators and exhaustion surely claim thousands each migration. Not all of them intend to make it all the way south. Some lay eggs and it will be that generation that carries on the migration south.

At the St. Mark’s National Wildlife Refuge on Florida’s panhandle coastline, the last of the Monarchs are gorging themselves on sugar-rich nectar before casting themselves from the shore and heading across the Gulf towards Mexico. There they’ll ride out the winter before heading back north again.

As I take photos and watch the spectacle of Monarchs, Fritillaries and Buckeyes feeding on salt bush and goldenrods, I search for inner calm as hundreds of no-seeums, aka blood sucking midges, feast on me. I’m reminded of the fleas and as much as I’d love to stay, it’s time to go.

Killing Animals is Funny

If a black cat ran on a basketball court on Halloween and a player kicked it to death it would be hysterical right? And if a sinister python slithered among the players until it was beaten to death it would be a hoot. So no doubt when Manu Ginobili of the San Antonio Spurs whacks a bat to death during an NBA game it's a laugh riot. The problem is - it's not. I enjoy ESPN's Mike and Mike in the Morning but when they hosted SportsCenter a few nights ago and played a video of this event I was livid at their humored reaction. I was further annoyed by a guest of ESPN's Scott van Pelt Show who claimed anyone who doesn't find this funny needs to shut up and go away.

Here's where I have a problem:

1) NBA star Manu Ginobili should not be in charge of pest control.

2) A bat flying loose in an NBA arena on Halloween? Coincidence? I think someone captured one and set it loose and if this is the case, they endangered the safety of any one of the 17000+ people in attendance.

3) If the bat wasn't freed upon the crowd than it may have been roosting in the arena and was disoriented or it was sick - potentially with rabies. I'm not saying they needed to evacuate the place but there should have been some attempt to capture the low-flying animal other than a mascot swinging a net at it. Bats can carry rabies but it's rare. Day flying bats in the US should be treated as if they are sick and certainly that is what should have happened here.

4) People in general have a disdain for the night-flying creatures. They are "low on the food chain" as Scott van Pelt suggested on his Tuesday radio show. Bats are intelligent, highly social creatures - so this and other ill-informed comments can be considered woefully ignorant.

5) A San Antonio Spurs official said the bat was taken away and "released". Anyone who comes in physical contact needs to be vaccinated against rabies. One of their players swatted the bat from the air and handed it to an arena employee and they let the bat loose? I would imagine the bat was killed and the team is hoping to avoid a PR mess.

6) PETA as usual needs to take a breath and not take such a hateful anti-Manu stance. It was a split second reaction - not the brightest move but Manu Ginobili is not Michael Vick.

In the end Manu had to get 4 rabies vaccination shots and will have to have subsequent shots further down the road. I hate needles. I've had the vaccinations. It's not as bas as he's making it out. But I'll give him credit - no doubt he was put up to it, but he did speak out against anyone handling bats and the dangers of rabies. If only he or any of the misinformed media would have had a little more respect for bats as a species in general. They are amazing when they are not being demonized.

Jelly Belly

And people wonder why I hate the beach.... Nothing gets my attention quicker when I'm floating around in the ocean than someone racing out of the water screaming.

"JELLYFISH! JELLYFISH!" - Suddenly I felt a sting on my leg. I was nowhere near this person screaming so apparently my psychosomatic empathy was kicking in. MaLe and I had been relaxing in the ocean for a while so we decided to head out and as I pushed my way towards shore I felt an electric buzz drag from my bellybutton, around my side and across my back. No doubt what that was.

The photo is the rash from belly to back. Nasty. And the rash is nasty too.

Having an allergy to bee stings - I was immediately concerned with the effects of a jellyfish sting and made my way to our beach chairs to find my epi-pen - a needle-injected dose of epinephrine that prevents severe allergic reactions and potential death. I looked through the bag. No epi-pen. I raced back to the car, side swelling, rash burning. No epi-pen in the car. I ran over to the ranger station - no ranger in the ranger station. Peeing on it won't work. My throat was not swelling but my heart was beating twice as fast as normal. When I finally found a ranger he explained to me how rare it is to find jellyfish here, but I was the 10th victim of the day. He explained I'd have to hang upside down while he attached leeches to my skin as a remedy. Seeing as I wasn't believing that nonsense - he used an After Bite stick - apparently the ammonia neutralizes the sting. No anaphylactic shock to worry about anyway. The burning subsided and we retreated back home.

