A visit to Shoal River Headwaters State Park

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As we were planning what I’d write for my first post on this blog, I expected an excursion of maybe a stroll of a mile or two while snapping photos of cool plants and animals. But once WFSU Ecology Producer Rob Diaz de Villegas and I set out at Shoal River Headwaters State Park, that assumption was turned on its head. 

The park exists to protect the headwaters of the Shoal River, a part of the Yellow River watershed that eventually flows into Pensacola Bay. Beyond protecting the waterways themselves, the park preserves the surrounding ecosystem, including a landscape that depends on fire to remain healthy.

The Shoal River flows west from the park.

The park opened in January, which might’ve been a better time to visit. A visit to any hiking trail requires bringing lots of water, especially in the unrelenting summer sun. Despite this fact, I, a positively ignorant hiker, finished my water about 30 minutes in. Nevertheless, we got past the gate and began our venture. That’s what it felt like to me, anyway; to Rob it was probably closer to a typical Thursday. 

As I said, I wasn’t much of a hiker before this, so when I saw the trail map, I figured I was in for a short, cool, shady stroll. However, I should’ve read the map more carefully. Rob and I started on the Shoal River Headwaters Loop Trail, then took a detour onto the Gum Creek Trail before returning to the original loop. Our journey totaled about eight miles round trip. The park has picnic tables spaced about a mile apart, giving hikers a chance to rest before continuing.

The adaptability of Florida harvester ants

In addition, the ecosystems present were on the sides of wide roads turned into hiking/biking trails, covered with gravel or red clay. 

Florida harvester ants (Pogonomyrmex badius) made nests in the gravel and clay. They typically make their nests in the sandhill and line them with charred pine needles. Since the sandhill had not been burned, there was little open space among the pine trees and no charred needles for the ants to use. Adaptable and resourceful, the ants instead made their nests from the gravel and clay humans added to the roadway. 

Fire isn’t just beneficial for harvester ants; however, it benefits many of the plants and animals we encounter. 

In a place where fire is a natural and necessary part of the environment, prescribed burns help balance the ecosystem and support the plants and wildlife that depend on it. 

It was fascinating to witness the different ecosystems in such proximity. One moment we were walking through dry, open longleaf pine habitat, and before long, the trail would dip into lower, wetter areas where water had puddled along the path and the woods became noticeably more swampy. Then we would climb back up into the higher, drier sandhill.

Moving between several different environments was an adventure in and of itself. Each had its own plants and wildlife.

Gopher Tortoise Watch

A keystone species in the longleaf pine ecosystem is the Gopher Tortoise. Without them, the entire ecosystem would collapse. Their insulated, deep burrows provide shelter for 350+ other species, including snakes, frogs, and mice. The burrows also help protect the tortoises from Florida’s extreme temperatures, staying relatively cool even when the surface becomes dangerously hot.

Since the tortoise is so crucial in this ecosystem we were guests of, I desperately hoped we’d spot one. Early on, the ingredients were there: Gopher Apple, a common snack for the tortoise, spread sporadically throughout the grass. Every time we’d pass them, I wondered if a tortoise would be there.

Every rustle we heard made us turn our heads. I was certain that one of those rustles was a tortoise, but once I looked, there was nothing to see. We kept walking.

A walk through the wildflowers

Another key feature of the longleaf pine ecosystem is the myriad of wildflowers. Among the grass, I learned many new types of wildflowers that day.

We stopped to view some Savannah Meadow Beauties, which caught my eye because of their bright magenta-purple color, which contrasts well with the green grass. 

These flowers stand at 3-4 feet and rely on frequent fires to eliminate competition and clear out choking forest debris. There were also white meadow beauties, which were just stunning.

There was also Boneset, which looked as though it would be the perfect accent in a bridal bouquet. Because they bloom in late summer to mid-August, they serve as essential late-season fuel for migrating insects. 

Purple was also present in spurred Butterfly Pea.

Another interesting one we spotted was the Greater Florida Spurge. 

We also spotted some soft greeneyes, flowers typically found in Sandhill habitats.

To the untrained eye, these flowers may look like weeds (that’s what they looked like to me at first), but upon closer examination I realized they are unique parts of the ecosystem. I learned later that they give off a rich, chocolatey scent. 

We found similar wildflower species on our last visit to Crooked Creek, a place where sandhill habitat has been undergoing restoration for over a decade.

Among the Hibiscus, Rob meets a new bee

As we moved through the park, the landscape shifted again. The trail descended into wetter areas where water had collected alongside the path, and pineland hibiscus kept catching our attention.

The flowers were buzzing with activity, and bees darted in and out of their bright blooms. Rob is a bee enthusiast, and after hearing him talk about bees and seeing the many stories he has done about them, I knew this was exactly the kind of thing that would catch his attention.

One bee in particular looked unfamiliar.

Rob tried to photograph it, but the bee had disappeared so far into the flower that all he could see was it working its way into the deep maroon “eye” at the center. Still, he was determined. He couldn’t quite walk away from an unfamiliar bee without figuring out what he was looking at.

After a little investigating, Rob discovered that it was a hibiscus turret bee, a specialist of hibiscus flowers.

For Rob, who is giving a talk on native bees next month, discovering a bee he had never seen before was exciting. For me, it was another reminder that even the plants that seemed familiar could hold something unexpected inside them.

What first looked like just another bee visiting a flower turned out to be a small but important piece of the ecosystem we were exploring.

Creek walking and carnivorous plants

After a long hot hike up and down a sandhill, we spotted a few fire-dependent carnivorous plants by a small pond. 

Dewthread is one of them: it creates a glittering array of sticky, glue-like droplets along its slender leaves, trapping unsuspecting insects like flypaper. 

Another carnivorous plant was the sweet pitcher plant. 

Rob uploaded a photo to iNaturalist, identified as a sweet pitcher plant. However, someone identified it as the subspecies Gulf Coast redflower pitcher plant, which is entirely endemic to a narrow stretch of Florida’s Gulf Coast (Gadsden and Liberty counties, and west into Escambia County).  They only grow natively in these counties; nowhere else on Earth. We expected to see more pitcher plants throughout the park, but we only really explored one side.

Hoping to see everything the park had to offer, Rob and I followed a trail loop to head us to the creek.

The creek is shallow enough that anyone wanting to cross it or even walk through it easily could. I personally wasn’t prepared to deal with wet pants and shoes, so I stayed on the bank. Looking back, I wonder if following the creek would’ve led us to more pitcher plants. 

Are there gopher tortoises at Shoal River Headwaters State Park?

By this point, we had walked for miles, run out of water, and baked in the summer sun. But we still hadn’t found what I had been wanting to see since the beginning.

We had seen Gopher Apples scattered throughout the park. We had heard rustling in the grass. Earlier, we had even come across a burrow, but its entrance looked old and unused.

Then, near the end of our hike, we came across another burrow.

The entrance was clearly maintained, its sandy opening clean. We still didn’t see a tortoise, but we had enough evidence to determine that the keystone species we had been searching for was likely here, among the diverse ecosystems.