Holy sturgeon!

Jeff Summers, an officer with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, was enjoying a day on the Suwannee River with his family last Saturday when he saw a three-foot-long sturgeon jump out of the water and land in a boat that was passing by.

Fortunately, nobody was hurt, except the fish of course. The boat sustained some minor damage, and the fish was returned to the water, apparently no worse for the wear.

But every year about this time reports such as this start to filter in from the Suwannee, one of the last breeding grounds of the rare Gulf sturgeon. The fish, once found throughout the Gulf of Mexico, is now largely confined to the West Florida River. State officials estimate that as many as 7,500 sturgeon, averaging about 40 pounds each, spend about two thirds of the year in the Suwannee.

The fish, which can get seven feet long and weigh more than 170 pounds, have had some pretty nasty collisions with people on personal watercraft in recent years. That is why state officials urge boaters to slow down during the spring and summer months when travelling along the Suwannee.

Nobody knows for sure why sturgeon jump. One theory is that they might be engaging in some type of dominance display. Another is that the fish are attempting to communicate. But then again, strugeon may jump simply because they are happy.

(Times photo - Lara Cerri, 2006. Click to enlarge.)

The gator hunt

The great gator hunt is on, but once again, I will be forced to watch from the sidelines. For the third year in a row, my friend, the fish-catchin', frog-giggin', gator-gettin' guide Dave Markett called an told me to go out and buy a permit, but once again I dropped the ball.

As I explained to Markett, a Tampa native who knows the lakes of Central Florida like I know each and every Starbucks in downtown St. Pete, that I have the attention span of a second grader. That is why I use those little yellow stickum notes to remind me of things like buy a new fishing license or dry out that tent before the next camping trip.

But gator huntin' isn't easy. You can't just knock them in the head with a stump. You need to take this sport seriously, for unlike snook, trout or redfish, these reptiles can bite your left arm off clean up to the elbow. Just ask Amos Moses.

That is why I, being the rookie gator hunter, took a class on the finer points of how to stalk, kill and clean, the King of the Florida Swamps.

Permits won't go on sale again to next June, but you can learn all there is to know at one of several classes soon to be offered by the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commmission.

(Times photo - Scott Keeler, 2006. Click to enlarge.)

Guilty of animal cruelty

I confess. I am guilty as charged. Several times in my life, I have been guilty of feeding wild animals. Yes, this is a big no no.

But I was young, stupid, uneducated, and hey, it seemed like fun.

Chipmunks, squirrels, birds, fish, raccoons, even bears have all suffered as a result of my unintentional cruelty. But at the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission pointed out this week, giving people food to an animal is like pumping your five year old full of Mountain Dew and Oreos.

"Food being fed to animals usually offers inadequate nutrition," said Anni Mitchell, an WC biologist in Lake city. "This people food is junk food to animals."

Many of the things that we eat can be toxic to animals. Other items, such as the bones from a chicken, can splinter and actually cause death if ingested. Other foods, such as potato peels, nuts and some vegetables can actually make animals very sick.

And if that isn't enough to convince you not to feed wild animals, consider this, in Florida it is illegal to to feed sandhill cranes, bears, raccoons, foxes and alligators.

But before you think about turning me in for feeding that black bear, please cut me some slack. I was only eight years old at the time and I was a garbage dump in Maine. Hopefully, the statue of limitations has run out.

For more information on the problems associated with feeding wild animals, go to myfwc.

Pygmy killer whales

Two pygmy killer whales, seldom found in near shore waters, have been taken to Mote Marine Laboratory in Sarasota on Monday after stranding in Boca Grande Pass. One of the whales was found swimming in the mangroves; the second beached itself nearby.

It has been ten years since Mote scientists encountered this species of whale. The last time pygmy killer whales, which are black and typically no more than eight feet in length, the animals suffered from a brain parasite.

The whales, which are usually found in groups of several dozen, are sometimes called blackfish by offshore fishermen. Anglers in deep water, particularly off the Dry Tortugas, often lose their catch to these open-ocean predators.

Mote Chief Veterinarian, Dr. Charles Manire, reports that both animals are weak and have needed assistance in the water since arriving at Mote's Dolphin and Whale Hospital. The whales, which have been nicknamed Pete and Dallas, have been given fluids and antibiotics. To follow their progress, go to Mote.

(Photo courtesy Mote Marine Laboratory)

Stingers

Sharks, stingrays ... now you can add Portuguese Man of War to the list of nasty sea creatures that can ruin a trip to the beach. A Clearwater lifeguard's recent encounter with a Portuguese Man of War that left him badly burned was not a typical occurrence.

