The land belongs to the college, and we had heard that administrators downtown wanted to sell it to developers. In my pre-camera days, I would have applauded that move, hoping for fast food restaurants within walking distance from campus. I could have said, "Seeya, sucky cafeteria—for good!" But after photographing at the lake, I've gained appreciation for this tiny wild area. Twenty years ago, Lake Pamela was surrounded by wetland where bald eagles nested [alas, not even the nation's endangered symbol could protect acreage so close to Theme Park Mecca]. But now asphalt, apartment complexes, and strip malls box in this thin slice of wild.
I culled the pictures below from over 200 shots during four visits. I had planned another visit, but during my last trip to the lake, a pit bull mix charged me. I don't know if a dumbass dumped the dog on the highway or if she had accompanied someone fishing farther down the path, but I decided that until I bought a can of pepper spray, I was going to work in more civilized locations.
Each photo has a unique story. For example, I discovered the snowy egret on my first trip out. The day was overcast, and I had no idea what I would find. I rounded a corner and there he stood among the lily pads. My plan was to shoot birds during our really cold months when insects would be hard to find and when lots of avian visitors arrive from states with blizzards. But how could I pass up such a magnificent bird? So I took some shots while Whitey complained about my crashing his party. When I dumped the day's haul into the computer, I loved the colors of the lake in contrast to the white feathers. I know it's just a bird in the water lilies, a shot taken by thousands of photographers thousands of times, but this one is mine.
Lake Pamela must be this snowy egret's territory, for he was there for each of my visits. The flight picture, taken on a bright sunny day [hence the blue rather than gray water], is, I realize, another hackneyed shot, but catching a bird in flight clearly is no easy task. This is a "Look, Ma! See what I can do!" picture. I also like the magic of digital photography. I managed to crop the ugly back lot of Walmart to enhance the bird's soaring freedom.
When I took this photo of the Carolina saddlebags dragonfly, I thought insect life had ended for the year. All of the plants were beginning to dry at the lake, and after walking two thirds around that day, I hadn't spotted anything to photograph. Then this little guy landed on a twig. It was breezy, and he was doing all sorts of contortions as the wind tugged at his wings. At times like this, I get convinced that as long as I make the effort, God will send me one of his creatures to photograph.Another reason I like this photo is that I am learning names. I bought The National Audubon Society Field Guide to Florida, so now I know the difference between a Carolina saddlebags and a blue dasher dragonfly.
I took the bumble bee and long tailed skipper photos one day after a hard rain. The Spanish needle [a Florida wildflower that everyone calls a weed if it pops up in a lawn] was lush and full of flowers. I like the bee photo because the fuzzy-bearness of the insect is evident. She is so different from the sports car smooth bees we see in cartoons and commercials. Seeing a bee proboscis at work is another difficult thing to capture with a camera.
The skipper was a delightful companion that day, taking the same route around the lake as I. Usually skippers are elusive. They have camouflaging colors which means birds find them tasty. They rush like over-scheduled yuppies and seem to have little enjoyment in their lives. But this one—for whatever reason—let me get quite close as he acrobatically catapulted from one flower head to the next.
My favorite photo in the Lake Pamela series is the eastern tiger swallowtail. On my first trip to the lake, the rose of sharon were in full bloom. During all my other excursions, I found dried brown seed balls in place of the lovely pink flowers. As I was heading back to campus, I saw a flutter out of the corner of my eye, and when I turned to look, there was this magnificent butterfly. Its perfect wings and ravenous hunger make me wonder if it had just emerged from a cocoon. I was honored to be there in that spot at that moment.
Taking the last photo in the series, the blue dasher dragonfly, was another magical moment for me. The dragonfly was resting on a Mountain Dew bottle. I took a few shots of him there [beautiful insect meets urban decay]; then I politely requested that he move. And he did! He flew to the drying primrose willow and let me get close enough to photograph even the hairs on his legs. I've since noticed that when I ask politely and express my gratitude afterwards, many insects will happily pose in a more aesthetically pleasing way. I love that his eyes glow with the reddening leaves.Although I would love a Taco Bell or Subway within walking distance of campus, I prefer the birds and insects and this tiny wild oasis a few steps from my office.
