Open Mic: The Most Exciting Lifer EVER

At the Mic: Brian Monk

Brian Monk is a veterinarian, birder, photographer, and professional orchid grower and lecturer. He received his DVM from Virginia Tech in 1997 and currently resides in Ft. Lauderdale, Floirida, with his wife Mary-Margaret and his 5 rescued cats. 

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        When I woke, I had no intention of hiking through the Big Cypress. Five thirty AM comes awfully early when you have been out the night before. A quick drive through the Micosukee reservation was all I wanted to do. Alone with my coffee, I groaned as the weather alert related the fog advisory in western Palm Beach and Hendry Counties. Without question, Snake Road would be blanketed in thick, woolen fog.  

     The Big Cypress Swamp presses up against Broward, and like the palm of your hand pressed hard against chicken wire, parts of this unique habitat bulges through the border. This is important to me for one singular reason: Tufted Titmouse. On the advice of David Simpson, I had stopped several times at the southernmost part of the Snake Road exit, hoping to see or hear this species and tick it for my county list. I was zero for four, and more drastic measures were needed. The maps on Google Earth had been taunting me for weeks with another possible approach to the western edge of Broward County, by hiking in from the Hendry County side, through the Big Cypress. So I spent the next hour looking at maps and waiting out the NWS fog advisory. I found a lone cypress dome about a quarter mile inside the Broward line. The area was accessible by the road bordering a canal, accessible from 75. The map showed a series of twisting, circling trails leading from a bridge over the canal all the way to this spot.

 

The target bird, photo by Nate Swick

 

     After a few quick and unfruitful stops near the “Furniture Ponds”, I decided to scout the area I had seen on the map. After all, I didn’t even know if I could drive there. One illegal U-turn and less than an hour later and I found myself driving north on a well-traveled gray dirt road just inside Hendry County. Birds were everywhere. Warblers flew over the truck, waders stared at me from the canal banks, and two flocks of turkeys ran in front of the truck, finally exploding into the air and over the tree line. 

    When I finally reached the bridge, I was pleased and encouraged to see that the trail was wide and rutted and well-traveled. If it weren’t for the gate I could probably drive to Broward! The GPS was telling me that it was just over 4 miles to the site where I might find Tufted Titmouse. I did the calculations in my head and at 15 minute miles and time for finding the bird I could make it in three hours. It was 8 AM, the sun was shining, the temperature had just reached 70, and the trail was easy. I had nowhere to be. So I plugged the coordinates into my GPS and started walking.

        The trail was easy and the miles fell away behind me. I had to backtrack at one point about a mile in, where the “trail” was just an open patch of impassable marsh. But I had already heard the Peter! Peter! Peter! of a titmouse and my optimism was high. Again I checked my position.

     The GPS was telling me that my destination was less than 1000 yards away just through a field of knee high broom grass generously dotted with head high holly bushes. Finally. It was just a few steps away. Ahead of me I heard strange drawn out, high pitched clucking noises coming from a smaller cypress copse just on the right of the trail. I stopped and thought about it, realizing that it was more turkeys. The sound was very different from the contact calls I was used to hearing from them though. I thought I must have disturbed them.  

I heard a crash in the cypresses and stopped. Something in the bush was coming toward me. Fast.

 

photo from wikipedia

I could hear what sounded like hooves hitting the ground and I spun to face it. I was sure it wasn’t a swamp ape and I was hoping it was a deer. I saw a flash of tan and a Florida Panther leapt out of the brush!  I heard paws her hit the ground and its momentum carried it across the trail and into the brush on the other side.  I froze. The cat froze. Having worked with cougars in zoos and private collections - even helping to raise one from a cub - I could tell that this one was female and maybe 100 pounds and with no tags or collar. I could see her back with her tail twitching in the tall grass less than 20 feet from me. I thought about making noise, but chose to just observe and hope she wasn’t hungry as all I had to defend myself were my binoculars and a 400mm telephoto lens. I could feel every beat of my heart.  Five breaths later she ghosted away through the brush. 

 

     I didn’t move.  I was stunned and not wuite certain what to do next. On the one hand this was a first for me. I had never seen a cougar in the wild, let alone from less than 20 feet. The taste of metal and adrenaline was in my mouth. It was possible that the cougar was hunting turkeys, and she had no interest in me.  It was equally possible that she was interested in me, and changed her mind at the last second (I am more than twice her size). I looked at the GPS. I was less than 500 yards from my destination. She was just as likely to run away as she was to circle around and wait for me, and I still needed Tufted Titmouse. 

So I kept going.

    I walked 50 feet, turning backwards for 10 steps, repeating this the entire way. I became as quiet as I knew how to be. Another 400 yards put me within sight of the cypress dome, and my hearing became intensely acute. I listened to the birds, but watched the bush. Finally, I held up my phone and played a recording of Tufted Titmouse. I was immediately answered by a single bird – Peter! I held my breath and waited until I heard the call again – Peter! Peter!  Relief!

    I walked back out the way I had come in, checking the marks I had left on trail against the GPS. The trip out was uneventful, though it always takes longer when you think a large predator may be stalking you. Finally the truck came into view and I let out a whoop!  The old black men fishing from the bridge looked at me like they thought I was crazy.

#143, ABA Countable #136

Comments

[elissssabeth]

Great story. But the end rubbed me the wrong way...if they were white, would you have called them old white men fishing?

[Rick Wright]

I wondered exactly that, Elis(etc.)abeth.

[David B.]

The story rubs me the wrong way also. So, aside from the cool Lion story, I'm supposed to be inspired or entertained by someone playing a recording and leaving without seeing the bird?? Eh, i've read better content in my day.

The reference to the old black men wasn't cool either.

[Drew Weber]

Fun story. Having also come almost face to face with a mountain lion while birding, I am impressed with your bravery to continue on. I am not ashamed to admit I high-tailed it out! Thanks for sharing.