Dr. Walter Tschinkel has developed a novel way to explore ant nests. We travel with him to the Apalachicola National Forest for a brand of research that creates works of art, in collaboration with the ants themselves. You can see an exhibit of this art at the Tallahassee Museum through June 10, 2018.
I think all of us at some time have stepped on a mound of dirt, uncovering scores of scurrying ants. Immediately, we brush them off our feet before they can bite us. When we see lines of ants crossing grass, we chose a different spot in the park to have our snack. And we’re definitely unhappy to see them in our house. When we see ants in our world, they’re pests. Continue reading →
The frosted elfin is a rare butterfly whose strongest concentration in the Southeast is within the Apalachicola National Forest. Photo courtesy Dean and Sally Jue.
Rob Diaz de VillegasWFSU Public Media
Today, we’re taking the kids out to ephemeral wetlands in the Apalachicola National Forest. Our purpose? To show them that right now, the wetlands aren’t so wet.
It sounds like a crazy reason to drag kids out to the forest on a Sunday morning. Last year, we adopted two wetlands with two other families, my son Max’s first grade classmates. So they’ve already started learning about this environment and formed positive memories after spending time here with their friends.
We’re here today because there’s a tremendous value in visiting the same spot in nature over time, through different seasons and climate cycles. Nature isn’t static. Individual plants and animals change through the seasons. The wetland itself changes over the course of wet and dry years. Being here is the best way for kids (and adults) to get in tune with the workings of any wild space.
And even in its current dry state, we still have the opportunity to see some things. In particular, Max, his friend Dylan, and little brother Xavi might get to see the gopher frog, a species of concern.
Byrd Hammock is an archeological site on the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge, Wakulla Beach Unit. Here, archeologists with the Southeast Archeological Center (part of the National Park Service) are trying to solve a mystery…
How do you begin to know a person who died over a thousand years ago, and left behind no writing? People lived in north Florida for at least 14,000 years before Hernando de Soto occupied Anhaica in 1539-40. Through the Spanish, we know that the people who lived here then called themselves the Apalachee. We know about their daily lives and religious beliefs, albeit through the biased lens of European witnesses. But at least those clergymen and soldiers lived among and talked to the Apalachee.
There’s no such chronicle for the previous 14,000+ years of life in the panhandle.
The Tallahassee Museum’s red wolf pups are shy, and especially early on, few people were able to see them. Luckily, they became accustomed to our cameras, and so we’ve been able to watch them grow. Below is a documentary on their first year.
Some days, the red wolves are more obviously “wild” than others. One day, for instance, I got footage of two pups fighting over a bone. Just as soon as the short tailed alpha puppy asserted that it was his rib, he became alert. I could hear a police siren faintly in the distance. Soon, all eight of the Tallahassee Museum wolves were howling. It sounded more monkey than wolf-like to me, a combination of longer howls and strange whoops. It was everything I could ask for out of a shoot day. Continue reading →
We’re walking on exposed lake bed. The ground is spongey and springy, not a place used to feet pressing down on it. The west edge of Lake Miccosukee is usually kind of a cypress swamp, and in the winter coots issue out of it to forage among the grasses in the open water alongside. Right now, though, the open water looks grassier, and I’m walking in that swamp. Miccosukee’s water is going down a hole. Continue reading →
The art and iconography of Muscogee shell carving is a window into Native cultures, their beliefs, and connection to nature. Thanks to Lynn Ivory for her photos of events at Fred George Basin Greenway and Park.
Chris Thompson is practicing an ancient art form, but with a power tool. “Used to, you would carve with a stone, or another shell that was harder,” Chris says. “Those take a lot longer to carve with. That’s mainly why we use the Dremel.” Artistically, the speed of the Dremel’s engraving tip lets Chris carve deeper into the shell surface, so that modern shell carvings have greater relief than those made by Muscogee carvers of old. Continue reading →
When we get to the mouth of Chaires Creek, the tide has gone out enough to see the tops of some oysters. It’s a little after 1 pm- high tide was 10:16 am, and low tide is 4:02 pm. If we stay too much longer, the mouth of the creek will be choked by oyster bars, and sand bars will make the kayak back to Tucker Lake slow going.
When I get to the enclosure, three red wolves of similar size are out. At first it looks like three adults, one more than I know should be here. The father wolf has always been easy to pick out; he’s a good bit bigger than the mother. I take a close look at the other two wolves, and it’s the skinny legs that give away the pup. In the almost three months since I last visited the Tallahassee Museum, these puppies have done a bit of growing. Continue reading →
Some of my favorite butterfly shots in this video came from an unrelated shoot. We were at Tall Timbers Research Station and Land Conservancy on the day of the eclipse. Did red cockaded woodpeckers get fooled into acting like it was sunset? No, it never got that dark in Tallahassee. But, on the way out, we found our way blocked by the hundred-plus butterflies you see in the opening shots. Continue reading →
In a steephead ravine, we enter a landscape as Appalachian as it is Floridian- perhaps a glimpse at the Apalachicola River of the ice ages. In part 3 of our salamander adventure, Bruce Means climbs down in search of the Apalachicola dusky, an animal he discovered here over 50 years ago.
“We’re standing at one of the places I most love in this world,” Bruce Means tells the camera. “There’s a big surprise right behind me.”
Dr. Means stands in an open field, a row of oak trees a short distance away. When we get to the tree line, we look down. Up here, all we see are the tops of trees and a slope that descends into shadows. At the bottoms of those trees, however, lies the promise of rare plants and animals, a few of which aren’t found anywhere but the Apalachicola Bluffs and Ravines region. This is a steephead ravine. Continue reading →