unusual for paddlers to spot eagles, wild turkeys, and deer along the way. On this day the great blue herons, egrets, and ducks seem to be in charge.
We make a turn, Shingle Creek widens — and there, lying like a bumpy gray log on a green grass shore, is George. His eyes are open. He’s a good 12 feet long. And he seems to have absolutely no intertest in these floating intruders.
George sighting accomplished, we turn and head back downstream — past the kayaking rental shed, under a footbridge, and past the preserved remains of a century-old Florida homestead. Low-slung and rustic, the houses and sheds remind me of the place Gregory Peck and Jane Wyman settled in The Yearling, the classic frontier family drama that was set in northern Florida.
Those modest buildings are constructed of cypress wood, the versatile and plentiful local construction material that inspired Shingle Creek’s name.
The creek becomes considerably narrower, occasionally interrupted by fallen trees. Besides cypress, the creek banks down here are also lined with palmetto palms. On one horizontal trunk, a yard or so above the waterline, sit two turtles. Oddly, they are striking the exact same pose: heads extended, their left rear legs raised as if performing some kind of Yertle the Turtle Yoga.
Were they a few miles north of here, at the theme park that changed everything in central Florida, these turtles could well be waving those feet and shouting, “Howdy folks! Keep your hands and arms in the vehicle at all times!”
That kind of vacation is fun. This is heaven.
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