"I can't remember ever having anybody hit by one of those before," said Joe Lain, who has been the Water Safety Supervisor for Clearwater for 19 years. "I have seen them before, but this was pretty unusual."

Man of war are more common on the Atlantic Ocean where surfers, scuba divers and swimmers learn to avoid their nasty sting. Isolated specimens are occasionally observed offshore in deep water, but seldom close to shore.

"We have had a strong west wind and maybe it got blown in from the Loop Current," Lain speculated.

But Floridians should consider themselves lucky. In Queensland, Australia, the other "Sunshine State," beachgoers must contend with the dreaded box jellyfish. These "nasties," as the Aussies call them, can send you into cardiac arrest.

Twenty years ago, paddling off Cairns, I ran into a former surfer-tuned-kayak guide who met with a "sea wasp" a few years earlier and still had the scars to prove it. This poor bloke actually died on the beach but was resuscitated by his mates.

So thank your lucky stars that you don't live in Oz and have to wear a lycra "stinger" suit every time you go for a swim.

(Photo: Dozens, if not hundreds of Portuguese man-of-war washed up on the beach at Pass-a-Grille in 2003. Times -- Lara Cerri. Click to enlarge.)

Guns along the Hillsborough

Imagine paddling the Hillsborough River on a warm February afternoon and suddenly hearing rifle shots, followed by war hoops, echoing through the forest. If you stopped just above the state park and looked into the clearing, you would have seen brightly clad Seminole warriors attacking some very unhappy-looking soldiers in 1830s vintage uniforms.

No, this wasn't an episode of the Twilight Zone. This was just another day at Fort Foster State Historic Park. Reenactors from around the state gathered here Saturday and Sunday to recreate a historic battle from the Second Seminole War.

Florida was pretty empty in 1835. There was a fort in Tampa and another one in Ocala. Linking them was the Fort King Military Road. The road (more like a trail) crossed the river just above the present-day Hillsborough River State Park. U.S. soldiers built a fort to protect the bridge, which the Indians periodically tried to burn.

It was rough duty. Many of the soldiers stationed there grew sick from yellow fever carried by the mosquitoes thriving in the nearby swamps. Nature would eventually accomplish what the Seminoles could not, as the soldiers were forced to abandon the fort after the place was deemed uninhabitable.

You can see a Times' photo gallery here. You can view additional photos and read more on Friday's outdoors page, or visit the fort's website.

Outdoor dog needed

Fourteen years ago, when I was looking for good all around outdoors dog, my friend Dr. Greg Todd recommended a Labrador Retriever. These canines, bred for hunting, love the water.

When I was a boy, my family took in a stray black lab that we called Skeeter. This 80-pound brute once ate a whole pound of butter. Another time, he grabbed a pound of bacon thawing on the kitchen table and downed in one gulp, paper and all.

We lived next tot he woods and during the summer, this dog would bust loose to chase the mosquito control trucks that sprayed the nearby swamp. The driver thought my mother was crazy as she ran down the street after the dog yelling "Skeeter, Skeeter."

When Skeeter died, we got another stray, a Newfoundland St. Bernard named Nicky. My mother thought the dog had been neutered until one day it slipped its chain and broke through a screen door after a poodle in heat.

I got Lucy the Lab hoping to teach her how to surf. Instead, she liked to eat women's shoes and sleep on the couch. Eventually, I got Lucy a sister, another lab named Sarah. I tried to train this devious dog but the instructor said she was an alpha female with a high prey instinct, or in other words, a cross between Hillary Clinton and Dick Cheney, with a touch of Karl Rove.

Sarah's not herself these days, since Lucy recently headed off for that big dog park in the sky. I'm looking for another dog to keep Sarah company. I'll tell my wife it was a stray and just wandered into our yard. Any suggestions? E-mail me at Tomalin@sptimes.com.

Big Joe the bull gator

Slogging through the mud beneath a full moon on the tail at Hillsborough County's Dead River Park, my gang of elementary school adventurers wondered if we would ever find the fabled Swamp Ape. This hominid cryptid, also known as the Skunk Ape, was rumored to inhabit the wetlands that surround the Hillsborough River.

I had asked my friend, Ranger Jack Coleman, a.k.a. Dead River Jack, to make a guest appearance in his dusty old gorilla suit. But, being hunting season, he declined. So after an half hour of wandering aimlessly through the dark, I sat the boys alongside the river and told them a story about a beast that once inhabited this stretch of river.