I wouldn't have needed it but it was only the third time I have been without my Epi-Pen. Must remember - Epi means "upon" in Greek. Must have the Epi-Pen upon me if I ever need it.

Chinese Roulette

Buying a house in Florida these days is like playing Russian Roulette. You might get a break on a foreclosure. You might get a house at 50% of the asking price from 2 years ago. And you might get a house tainted with Chinese Drywall.

As MaLe and I continue to search for an escape from the beehive (apartment complex) here in Fort Myers, we have had to cast a wider net to find the "house of our dreams" which doesn't exist because no one builds tree houses with vine elevators and bamboo cascade plumbing. Instead we're searching in an apocalyptic wasteland of vandalized homes and newly built horrors laced with sulphuric toxified drywall.

Throughout 2007 and 2008 I would decry the Lee County housing boom to my Everglades tourists as we escaped the urban sprawl and headed into the majestic swamp that I love. I despise the growth and never could understand how an economy driven by construction could be sustainable in what was once a natural landscape. Tourism needs to be king.

Lee County was one of the top 5 growing areas in the US from 2004-2008. Not so coincidentally it is now in the top 5 for foreclosures. During that time of catyclstmic growth, the US ran out of drywall and began importing hundreds of millions of sheets from China. It stands to reason that the top areas for residential growth would use the lion's share of Chinese drywall. We have a lot here and we have no idea where it all is.

Early in 2009 reports began to surface of foul smells eminating from the walls of dozens of homes in the area. The problem became a national crisis when it was determined that the sulphuric stench was coming from the drywall rending thousands of homes unlivable. Clearly drwall should not do this and as to date they have no good idea as to why it's off gassing. Nor do they have an idea of how to fix the problem. Builders are hesitant to step in although some have. Home Owner's Insurance does not cover this issue and governmental agencies are seemingly sniffing the gas themseleves and have been slow to react to the wideing crisis, although there are some efforts to support home owners. I'd love for some support for home buyers too.

The fumes are toxic. It corrodes electronics. It eats away at galvanized nails. It burns lungs and causes watery eyes. Some people have no choice but to live in their homes this way.

I feel for the people that live in these homes and have to pay mortgages. I also wonder if those that lost homes to foreclosure consider themsleves lucky to be out of the situation.

For us, the problem is growing more frustrating each day. We have been looking for houses for 5 months now. There are few in our price range and those that are could have Chinese Drywall. Sellers don't always disclose the presence of the toxic drywall. Sometimes they don't know if the house contains it. The new horror is flippers buying houses - tearing the toxic drywall out and rebuilding. They can sell a house that had Chinese Drywall without the buyer knowing. And who knows what the long term effects of the toxin will be even after the drywall is replaced.

I haven't even touched on the issue of 450 million sheets of Chinese Drywall and where it will end up.....

Putting an offer on a house tomorrow. 5 months. Time to pull the trigger.

6th Florida Panther Killed on Road

"A two- to three-month-old female panther was struck by a vehicle and killed in Everglades National Park on Monday night.The incident occurred at 10:15 just before the park’s entrance station, according to the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. The body was collected by a Park Service ranger and transferred to the Naples FWC office late this afternoon. It will remain until a necropsy can be preformed.

The person who hit the panther noticed the mother standing by, but didn’t see any other kittens. The kitten who was killed did not have a kinked tail or cowlick.This is the 15th panther death this year, six of which have been killed on the roadways, FWC reported."

-Fort Myers News-Press, September 30th, 2008

*sigh*

The park entrance in question is the main entrance which brings you to the famous Anhinga Trail, Mahogany Hammock Trail as well as the small town of Flamingo at the southern end of the park. The park stays open to accommodate the campgrounds but the road to Flamingo is long - 39 miles - and no doubt people speed on the 35 MPH road. I don't know if that's the case here, but either way - one more Endangered Florida Panther is dead.

