SUWANNEE SPRING ... with Fangorn

Let's go for a Spring walkabout at Suwannee River State Park. Do it now while the new foliage has that Spring glow to it, the humidity is down, and the mosquitoes are few and far between.

Like most Florida state parks that border on water, the boat ramp at the park is excellent. I was "sans kayak" on this day as my goal was just to revisit a park that I had not been to in a very long time.

There's a trailhead near the boat ramp, so after inspecting the ramp, I headed off into the river forest. 

The trail flows through the floodplain of the river than into some uplands and back along the river bank. 

This walk was Spring 2017 and the river was low, so much of the floodplain was exposed.

The floodplain trees, buttressed against the river which often covers their base, were easy to access.

These old giants have met the challenge of years of living in an ecosystem that was alternately dry, like now, but also submerged when the rains come.

This is a gnarly old tree lover's part of the trail. (So, what I mean by that is it is a trail for folks who love gnarly old trees ...not a trail for gnarly old humans who love trees.
If the shoe fits though ...

I was glad I came during a low river stage and could walk among the trees and the exposed rocky sinks.

Of course, big trees have big knees.

I mean REALLY big knees.

After dawdling in the exposed floodplain for a ridiculously long time, I hit my stride through the uplands section. It was pretty, but very similar to my personal habitat here at PFHQ.

Besides, there was a river and a spring to see.

 The trail back to the boat ramp offers great views of this beautiful National Scenic River.
As you walk along the river trail and approach the boat ramp again, you can hear Lime Spring before you ever see it.

Lime Spring is a treat.

It bubbles out of the river bank and tumbles into the Suwannee. Seeing the spring like this depends on the river's level of course.

If you go to Suwannee River State Park and you are very lucky, you might meet the Ent below.

 Believe me, I was as surprised as anyone when Fangorn strolled up and asked for a selfie.

Seems he's a fan of Pure Florida, so I had to oblige.

Balance and Being Higher Than I Wanna Be

Prefabbing a wee knee wall.

Early in June, our old well pump, tank, and foot valve all gave out within days of each other. While the well had plenty of water and the well casing was good, all the parts that make water come up and out of it were tired, and ... well, ...done.


When I built the pumphouse 3 kids ago, I thought it was roomy enough for someone to get in there and work on the system when the time came.

I even built the roof as a detachable component, since it was reasonable to expect that some future repair might require a drilling rig to access the casing.

Decades passed, and last summer that came to pass also. The roof would need to come off so the well guy could pull the pipe out of the casing to replace the pipe, fittings, and footvalve.

When he told me the roof had to go, I proudly announced that it was no problem, the roof was only clamped on.

It took 4 of us to remove it however as I had overbuilt it of plywood and shingles ... it was pretty heavy.

We lifted it off and leaned it against a tree while repairs happened.  Looking at it, I considered how worn around the edges it was, but it was cheaper just to put it back on after the work was done.

Then the wind blew it over and crunched some important parts. 

Decision made.

I would replace the roof and raise it about a foot by building a knee wall atop the very sturdy pump house framing.

But first, I needed to raise the building itself to get it back off the ever rotful Florida ground.

Working by myself, I lifted the pumphouse, one side at a time, by using a fence post lever, concrete block fulcrum, and numerous concrete chunks for just enough lift to float the side so I could level concrete blocks beneath it.

This is how the pyramids were built my friends.
Well, kind of how they were built.

Science helps those who help themselves.

The rafters I had so many years before were in good shape until the roof fell over in the breeze.
I spent an afternoon, driving out old nails, and screwing them back together with 3" Deckmate screws. When I finished, they were stronger than ever.
Salvage successful.

The photo above shows the kneewall and the recycled rafters in place and awaiting a lighter metal roof.
Before I could move to that final step, there was the matter of 3 large low hanging oak branches that were destined to die and come crashing down on to my new roof through storm action or just natural shade pruning of lower limbs.

