Adventures on the beach
In the winter, Florida’s beaches are filled with snowbirds who enjoy the sand and surf as they escape the snow, ice, and freezing temperatures. In fact, I used to be one of them. But now that I’m a year-round Florida citizen, I’ve found that the best time of year to enjoy the beaches is summer. The crowds are gone and the waters of the Gulf are as warm as an August rain. Most importantly, the turbulent surf transforms into a gentle lullaby, easy to handle for a lake swimmer like me.
My husband and I drive to the beach, which is only ten minutes from our house, two or three times a week after dinner, when the sun is low on the horizon and a nice breeze keeps us cool. We take a long walk along the water’s edge and then I swim while my husband watches the sunset from a beach chair. I usually meet him in time to see how the sun disappears over the horizon and the sky fills with a spectacular panorama of colors.
We go to the beach in winter, but only to walk, as the water is cold, the surf is high and the beaches are full of people. During a hike last winter, we passed a family who seemed to have been there most of the afternoon; two large umbrellas firmly entrenched in the sand, several blankets and a cooler scattered around them. But what caught my eye was a girl kneeling in front of a cormorant just a few feet from the family. The bird had its wings down and was not moving when the girl got a little closer. This was not normal behavior.
We kept walking, but I kept worrying about the cormorant. When we passed the group on the way back, the family was still there and so was the bird. I asked them how long the cormorant had been there. For a couple of hours, they said. Initially, the bird had spread its wings to dry them, then closed its wings and had not moved since. I walked through the dry sand and knelt a few feet from the bird. He blinked at me, but didn’t move. It appeared to be a young cormorant and obviously something was wrong. I took out my phone and looked up the number of the bird rescue that was on the island. After leaving information about the bird and directions to this place on the beach in the message service, we left, but I was tempted to stay and make sure the bird was well taken care of.
When we resumed our hike, my husband reminded me (again) of my first bird rescue attempt shortly after moving to this area. We were walking along the beach when we passed a shore bird that was standing on one foot. I, of course, became concerned that something was wrong with the bird’s other leg and walked around looking for a cell phone to borrow so I could call bird rescue (I had left mine at home). Then we walked some more and we came across several more birds that were also on one foot. When we got home, I looked up ‘Florida birds standing on one leg’ and found dozens of photos of birds in this position. My husband will never let me forget this one!
In fact, I participated in a bird rescue not long after we moved here. I was writing stories for a local newspaper and had the opportunity to join a couple, Donna and Bob, who ran a bird sanctuary and responded to calls about endangered birds. They took me with them to a marina where someone reported seeing a young pelican that appeared to be entangled in fishing line, something all too common for shorebirds. We walked to the main dock and Donna, who was only five feet tall and close to my age, started throwing handfuls of bait across the dock from a bucket she was carrying. About twenty pelicans flew to collect the fish, most of them mature birds, but also some young ones, identifiable by their brown feathers.
“There it is,” Bob yelled.
“I see it,” Donna replied.
And then I saw him, a young brown pelican nibbling at his food, a three-foot length of fishing line hanging under his wing. Donna put down the bucket and launched herself across the dock towards the bird, clutching it firmly in her lap, demonstrating an experience that came from long practice. While she held him still, Bob walked over and carefully extended the wing with the fishing line, revealing a fishing hook lodged in the bird’s chest by the wing. Carefully he removed the hook and they both examined the wound. After deciding that the pelican was not seriously injured, Bob sprayed the wound with a disinfectant and Donna let him go. We watched it fly away. Then more handfuls of food were thrown and the young pelican, no worse for his ordeal, flew off again to participate in the feast.
Pelicans were also the protagonists of a walk on the beach another day. We were walking along the beach at the southern tip of Anna Maria Island, past the remains of old docks, when a flock of more than two hundred pelicans landed near us, on the beach and on the pieces of the dock that jut out of the water. . Dozens of birds plunged into the shallow waters at the same time, coming out with tiny fish that swarmed by the thousands near the pier. We watched, paralyzed, how the birds dove again and again. We wanted to record this amazing sight, but we knew it would be a long time before we could go home for the camera and back. We should be satisfied with our memories.
Several years ago, we ran into friends on Sanibel Island and decided to take a walk on the beach. When we started our hike, we all noticed that the sand was covered in beautiful and unusually large shells. As we got closer, we noticed that the projectiles were moving. Each was a living animal (or mollusk), washed ashore by some force of nature. We started throwing as many as we could back into the waves, but soon we gave up, the amount was just too huge.
I later found out that the collection of live shells (any specimen containing an inhabitant) is prohibited in Florida. Sanibel and Captiva Island are islands of refuge and favorite places for shelling, although people are urged to limit their collections of empty shells as these shells replenish the beaches. For me, the incredible opportunity to see live mollusks crawling on the beach was more than enough; I didn’t feel like taking anything home with me.
It’s fun to watch people fishing on the beach, their lines stretched out into the waves as they recline in folding chairs enjoying the view. Most of the time, there is a blue heron nearby, waiting for a snack if the catch is too small to store or if the fisherman (or the woman) shares some bait fish with the bird when it is ready to go home. . The possibility of a free meal lessens your natural fear, which is not always a good thing.
On Friday nights, Manatee Beach has a different draw: the drum circle. Locals bring drums, cans, tambourines, and other percussion instruments that beachgoers can shake, sound, or bang to celebrate the sunset. Members of the drum circle arrive with chairs and instruments about an hour before sunset and invite anyone who is interested to join them. Of course, children are especially excited to have this opportunity to play a drum and some adults (like me) are drawn to the circle as well. The drumming peaks as the sun melts over the horizon, another week past beautiful Florida beaches.
I was telling our neighbors about our nights at the beach and how nice it is to swim at that time of night when I caught them exchanging glances. Did you know, they asked me, that sharks come to the shallows to feed at dusk? I did, more or less, but hadn’t really given it much thought. I had to admit that hearing it out loud gave me a little scary. But he had never seen one and had never heard of a shark attack on the beaches of Anna Maria. So now I’m a bit more cautious, I swim before our hike rather than after and always pick a spot in the water that has a good amount of people around. They would certainly taste better than me. It will take more than sharks to keep me off the beach and out of the water during the Florida summer months.