Big Joe the bull gator was a solid 10-footer with no fear of humans. I had five separate run-ins with this swamp monster over a 15-year period. He once nearly tipped over my canoe with one swipe of his tail, but it wasn't until he started stalking Cub Scouts camped at Dead River that Big Joe had to go.

A licensed trapper came in and put out some bait, which Big Joe eventually took. But the beast did not go gently into that good night. Coleman knew they were in for a fight when the alligator bent a piece of re-bar that anchored bait to the shoreline.

Of course, my Cub Scouts didn't believe me when I told them about Big Joe (they were still looking for the Swamp Ape). That is, until the next morning when Coleman joined us for breakfast and pulled the gator's head out of a wheelbarrel.

Now my boys will think twice when I tell them to keep an eye out on the water in gator country, for no sooner had Big Joe been taken out, an 8-footer moved in. But that's life on the Wild Side.

(Pictured: Jack Coleman, a park ranger at Dead River Park, had a 12-foot-4 alligator legally trapped and killed in 1993 and uses the preserved head when talking to Boy Scout troops about the dangers of alligators. Times photo - Keri Wiginton. Click to enlarge.)

Wind but no waves

The wind howled out of the north last night so long and hard that I couldn't sleep. I get that way whenever I think there will be waves to surf in the morning.

Gulf Coast boardriders are a sorry bunch. We are so wave-starved that any time a cold front blows through, we all rush down to the beach at daybreak hoping to catch some waist-high rollers on our longboards. This morning, I dragged along my 4-year-old daughter, a future candidate for the U.S. Navy SEALS.

You may say that only a crazy man would take a little girl surfing on the coldest day of the year, but I figure she has to learn sooner than later. I dress her up in a wetsuit, booties, PFD, strap a leash to her back and then paddle out on my 12-foot soft-top with a rubber-coated skeg.

All we need is a 2-foot bump to catch a ride and, as far as I'm concerned, as long as you're standing up and moving toward the beach, you are surfing. You have to be dedicated to surf this coast. On days you think there will be waves there are none; on days when you think it will be flat, you drive out to the beach and find it is waist-high and glassy.

Some of you may think this sounds pathetic. You might laugh and say there are no waves in the Gulf of Mexico. Tell that to Shea and Cory Lopez, two millionaire professional surfers from Indian Rocks Beach who have been making a living on the pro tour for more than a decade.

But cold fronts are good for more than just surfing. This blast of arctic air will also send fish running toward the warm water of the power plants. Tomorrow at dawn, I'll be out hunting cobia.

With that in mind, be sure to check this Wild Side blog for fishing news as well as other outdoor activities such as scuba diving and sea kayaking. We decided to stop our Tight Lines blog, because it was too limited in scope, and instead adopted this format, hoping to give you a better picture of what is going on in the great outdoors.

(Pictured: Jeff Davison rides his 10 foot long board at the Upham Beach section of St. Pete Beach. Times photo - Dirk Shadd (2002). Click to enlarge.)

Cold weather fun

The weatherman says the mercury may dip below 32 degrees tonight, so that's why I'm headed home to gather my camping gear for a cookout in the woods. After 18 years on the outdoors beat, I've come to learn that you can't let little things like wind, rain and sub-freezing temperatures derail a good adventure.

I've got a trunkful of wood, my wool Boy Scout shirt and a Lodge cast iron kettle to cook some fish chili over an open fire beneath the oaks at the Fort DeSoto group campground. Ranger Jim Wilson said we should be protected from the wind but added that it might be a tad chilly.

But adverse weather conditions usually make for a better story, as you will learn, if you put this blog on your 'Favorites' list. I've made a resolution this year to do at least one thing outdoors every day, rain or shine.

Some days we may be fishing, other days we may be backpacking through a pine flatwoods or canoeing down a river. Florida has so many outdoor possibilities that the only problem I have is narrowing down my choices because, unfortunately, I can only do one thing at a time.

Tomorrow morning when you wake up and feel that cold air bite as you walk barefoot across your frozen driveway to pick up you newspaper, think of me. I'll be at Upham Beach with my 10-foot Donald Takayama surfboard picking off some choice waves with the other graybeards and silverbacks.

Sound crazy? Perhaps. But hey, that's my life. Welcome to the Wild Side.

(Pictured: Casey LaLomia builds a fire after setting up camp on a spoil island at the conclusion of day two of a three-day kayak trip in January. Times photo - Douglas R. Clifford. Click to enlarge.)