by Ted Below
May 5, 1970, Saturday; a half hour before sunrise, I found the spot to start the Breeding Bird Census, which covered 25 miles of partly paved road S. E. of Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. Most of the land on either side of the road was still natural, with a lot of open grass land, pine forest, cypress swamp and dome. Back then very little of the area was actively farmed, but there were some old fallow farm fields, that had almost gone back to nature. It was the dry season, and several thousand of the most conspicuous birds (herons, egrets and ibis) were out in the fields, spread far and wide, feeding mostly in the few areas where the dry-down had concentrated water and fish. The census was demanding, but for the bird watcher, the spectacular display was well worth the effort.
Dec. 20, 1980, Saturday; the beginning of Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary's, Christmas Bird Count and I am doing the same area. Each year I have done a Spring Breeding Bird Census, and now I am starting a yearly census in the Winter. The area has started to change: much of the road is paved, the day of small fields is over and large-scale agriculture has come to the land. Now some of the count area has open, bare, flat tomato fields and citrus is starting to creep in from the east. One of the major roads has always been private but today there are gates at both ends (luckily open). There are still birds but fewer; they are spread out more, not only by the lack of dry-down (because it's winter) but also by the lack of natural habitat. The bird watching is not as much fun.
Dec. 16, 1995, Saturday; another Christmas Bird Count, my sixteenth in the same area. Start before dawn to call in up owls; how in the world can the owls hear the tape, or I the owls, with cars, busses and trucks screaming to work in the fields. Now citrus is not only in the east but also in the north and west, much of the rest of the land is laser flat fields, either full of tomatoes or being prepared, so that every drop of rain can be diverted from nature to crops. All of the side roads are either gated or have large "No Trespass" signs on them. The farm fields are ditched along the roadside with the dirt thrown up next to the road; this provides an excellent place for exotic plants and they grow into a barrier that hides the farm fields (and the birds now forced to use them). The few fallow fields left have cattle in them. Residences (each with its acre or two of lawn) have started to spring up like weeds. Many of the cypress domes are isolated and only used by vultures to roost on, in-between their dead cow sandwiches. The one good cypress swamp is drier and filling up with brush. And now the birds (a few hundred) are relegated to farm ditches and borrow ponds that are filled mostly by the agricultural runoff. I almost hate doing this census.
Most of us feel that free flying birds are free to roam, but now, I wonder. Are they?
First published in the Collier County Audubon Society's newsletter, Audugram, in March, 1996. Much of the area described in this article will become Ave Maria University in 2005 or 2006.