Loading...
March 12, 1998 - Fort DeSoto: A Birder's Paradise6A • The Suffolk Times • March 12, 1998 Fort Desoto: A Birder's Paradise Sitting at a picnic table at our Fort De Soto campsite, we're surrounded by palm trees and giant live oaks with their tropical understory. We have been here for three days and have had a ball trav- eling around this county park with its 900 acres of roads, trails and endless beaches reaching out into Tampa Bay and the Gulf Focus of Mexico. It lies On just below St. Petersburg here in Nature Florida. We were here some 20 by Paul years ago on a Stoutenburgh spring break. At that time we had the luxury of staying in someone's home nearby. It was then we found out that here was a place you could drive right up to the water's edge all along the roadsides and beaches, letting you bird right from your car. As a matter of fact, if you get out of your car, the birds usually fly away so birding from your car is most appropriate. An old historic fort built around the turn of the century is the focal point of this huge park. It was built as part of a chain of forts to protect the all- important harbor of Tampa Bay to the north. As Barbara and I walked the ramparts and visited the underground bunkers where projectiles, explosives and other ancient means of warfare were stored, it took me back to years ago when I visited Plum and Little Gull islands. The same thick, buried, cement kind of fortifications showed up there. Each fort had its heyday, with its hun- dreds of soldiers and brass doing their bit for the country so many years ago. Here, as we walked above the earthen- covered bunkers, we looked down on the huge 12- inch mortars that could throw an 800 - pound projectile six miles out into the Gulf of Mexico. At their prime they were state -of -the -art in coastal defense, yet the guns were never fired at a would -be enemy. There were over 30 buildings in support of the fort at one time, but today only the concrete fort remains as a sym- bol of what was thought to be the ultimate in defense. The history of Florida, like our west, is darkly entangled with the original native settlers. Here in Tampa Bay in 1539 Hernando De Soto landed in the name of Spain and ran into hostile Indians and why not? Here for thousands of years the local natives lived and thrived on the abundance of land and sea. As a matter of fact, De Soto returned to this area twice. The last time he was wounded in an Indian skirmish, which later crippled him and eventually caused his death in 1542. Today the area leading up to this magnificent county park is strewn with big fancy condominiums. It's a mecca for snowbirds from the north who want to escape the cold of win- ter. Every state in the union and every province of Canada has its follow- ing down here. A Day in the Park A typical day for us would go something like this: Up and out by 8 for it's then you have the park almost to your- selves. Of course, there are always those few who are up and "running" before we're out. We head our camper down the winding palm and live oak driveway that hides most campers along the way. Out on the highway we pull over here and there to peek through the canopy, hoping to see birds of the marsh or shallows. Occasionally we'll find a car or camper parked here and there, the occupants quietly fishing in their favorite spot. Driving along we see an osprey atop a high- tension pole. He's eat- ing a silvery fish of some sort. This could be the close relative of our weakfish they have down here — the spotted sea trout. Further along we see great egrets stalk- ing the edges of the bushes. They are probably looking for frogs or snakes or, as a matter of fact, anything that moves will suit this three - foot -high white giant. It's getting near nesting time and many now don the large, white feathery plumes that were responsible for them becoming almost extinct. It was these white plumes the market gunner sought years ago for the millinery trade. Thank goodness the Audubon Society and others were finally Gardiners Island. Down here in Florida this elegant bird has found that man often has a free meal or handout to offer and so often we see one standing stately at some- one's campsite, waiting patiently. It's also a beggar of fishermen, who often throw the little ones their way. Another beggar of the fishermen is the laughing gull, who fights for the smallest tidbit. This is the small gull with the black head and noisy call. We often see the young that lacks the black hood feeding along the Sound and bays of our East End during the sum- Suffolk Times photo by Barbara Stoutenburgh YELLOW- CROWNED NIGHT HERON —This stalker of the marsh edge is rarely seen on our north shore. Usually it is the black - crowned night heron we see at dusk as he comes from hiding to spend his night fishing along our marsh edges. Its local name is V i wwtn nwwV 1111110111 a "VV1A >vaa.n 75 Years Ago March 9, 1923 Orient News: For the past