Truth be told, I’ve never played golf and don’t know if I ever will. It’s just that after years of being surrounded by houses on zero lot lines, my wife Sherry and I longed for the scenic buffer the green space of golf would give us.
So how did we wind up living on a lake? I guess you could say some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting something unexpectedly exceptional instead.
So how did we wind up living on a lake? I guess you could say some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting something unexpectedly exceptional instead.
With close to a year of swinging and missing in our golf villa search, we decided to expand our criteria. I let our realtor know that in addition to a golf course, our next home could back up to a preserve, park, lake or pond. When a lake house turned up shortly thereafter, we pounced like a Great Egret plucking a passing fish from the shallow water.
Egrets and Heron and Deer – Oh My!
Thanks to its tropical climate and numerous wetland habitats, Florida is home to over 500 native and migratory birds. Many of these diverse species have thoughtfully given me a chance to improve my bird knowledge by frolicking in full view outside my screened patio.
“Look – it’s a suburban butternut stork,” I excitedly alert my wife, hiding my limited avian expertise behind a façade of feathery wordplay. “They’re unapologetically omnivorous and feed on frogs, lizards, small rodents, and pan-fried crab cakes.”
“That’s a Great Blue Heron,” Sherry corrects me, having Googled “Florida birds” and given herself the aura of an Audubon Ambassador. “They’re actually skilled predators that feed on fish, rodents, frogs, reptiles and small birds.”
“It’s good to be at the top of the food chain with them around,” I joke, grateful for the unearned advantage.
The egrets and herons are almost daily guests in our well-attended lake show, along with periodic visits from pelicans, ibis, sandhill cranes, ducks and Roseate spoonbills – a bizarrely-conceived creature that looks like a cross between a flamingo and a kitchen gadget.
My favorite tourists are a mama deer and her fawn, who occasionally make their way slowly from yard to yard, foraging on leaves, twigs, stems, and plants. It’s a hard way to eat more salad, but they seem to manage it.
Egrets and Heron and Deer – Oh My!
Thanks to its tropical climate and numerous wetland habitats, Florida is home to over 500 native and migratory birds. Many of these diverse species have thoughtfully given me a chance to improve my bird knowledge by frolicking in full view outside my screened patio.
“Look – it’s a suburban butternut stork,” I excitedly alert my wife, hiding my limited avian expertise behind a façade of feathery wordplay. “They’re unapologetically omnivorous and feed on frogs, lizards, small rodents, and pan-fried crab cakes.”
“That’s a Great Blue Heron,” Sherry corrects me, having Googled “Florida birds” and given herself the aura of an Audubon Ambassador. “They’re actually skilled predators that feed on fish, rodents, frogs, reptiles and small birds.”
“It’s good to be at the top of the food chain with them around,” I joke, grateful for the unearned advantage.
The egrets and herons are almost daily guests in our well-attended lake show, along with periodic visits from pelicans, ibis, sandhill cranes, ducks and Roseate spoonbills – a bizarrely-conceived creature that looks like a cross between a flamingo and a kitchen gadget.
My favorite tourists are a mama deer and her fawn, who occasionally make their way slowly from yard to yard, foraging on leaves, twigs, stems, and plants. It’s a hard way to eat more salad, but they seem to manage it.
The fawn is rambunctious, often leaving the mother’s side to explore some curiosity a few houses away. I sense the protective instinct kicking in, and in echoes of mothers everywhere I can imagine her yelling, “Hey, what did I tell you about running off? Now get your tail back here before you wind up missing like your cousin Venison!”
Later Gator
Once in a while we’ll spot an alligator quietly floating along. Some people say that living by a lake where there are alligators is dangerous. But I say driving a car is much more dangerous. Especially if there’s an alligator hiding in the backseat.
One day I noticed a gator uncomfortably close to the water’s edge eyeing an ibis that was pacing back and forth a few feet away. I hurriedly grabbed my binoculars anticipating a deadly encounter between predator and prey. After several minutes of tension-filled inactivity, I asked myself a practical question: Do I really want to witness an act of swift and brutal violence that will stay tattooed on my brain forever? The answer was no. That’s what R-rated movies are for.
Fortunately the ibis flew away, the gator moved on, and I made a mental note to avoid scenes of horrific mayhem. I haven’t watched the news in three weeks.
Going Deep
When friends come to visit they sometimes ask what goes on out on the lake.
“Can you swim in it?” No, I say.
“Boating?” Again, no.
“Can you kayak, snorkel, waterboard?” Not a chance.
When the questions run their course, I patiently explain that our lake is one just for looking at – a haven for wonderful wildlife, a magnificent mirror to the sun and moon, and a peaceful source of reflection and inspiration.
For those who crave a murkier portrayal, I tell them I’m working on a new mystery novel entitled “Looking In The Lake.”
What’s in the lake? Who is looking? How deep is the water? Are there weird fish? Is a pretty town girl missing?
I fear I’ve said too much already.
Later Gator
Once in a while we’ll spot an alligator quietly floating along. Some people say that living by a lake where there are alligators is dangerous. But I say driving a car is much more dangerous. Especially if there’s an alligator hiding in the backseat.
One day I noticed a gator uncomfortably close to the water’s edge eyeing an ibis that was pacing back and forth a few feet away. I hurriedly grabbed my binoculars anticipating a deadly encounter between predator and prey. After several minutes of tension-filled inactivity, I asked myself a practical question: Do I really want to witness an act of swift and brutal violence that will stay tattooed on my brain forever? The answer was no. That’s what R-rated movies are for.
Fortunately the ibis flew away, the gator moved on, and I made a mental note to avoid scenes of horrific mayhem. I haven’t watched the news in three weeks.
Going Deep
When friends come to visit they sometimes ask what goes on out on the lake.
“Can you swim in it?” No, I say.
“Boating?” Again, no.
“Can you kayak, snorkel, waterboard?” Not a chance.
When the questions run their course, I patiently explain that our lake is one just for looking at – a haven for wonderful wildlife, a magnificent mirror to the sun and moon, and a peaceful source of reflection and inspiration.
For those who crave a murkier portrayal, I tell them I’m working on a new mystery novel entitled “Looking In The Lake.”
What’s in the lake? Who is looking? How deep is the water? Are there weird fish? Is a pretty town girl missing?
I fear I’ve said too much already.
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Wonderful! TY.🦩🦤🐊🐸🐢🦎
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