American crocodiles are probably my favorite animal in the Everglades. I grew up with alligators, played tag with their tails, swam with them, and even caught a few (all of which I would never condone). They're a dime a dozen in most Florida waterways. Everglades National Park, however, is the only place in the world where alligators and crocodiles share the same space. Double bonus! I've photographed alligators so many times that I'm constantly trying to find new ways of photographing them.


Crocodiles, however, are completely different beasts. In the United States they are considered endangered species and estimates range from 2,000-3,500 individuals. Besides the physical differences (longer snout, more abrupt scales, coloration, eye color, and jaw line), American crocodiles seem to have little in common with the alligators I came to know as a kid. While their gaze and exposed teeth are more menacing, they're actually incredibly shy and tough to approach. I've tried for nearly two years to capture a worthy image of these reptiles without much luck. It always seems that just as I am closing in with good light and camera ready, they scuttle off into the murky water. I do, however, have plenty of images of a giant splashing tail.

A large, 12ft crocodile basks at the edge of Lake Ingram
I embrace these types of challenges, though. The trick to any wildlife photography is figuring out the animal's habits and then putting yourself right in the middle of it. Reptiles are fairly predictable creatures. Knowing that above all else they need to warm their bodies by sunlight, I tried a technique I employed while in South Carolina. Setting my camera trap up at one of their favorite basking locations I let the shutter run for three days at 2 minute intervals. I was disappointed not to find a single crocodile when I returned to retrieve the camera but they simply have too many places they frequent to depend on one location with a static, un-manned camera. I needed a bottleneck; some sort of biotic or abiotic factor that would increase my chances of getting close.

Crocodiles gather on a mud flat along the southern tip of Florida.
Taking to the air, I scouted out locations where I thought they might congregate. It turns out flying over Cape Sable during a cold winter day the best way to see American crocodiles in the Everglades. While this made for a couple "keeper" images, I needed something better, closer,

Getting ready to paint, using a new type of palette!
Last Saturday I wrote a blog post about our plein air get-together at Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park, but I didn’t tell you about my experience using SheerHeavenTM

I'm finally getting around to editing the thousands of photos I shot at Savage Race held in Clermont, Florida at Revolution Off Road two weeks back. As promised by the Savage Race staff, this race was a definite upgrade from its debut in August of 2011; more obstacles, more competitors, more spectators, more mud, and less gale force winds! Although the thunder and lightning of last year's event put the final savage touch on the course, this year people were able to enjoy the food, beer, and live band provided by the race. These events are so much fun to shoot because there are so many opportunities for great action and raw emotion.
Here are some of my favorites:

We spent our second night at Cul Pepper Bend on the Econlockhatchee River. Twice in the night it rained. Morning clouds on the eastern horizon foiled plans to photograph the sentinel palms along the banks of the river. The fish were not biting, so I opted for a bath instead. Lawrence Dimmitt warned me not to use all the hot water as I tiptoed gingerly in the sandy shallows.

At SR 46 Lawrence and the team parted ways. We continued north to Lake Harney. At the mouth of the river we found a flock of 100 white pelicans, huge white beasts all sitting in silence on a shallow patch of ground near the middle of the channel. This was the third flock of pelicans we’d encountered on the St. Johns. On the second day I was transfixed at the sight of a flock of 150 pelicans soaring on a thermal seemingly thousands of feet in the air. These birds are among the many species that follow the shad that migrate into the upper St. Johns in the winter during the spawn. We paused to photograph the pelicans today, finally having them at close range. After a few minutes they filed into the water and swam away from the harassment.
The wind picked up and a rain shower moved across the west side of the lake. I put on a rain coat to keep the spray from soaking my right side. Eventually we turned and the wind, steadily out of the southeast, blew us across Lake Harney. Carlton and I trolled the middle of the lake with light spinning tackle. He landed his first fish of the expedition, a small gar that took his plastic shrimp imitation.

Elam powered along ahead of us as we left Lake Harney and re-entered the St. Johns. I grew lazy with the wind and current helping me along. I fished half-heartedly among a few dock pilings, catching a small bass every mile or so. We passed the mouth of Deep Creek, lined on either side by cypress trees, new needles shining, almost neon green in the afternoon sun. Massive live oak limbs hung out into the river, and palm hammocks lined either bank, slender gray trunks twisting toward the sky. Carlton marveled at the relative wildness of the St. Johns.