year there has been consid- erable discussion among the prominent men and women of the village as to the wisdom of buying the property known as Brown's Hill and presenting it to the village for a public park. The property comprises more than 10 acres and includes the highest land in Orient. From the top of this hill it is said that the lights from 28 lighthouses and lightships may be seen on a clear night. There are big trees which pro- vide shade, and in whose sheltering branches many feathered songsters find homes in the summertime. Several hundred feet of the property along the Sound shore afford good bathing and fishing. There are many points pro and con to consider, we might venture to assume, before the property is purchased, but as far as the site is concerned, it seems to be perfect if only the beauty of the spot is taken into consideration. 50 Years Ago March 12, 1948 Local Songwriter Is Published: Last week Mrs. Virginia Zebroski of Greenport received word from the Nordyke Music Publications Company of Hollywood, Calif., that the words for a new song she had written had been accepted and the song published. The new song, which is entitled "There's Always You," is on sale in the local stores. able to get laws passed to prevent this useless slaughter. We see this great white egret in our local creeks at home. It's the one you'll probably see in a short time, as some come up north to nest on Plum Island or The catchy tune and the sentimental words should make this new song popular Mrs. Zebroski is the former Miss Virginia Lee Wiggins, whose name as a songwriter is published as Valee Wiggins. Advertisement: Now you can wallpaper your home for only $7.47 per room. Come in now and select your beau- tiful new rooms. B. Van Popering, 140 Main St., Greenport. 25 Years Ago March 9, 1973 In an Oyster Shell: We may not have a gal in the White House yet, but we might have one at the County Center if Republicans do what they say they're going to do and nominate Jean Tuthill for the position of County Treasurer. And if she wins, which would seem likely, Jean will be the first woman elected to a countywide office in Suffolk. We called her at her Riverhead office this week, just to chat and learn a little about this good - looking, money -mind- ed, 40- year -old gal who now is second in command, deputy treasurer of the county. She's already wise at collecting and depositing all county funds and keeping her fingers walking through the bookkeeping records. She agreed that women have been held back in business, particularly in politics, she admitted, but insisted that she doesn't go overboard for women's lib. — Editor Barbara Dorman mer. Working the Beaches Our destination ahead is the east end of this seven - mile beach. Here we drive off the road onto the hard surface grass that almost touches the water's edge. For days we've had a strong northwest wind and here in the lee of the shore the birds have congregated to rest, preen, sleep and feed. Long- and short - billed dowitchers, sander - lings, willets, turnstones, oystercatchers, black -bel- lied plovers, least sand- pipers, Wilson's plovers and others all huddle along the shore. Amongst them are the herring, ring- billed and laughing gulls mixed in with common terns, Forster's terns and the big, handsome, white royal terns with their large orange bills. We eat our lunch with this assemblage of birds before us. Binoculars are almost unnecessary, but if you really want to look eye -to -eye, binoculars make the day. Most are standing on one leg, the typical resting pose of these birds. Even when something moves them, they hop, hop, hop on one leg rather than put their other foot down. It's an odd things to watch, this bobbing up and down on one leg by hundreds of birds. I can only imagine that they have just come in from their long flight up the Gulf and have stopped here to rest on their way northward. Most of these shorebirds will stop along the fly- way north to rest and find food. One of the most spectacular places to see their feeding frenzy is along the quiet shores of Delaware and Maryland, where each spring the horseshoe crabs, like our own, come ashore by the thousands to lay their eggs at the sandy water's edge. It's from these eggs the shorebirds build up their fat reserve to carry them on their way north. Then at the tundra of the north they'll stop to nest and raise their young. After the short nightless summer, they'll head back down south again. Remark- able. Later, back at the campsite, we take our bikes and ride around seeking our what- ever comes into view. One later afternoon we found a yellow- crowned night heron at the water's edge along with a Louisiana heron and reddish egret. Our days are full. Meals are short and sleep comes easy. We dream of flocks of flying shorebirds that flash their white under - wings at us as if they were all tethered to the same string, and on command turn and bank for our enjoyment.