Que paso, Hikers?

If you’ve been with me since I first set foot on the trail (OK wiseguys, I know what you’re thinking!) then you will recall Econfina Creek and the proper pronunciation of same - EE – con- FINE – uh.  Remember? 

Well, just when you think you’re fully steeped in the language nuances of north Florida, they’ll turn around and change the pronunciation of a river whose name carries the identical spelling.  Econfina – as it relates to the river originating in the wild, wooly wetlands and pine forests of San Pedro Bay is pronounced ECK-con-FEENA.  Go figure.

The trail through San Pedro Bay Wildlife Management Area follows a series of rambling forest roads carved through countless acres of planted pine and boogery wetlands.  For the most part, it’s a beautiful walk.  The roads are in great shape, good enough – I think - for a wheelchair-bound hiker to roll up more than a few orange blazes. 

There has been some settlement of these woods. I spotted several agriculture and logging operations from the road and a few “Keep Out” homesteads tucked into the occasional clearing (check the gallery for the unusual sign announcing one such hideaway).  I just minded my own business and cranked out the footsteps… all the while looking for something that resembled a “Bay.” I mean, after all, the place IS called San Pedro Bay, isn’t it?

Well, two days worth of dirt roads later, my map indicated I was but a couple of miles from leaving the San Pedro section – and me still with no solid indication of anything remotely resembling an alleged “bay.”

That is until I picked up a glinty reflection out of the corner of my eye.  Water…shining skinnyly just beyond a stand of pines cleverly planted via black helicopters flown by the by the New World Order for the sole purpose of obscuring a stand of cypress trees from Florida Trail thru-hikers.  (That one was for all of you conspiracy theorists out there.  You’re welcome.)

Anyhow, I shed my pack and weaseled my way past the “pines” and in to the cypress.  A minute later I was standing at the edge of what could only be the source of the Econfina River - San Pedro Bay.  But my smiling face was met with a reaction that rocked me back on my heels - a mass flight of sandhill cranes which before my I-Come-In- Peace arrival had been doing whatever these beautiful, long-legged birds do when we’re not around.  They were vocal in their marked displeasure at the interruption, I can tell you that for sure.

After emergency takeoff, they gathered into a formation of what must have been one hundred six foot tall, irate birds.  It was as if a phalanx of pissed-off B-52’s were circling over this becalmed expanse of whiskey-hued, cypress-studded water.  had they been loaded with bombs, this blog would not be. They scolded me with avian profanities that would make a pirate’s parrot blush, conveying their revulsion at my company, my ancestry and my choice of photographic subjects.  I mean, they were some grumpy dudes.

You know, I’ve always gotten on well with sandhill cranes.  I have some righteous history with this great and beautiful creature and I’ve the photos to prove it.  So what’s the deal with these surly sandhills of San Pedro?  Scientifically speaking, I can only theorize that these birds belong to some sort of ill-tempered sub-species not found in the literature. 

And I’ll bet you anything you want that the pronunciation of their name is completely different.

Audubon Cheers from the Florida Trail, Mike