We let the wind take us on past the mouth of Deep Creek to a fish camp owned by Carlton’s cousin, Courtney Ward. By the end of the day we’d covered nearly 15 miles. Even downwind, when we arrived we were exhausted.
Tomorrow we will paddle Deep Creek. We are in Volusia County now, a jurisdiction that is among the most progressive counties in the country in terms of corridor issues. The Volusia Conservation Corridor is an example of locally-focused policies that can build large networks, such as the Florida Ecological Greenway Network. And protection of a sufficiently wide and connected Volusia Conservation Corridor that is effectively buffered from encroaching development and enhanced by building road crossing structures for wildlife including the Florida black bear, is essential for protection of the Florida Wildlife Corridor. The next few days will include properties that have been the focus of efforts by Volusia County policy makers and conservationists for three decades. Volusia County includes several critical bottlenecks in habitat for wide-ranging species. A male panther was documented near the upstream end of Lake Harney within the past year and the local Florida black bear population may be increasing in size and providing additional opportunities to connect to other bear populations further south. Gathering the knowledge of the planners and policy makers who worked to secure these corridor opportunity areas will make for interesting discussion over the next week. There is much to learn for all of us here.

We spent day 63 camping at Cul Pepper Bend near the mouth of the Econlockhatchee River, which flows into the St Johns River just south of S.R. 46. Our St. Johns River journey is in its second week. We arrived at Lake Winder last Tuesday.
Thus far the St Johns has been smooth. The weather has cooperated. For weeks, it seems, we have had to contend with the wind whenever we took to the water. The wind has lain down for us this past week. We are heading downstream now as well (the St. Johns flows north to Jacksonville).
We appear to have planned our route through the serpentine, many-channeled upper basin pretty well. We have camped almost exactly where we intended to camp when we drew the route back in October 2011. (This never ceases to amaze me about the expedition. I will always remember Carlton and I at 3 am night after night, sitting trance-like in front of Google Earth and cursing nonsensically at the difficulty of routing oneself through 1000 miles, 100 yards at a time). We looked for places with water and trees. We imagined the scene at daybreak and dusk. It appears to be working.
We also appear to have planned our food fairly well, which is notable only in that we organized that aspect of the St. Johns trek without Mallory, who is our most reliable food planner. Mallory’s father, Laurence Dimmitt III, is kayaking with us, however, and his food appears to be perfectly rationed and delicious. Expeditioning just runs in the family, we think. The three of us speculate that Laurence is reporting to Mallory on our various ineptitudes.
We spent yesterday kayaking a portion of our route with Florida Commissioner of Agriculture Adam Putnam and Attorney General Pam Bondi. We met Mr. Putnam and Ms. Bondi at Hatbill Park in mid-morning yesterday. A gathering of friends and family was also there to join in. After scarfing a couple creme-filled from Dunkin Donuts, we headed off downstream with our guests. It was a day long in the making. Carlton first met with the Commissioner about the Florida Wildlife Corridor in 2010, not long after the first map was commissioned. Ms. Bondi has been aware of the expedition since early 2011, before her election to AG.
Fittingly, the day was brilliant. The river was alive with birds. Roseate spoonbill, white pelican, bald eagle, meadowlark, white ibis, black-necked stilt and red-wing blackbird were in the mix. We wound our way north, with the oak palm hammocks just visible far to the east and west. The banks of the St. Johns are surprisingly shallow. I imagined the river in wetter times, spreading out over a vast shallow plain, filling the space between the distant treelines and gathering wading birds and waterfowl by the millions.
Our expedition cabinet members seemed to fit in, kicking off shoes and putting some muscle into paddling. The scenery was spectacular, and the fact that none of us have much experience with the St. Johns added to the general feeling of adventure. It is a comfort to know that these two prominent public servants have an understanding and appreciation for the interconnectedness of Florida’s natural systems. Mr. Putnam and Ms. Bondi demonstrated their committment through their presence yesterday.
We continued north until we reached the mouth of the Econlockhatchee River, which runs east out of Little Big Econ State Forest. We made our camp a little under two miles from the confluence, in a beautiful spot with a broad white sand beach rising out of one of the Econ’s characteristic oxbow turns. Here the river is lined with sentinel-like cabbage palms. In the turns we find holes 12 feet deep. This morning I caught a fat 3 lb. largemouth bass, her belly full of roe. This is easily one of our better camping spots. It will be hard to leave.

Bletia purpurea terrestrial orchid, originally uploaded by Elizabeth Smith.