On Worlud Pond

Here on the pond we've seen rainbows arch the width; spectacular sunrises, full amber moons that glow like lanterns in the dark; twilight's palette of a half dozen shades of green that Crayola hasn't yet named; palm fronds reflected in the mirror; easy rain dimple the water; brisk wind churn the current into frenzied ripples; dappled sunshine creating a cracked ice effect; leaping fish break the placid surface and descend, leaving bubbling circles in their wake; fairies dancing at dawn on mist-shrouded lily pads; a bale of thirty-some turtles swimming, and a great blue heron, silent as a watercolor painting, a ghostly sentinel in the marsh, its beak poised like a spear, waiting....

Snappy the gator reigns, but lethargic turtles doze nearby and birds saunter around undaunted by the reptilian presence. Commencing in May and running through October, a hallelujah frog chorus shatters the night from about ten p.m. until one a.m. It's like nothing I've heard before and I've not found words to describe the sound; you must hear it to believe it. On a recent visit, Grace discovered a baby alligator in the pond. She named it Flower Linnet (her middle name).

The bird list so far includes: great blue heron, lesser heron, night heron (my favorite), white egret, ibis, limpkin, gallinule, Florida mallard, whistling wood duck, anhinga, wood stork, sandhill crane, hawks, buzzards, hoot owl, and Mister Nasty (a grizzled great blue heron). Away from the pond but in the neighborhood, I spotted a bobcat dashing across the parkway. And we've seen otters at one site.

If you find yourself at Worlud Pond, please stroll around. Watch out for Snappy the Gator. He often comes ashore to bask in the sun. He might look like he's sleeping, but he can't be trusted. He's contemplating his next meal.