Everglades 2

Miles and miles of grass, some dry, some wet, interspersed with forests of tall trees and long thin lakes. Finally the grass gives up its endlessness and the bay appears in front of us. Nothing but water broken by dozens of heavily treed islands. Somewhere in the far distance beyond the thousand islands runs the line of keys pointing its long thin finger at Cuba. Jet black vultures with white wing tips wheel over the campground. Dusty and one of them goes nose to nose. The pelicans glide in groups of 10 and 20, big moving van bodies with rough wings and crooked necks and long grey beaks, sail to the new congregation point just in front of our walk. The walk, which would have been waters edge last night, is now 100 yards of muck from the channel. Dust and I try to reach the birds, but give up 20 yards in as I sink to more than 12” deep into the thick grey mire. Crocks bask on the shore, must be a crocks, its salt water, and one swims to the boat dock where a man hoses off his boat. The crock lifts his head out of the water leaning against the wood, the water trickles down and he opens his mouth to taste the fresh water.  The walk along the shore has palms and mangroves. Many small white birds, miniature cranes, feed 5 feet away. A small field of pods, mouths open, they look like giant black fury Venus Fly Trap heads eating cotton. A manatee, lurking in the murky water rises up and its nostril breaks the surface. A breath of air and we wont see him for a quarter hour. Gator tail for lunch. Does not taste like chicken. Tastes like… tastes like… gator!