I decided to take them out in a preemptive strike using all sorts of ropes, pulleys, sharp tools, a really long ladder, and a willingness, ... no, an EAGERNESS, to climb into the oak's upper stories. 

The video below is kind of long, 17 minutes or so, but it documents just one part of the tree trimming task on a day when multiple challenges were faced.

If you're curious click play, if not, that's cool too. 

Say Goodbye To The Red Bay Tree

If You Haven't Already Done So, Go Outside And Hug Your Red Bay Trees, Because They Are Doomed.

Doomed, and there is nothing you can do to prevent it.
Let's not sugar coat this.
This is bad.
This just another of far too many invasive, nonnative introductions to Florida. This one, an exotic fungus spread by an exotic beetle, is possibly an extinction event for the beautiful, (and previously taken for granted by me), Red Bay Trees (Persea borbonia).

This is a depressingly common view on most of our rural Levy county roads. A wall of green punctuated by dead and dying Red Bays.

The Red Bay Ambrosia beetle, a tiny Asian insect only about 1/16 of an inch long infects a healthy tree with a fungus, that the beetle then feeds upon.

The Red Bay has no natural defense against either the Ambrosia Beetle or the fungus since the two villains in this tale are from Asia.

Essentially, the beetle inoculates the Red Bay tree with the fungus, creating a food source for the insect to feed upon.
As the fungus spreads, it clogs the vascular tissues causing  the Red Bay to wilt and die ... often within a week or so of infection.

This is what an infected Red Bay cambium looks like.
A cross cut on a healthy Red Bay has creamy white wood up to the bark layer.

The Ambrosia Beetles may have arrived here in wood product shipments and have been moving through the South rapidly in the past decade.
From my vantage point in the wild and rural nature coast area, it's been a dramatic sea-change in the local forests.

On my own property, my beloved Pure Florida HeadQuarters (PFHQ), I see brown everywhere I go.

Take for instance the photo below. The crispy brown leaves above my head are the lowest branches of a once beautiful Red Bay that I thought would always be here ... long after me.

Today, the first day of 2015, I cut that tree down.
The wood will all be burned in our fire pit, one small and mostly meaningless gesture to ... well, to at LEAST NOT spread it.
The one thing we all want to do is not transport cut Red Bay ANYWHERE.

I loved this tree, loved the fragrant leaves, the evergreen nature of it, and the way it leaned WAY out from where it started under a bunch of mature oaks.

Poor thing.

You can see how this tree frantically produced new, green shoots down around the base, but eventually those will succumb too.

In the past, I hacked at it's lower branches with the machete to keep my trail and gopher tortoise area open, never thinking much about a gentle touch. It was just another Red Bay and there were a blue million of them here at PFHQ.

Now, I'm pretty sure that except for young saplings popping up from last year's seeds, there probably won't be any Red Bays on my property by the end of 2015.

That really bothers me, but this will run it's course and there doesn't seem to be much we can do to stop it.

There are other things at risk here too.
The beetle and fungus combo also attack Red Bay relatives like Sassafras and the Avocado.
And then there are the native North American ecological relationships that have evolved over thousands of years ...

When the Red Bays vanish, the food they provide in the form of berries and leaves for everything from birds to bears to butterflies will go with them.


For the Palomedes Swallowtail butterfly, the Red Bay is the main larval food. As the trees disappear, so will the Palomedes Swallowtail ... which just happens to be the primary pollinator of the Pine Lily.

...sigh

So, the loss of the Red Bay may result in the loss of other organisms too.
Sounds corny to say it, but you know you're thinking it ... "It's all connected."
Not a very cheery New Years message, I know.

Ever the optimist, I'm hoping that somewhere in the millions of Red Bay seedlings pushing up into a dangerous new world, there may be a few with just the right DNA bouillabaisse to fight back with a bit of good ol'fashioned genetic resistance.

Time will tell, and on December 31, 2015, I will post an update of the Red Bay situation here at PFHQ.