I was looking forward to another collection trip today; but unfortunately my plans were scrambled due to car troubles in a most inopportune location. The first sign of “something ain’t right” came about one mile before the end of the Florida Turnpike. The car fails to get power for a split second, and then the speedometer stops working. I pull over at the nearest service station, and assess the situation. The car is making a bit more noise than usual, but still running otherwise normally. A decision must be made; it’s either a 45 minute drive back home, or 75 more minutes down south to water, boats, and underwater. Naturally I make the foolishly optimistic decision to take a chance and go for it all the way. The only lingering issue is the malfunction of the speedometer. Normally this might not be a big deal, but this is the Keys, and a minor 6 mph overestimation of speed can result in blue lights and a hefty fine. Just my luck, a Florida Highway Patrolman (FHP), pulls right up behind me as I enter the ’18 mile stretch’. No idea how fast I am going (and no car in front of me to provide me with cover), but I err on the side of “not too fast” (but not too slow either…), and he passes me in due time. Not 5 minutes later, a hidden cop pops out of nowhere and pulls over the guy directly in front of me (he had passed me pretty quick though). I’m tellin’ you, don’t speed in the Keys, it just isn’t worth the trouble…
I am able to continue my drive without incident for another 10 miles or so before the minor noise, becomes a horrible noise, and the tachometer revs up to 3500 rpm even though I am clearly losing power. What makes matters worse is that this happens, not only along the uninhabited “18 mile stretch” of US1 (the length that drives through the Everglades between Florida City and Key Largo) but right in the middle of heavy construction. No safe shoulder to pull over on, and bottlenecks of traffic.
The car won’t go faster than 20 mph, and that’s with the engine revving dangerously, but I’ve got to find a safe place to pull over. I know that construction continues for several more miles, so I decide to turn around and head north with whatever power I got left. Hazard lights on, I pull over whenever a stream of cars bullies up behind me. I’m that guy; so slow its dangerous. But at least I’m a considerate dude. I know what it’s like being stuck behind a laggard on a one-lane highway with no place to pass. Mega bummer.
Fortunately, I am able to make it out of the construction zone, over a canal, and off on a dirt access road turn-out. If you drive a car with more than 200,000 miles on it, it seems a wise idea to not just have AAA, but AAA plus. That’s 100 miles of towing capability without cost. Worthy insurance, as proven today. So if I’m going to have to call and wait for a tow truck, I might as well see what sort of wildlife lives in this here canal…
I lucked out in the fact that I pulled off on the Southern Everglades Trail. Potentially interesting. But apparently a bunch of folks didn’t get the memo about this being a national park and all, and apparently mistook it for a garbage dump. Look at all the good time you can have with a couple cases of Bud Light, a dirty mattress, a busted TV, and piles of other people’s waste. Party down. Woo hoo.
More curious was the garbage bag full of decaying honey combs, or wasp nests, or some sort of stinging insects’ colony. How and why does this get here, in the middle of nowhere?
The canal is rather interesting. Quite a few fish, although many of them are clearly non-native. Noted fishes include:
Spotted tilapia (Tilapia mariae)
blue tilapia (Oreochromis aureus)
acara cichlid (Cichlasoma bimaculatum)
Mayan cichlid (Cichlasoma urophthalmus)
peacock bass (Cichla ocellaris)
These species, along with plecostomus catfish (Pterygoplichthys multiradiatus), oscars (Astronotus ocellatus), and probably dozens of less established species, inhabit the canals of South Florida. For an aquarist such as myself, these canals provide endless discovery and fascination with the possibility of finding new exotic fishes. However, the reality is that for every exotic fish in a canal, it probably means that one less native can live in the same habitat. And too be honest, the novelty of these exotics, don’t seem so exotic anymore. Where the bowfin (Amia calva) at?
Most of these exotics were released either directly from ornamental fish farms (by accident? Storm? Carelessness?) or from aquarists who decided that ‘Oscar’ needed a bigger home. As aquarists we need to take better responsibility for actions like this. We are already potential targets, no need to paint on the bullseye.
Now, that said, the government of Florida can’t absolve itself completely from blame when it comes to exotic introductions in the Sunshine State. For instance, peacock bass were introduced on purpose to “control the tilapia” and provide a new game fish for anglers and tourists. ‘Extensive studies’ suggested that this would not be detrimental to South Florida ecology. Easy enough to say about an attractive game fish that attracts $8 million dollars worth of fishing tourism to the state economy. I’m sure that peacock bass are discriminating in their taste for only tilapia and other exotics, whereas the smaller predatory oscars are terror redefined to unleash upon native ecosystems. I’m not buying it. But they are both very attractive fish.
I see one impressively large peacock bass, easily 15 inches and 3 pounds. He seems cautious about my presence and carefully positions himself beneath some pilings, moving ever so slightly as I move to try and take his picture. He knows he is better hidden beneath the glare and reflection that obscures my view. I’m sure that he’s been hooked before. A big guy like him must be pretty wise to have avoided the frying pan thus far, judging by the number of plastic worm and tackle packaging lying around the ground.
Despite all the ‘exotics’, the canal upon which I’m marooned seems to have healthy populations of native brim aka sunfish, mosquitofish, and largemouth bass. So somewhere, somehow these fish species, native and exotic, get it figured out for themselves. Remember the doom and gloom scenarios of the walking catfish (Clarias batrachus)? Snakeheads (Channa spp.)? Let’s not forget we are dealing with an ecosystem within man-made canals, bisected by levees that dissect the once pristine Everglades. Give an alcoholic a new liver and demand that he swill only bottled water? There is no more pristine in South Florida; a melting pot of native and exotic. North meets South America. Where the new beautiful can be downright ugly, and the old ugly can be just as interesting. Silicone and plastic babes demanding organic sugar for their fair-trade coffees. Yes sir, no ma’am. Up and down trade-offs. Pay attention. That’s what makes this place such a righteous place to live.
Pardon the digression, I believe I was talking about walking catfish and snakeheads… None of these today, but some folks will claim that they were there the whole time right under my nose.
My car shakes every time a giant RV bus drives by dragging a “compact SUV”, or a boat, or both (ok, I didn’t see that today, but I have seen it before…honest). After a solid hour and 15 minutes waiting, my tow truck shows up. “The best hookers in town” their slogan proclaims. Good to know I’m dealing with the pros. My driver’s name is Robert. He sounds ‘American’, but his key chain says “Puerto Rico”. He goes on about immigration, and how our country needs to do something about it. He references some e-mails he’s received, that somehow correlated pieces of bubble gum to our population growth (one piece of bubble gum equaled 10 million people). By the end of it there was a lot of gum. His stance ends up somehow neutral, but passioned, if maybe less than primary-source informed. I couldn’t tell you whether he was a Republican or a Democrat, nor did I ask. It’s not my business. Politics is for home. He’s a good man, a husband, clearly a hard worker who takes pride in his job.
I’m back in Miami by noon. Tired, a bit disappointed, but not beaten down. It’s always a shame to miss a window of opportunity in the fickle winter months, but I’m sure I’ll be back through again within a week.