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Gator Hurdling - Let Sleeping Gators Lie

In grade school many of us had to do the standing/running long jump for P.E. (Physical Education) but we were never offered a practical application for it. I assumed it would help if I ever need to jump from rooftop to rooftop like on the A-team. But a young boy had to put that skill to the test on tour yesterday when he had to leap over a sleeping alligator.

He didn't have to so much as he needed to.

My tour brings people to the Fakahatchee Strand State Park where we walk a gravel path to reach an elevated boardwalk. As I walked my group towards the boardwalk we noticed a good sized 8 foot alligator stretched across the path, sunbathing.
As we inched closer you could see her breathing in and out and she had her legs and feet positioned to catch the most rays. This is known in yoga as the "leisurly lizard". With my nervous band of travelers behind me, I took the lead, inviting them to come closer - but not too close. If the alligator was healthy and needed to escape I wanted to make sure she had a clear path. Regardless I always make sure I am the fastest in the group. The gator rotated herself and aimed her body towards the swamp - plopping back down and resting once again.
While we watched and my group bravely shuffled ever closer - a young boy stepped off the boardwalk in front of us. He was around 10 years of age and had gone well ahead of his parents. A teenager in my group yelled for him to stop, but the boy obliviously whistled and kicked rocks, looking at the ground. "Alligator" the boy in my group shouted. The younger boy looked up, shot us a startled....hrrrm...freaked out look, and JUMPED over the tail of the alligator! He cleared a 5-foot swath while the alligator napped on.
The alligator looked a little skinny. This was not normal behavior. Maybe she was sick. Most alligators would have bolted for the water but this one had little intention of moving. It could have easily bitten anyone had it wished to or chomped those that had ignored their long jump lessons in school.

Bite Me - Muérdeme

An alligator bit off the hand of a man fishing in Lake Trafford on Thursday. This is the lake I take people to for an airboat ride on our tour. Lake Trafford has an estimated 3000 adult alligators. It is the highest concentration of alligators per acre in the world.

Read the news article and watch the video (which is hilarious for the reporting alone).

Currently due to the drought, the lake is 7 feet below normal. That's bad and that means the alligators are packed in like sardines. It also means that people can't fish from the pier. Their worms would just hit mud when they cast out. Instead some of the locals have turned to cast netting which involves walking out into the lake (full of alligators) and casting their net in the hopes of catching fish.

(photo not mine)

When Luis Hernandez did this on Thursday, he reached down to pull in his net and an alligator bit his hand. Not off initially, but the bones were crushed and the hand was dangling by a tendon. That too is not good. My first reaction was "what an idiot". We see these guys wading into the lake every day while we show people hundreds of alligators. They have been warned by law enforcement and wildlife officers. But since they are supposedly catching exotic Tilapia and not native fish, they are not breaking any laws by wading into the lake (full of alligators). I say this without exaggeration. The lake is normally 1600 acres when full. It's 1000 acres or less now and we see hundreds of alligators every day.

Normally the fishermen wade out with helpers. One to watch for alligators and the others to haul in their catch. It's still dangerous but the fish are free and Tilapia costs $4.99 lb at the local Winn Dixie. I don't know this man. I don't know his situation. I don't know how desperate his situation is. For all I know this is the only way he can put food on the table. Is he an idiot? No. Is he taking a risk? Absolutely.
His hand will not be reattached.

Another sad result of this dangerous behavior is that an alligator ended up getting culled. Fish and Wildlife reported catching the 6 foot gator after an hour of looking. This is preposterous. To find the alligator in that lake (which is full of alligators) is like finding 2 snowflakes that look like alligators. It's that ridiculous. So instead, to quell panic and fear of a man eating alligator they no doubt killed the first alligator they could find.


So I feel bad for Luis Hernandez who may or may not have had to wade into a lake (full of alligators) to feed himself. I'm sure he didn't want to lose his hand but he might as well have had a sign on that said "Bite Me" (Muérdeme en Español)