Impulsive pause in daily routine yields unanticipated moment of Zen

There’s a little lake in downtown Clermont that I always admire. It’s name is Sunset Lake but a more appropriate moniker would be Lake Lotus because this small splash of water nestled in a hollow between SR 50, 12th St., Chestnut St. and Linton Ct. boasts a spectacular display of Nelumbo Lutea, a Florida native aquatic plant commonly known as American lotus.

The other day, instead of observing the water plants from the car window as I normally do when I’m out doing errands, I decided to pull over to see the yellow blooms up close. Since there is no public access to the pond, I pulled into the paved parking area of South Lake Animal Hospital located on the lake’s western shore. From there it’s only a few steps to the water.

Despite noise from traffic on busy SR 50, the lotus-filled lake proved a serene setting. A large white egret feeding in the shallow water flew a few yards farther down the shoreline when I came on the scene but its presence merely added to the beauty of the calm lake dotted with moss-draped cypress trees and yellow lotus flowers in various stages of development.

A Great Egret feeds along the shore of a lotus-filled lake

The American lotus likes to grow in muddy, shallow water along the margins of lakes. It’s an easy plant to identify due to its distinctive flowers, seedpods and leaves. 

The flowers, which bloom May through August and stand several feet above the water, can be up to 10-inches wide. They are a soft, buttery color with multiple petals surrounding a profusion of crinkly dark yellow stamens. Leaves growing from the center of a sturdy stem are large and round, about the size and shape of a party platter. Each leaf either rests upon the water surface or extends two to three feet above it on a tall, stiff stalk. Unlike water lilies, which are also found in shallow ponds and have a slice in their leaves, lotus leaves are completely circular without any cut in them at all.

As impressive and pretty as the plant’s lightly fragrant flowers and big circular leaves are, its seedpods are what drew me in. From my soggy-footed observation spot, I photographed American lotus seedpods in various stages of development.

 

Those just beginning to form were still yellow with a cone-shaped appearance while the most mature specimens were dark brown, had flattened out and were spotted by numerous large black seeds. When filled with seeds, the pods look a bit like round rainfall shower heads.

Other than their beauty, I knew very little about lotuses before my impromptu visit to Sunset Lake. Once I there, however, my curiosity was piqued. I’ve since learned that in addition to American lotus, Nelumbo Lutea is also known as yellow water lotus, alligator buttons, duck acorns and pondnut. Several of those names refer to the plant seeds, which are a valuable food source for wildlife ranging from ducks to alligators to beavers and muskrats. 

Dragonflies like lotuses too, not to eat but as landing pads!

 

But animals aren’t the only ones to take advantage of the plant’s nutritional value. All parts of American lotus are edible. 

Chinese pork and lotus root stirfry
(Photo credit: Platedwithstyle.com)

For thousands of years, people have gathered lotus flowers, seeds, leaves and roots for culinary and medicinal purposes and the plant continues today to be an essential component in recipes for many Asian cultures. The lotus flower also has a long history of spiritual significance in Buddhism and Egyptian mythology.

Harvesting lotus seedpods in Viet Nam

Nowadays in the United States, we’re less likely to be eating parts of the lotus plant than we are to be receiving them from a florist. Lotus seedpods are a popular feature in floral arrangements with the dried pods adding an attractive, decorative element that suggests tranquility.

Photo credit:  Bohemian Bouquets

Tranquility is what I was feeling after my impulsive decision to stop and look at the pretty flowers growing in downtown Clermont instead of just glimpsing them yet again from the window of my car. The few minutes it took to find a place to park and to stroll along the shoreline didn’t prevent me from getting my errands done. I didn’t miss any deadlines. I wasn’t late getting home. What it did do was make me smile. I had fun taking pictures and enjoyed learning about a plant I knew very little about before. Not a bad exchange for a few minutes of my time. 

What a tweet!

At the north end of our lake a tangle of wild fox grape vines winds up and over a mixed stand of wax myrtles, willows and winged sumac plants. When I’m out rowing, I slow down quietly to pass the north shoreline in the hope of spotting one of the small yellow birds that flit in and out of the leafy wet thicket.

Immature male common yellowthroat on wax myrtle

The birds are common yellowthroats, Geothlypis trichas, a type of wood warbler that lives in moist habitats such as marshes and wetlands. 

As I approach that shoreline, my eyes scan the foliage for signs of movement while my ears hone in on the distinctive sounds yellowthroats make when they sense an intruder. It’s easy to hear the series of sharp chirps — tschat…tschat…tschat — common yellowthroats make as well as their ‘witchity-witchity-witchity-witchity-wit’ warning calls. Finding them, however, is much more challenging.

Common yellowthroats are active little warblers. If I’m lucky, I catch a glimpse of their bright yellow-feathered throats or a male’s bold, black eye-band before it flies off to another foliage-covered perch in the low branches of the tangled vegetation.

But the other day was different.

Instead of going slowly by the thicket, I decided to stop rowing. I put my oars down to rest in the still water, positioned myself comfortably on the well-padded aluminum boat seat and quietly waited for something to happen. I knew warblers were there because I heard their calls and noticed movement in the brush.

Would the birds continue to fear my presence and stay hidden, or would they decide eventually that I wasn’t a threat and go about their normal behaviors despite my presence? It took a while, but eventually, they deemed me safe.

One bird — an immature male — decided I passed the ‘friend or foe’ test. Since I apparently presented no imminent threat, he ignored me and went about the more important business of catching small insects in and among the wetland plants.

Watch this short (3:09) video I took of the busy little yellowthroat

The diet of this quarter-ounce omnivore consists of insects and spiders. Any caterpillar, wasp, dragonfly, grasshopper, bee, ant, termite, fly, beetle or small critter that creeps, crawls or flies into a common yellowthroat’s sheltered habitat is a potential meal. Rather than hunt prey in the open, this five-inch long warbler likes to ‘dine in,’ and recent observations show there’s no shortage of food in the tangled weave of shoreline plants. The little bird I watched actively pursued one insect after another.

This grasshopper on a duck weed plant had best beware lest it become a common yellowthroat's next meal

I’ve rarely experienced as much grateful delight at being the recipient of such overt disregard. Thanks to the little bird’s disinterest in me, I was able to take a prolonged peek into the world of common yellowthroats. As I sat in my boat enjoying the view, all was good. Pesky mosquitoes paid me no heed. The temperature was neither too hot nor too cool. There was no reason to rush. I wasn’t in a hurry. And best of all, for a brief moment in time, I straddled two worlds — one avian, one human.

No reason to rush...

As much as I love watching and learning about wildlife, I occasionally fret because so many of my nature encounters occur only by happenstance. I just happen to be in the right place at the right moment to catch footage of a coyote chasing a rabbit, a bobcat sitting quietly looking out at the lake or a hummingbird sipping nectar from one firespike flower after another.

 

So much of nature photography is being in the right place at the right time

Click here to see 2 short videos and 4 posts about some of my bobcat encounters

But do I have it in me to spend countless hours watching and waiting — especially waiting — for something to happen? Probably not, but I envy those who do and admire their fortitude.

Waiting is hard. I’m an impatient person seeking patience-required results. However, the other day in a small but special way, my short bout of patience was warmly rewarded. A common yellowthroat warbler let me into his world. What a tweet!

Learning to appreciate a plant I don't like

Primrose willow, Ludwigia peruviana, grows along the shoreline of our lake. It’s a broad, bushy plant dotted with flat, four-petal, lemon-yellow flowers. The flowers bloom almost continually during most of the year.

A bee buzzes by a yellow primrose willow flower

Even though it is a flowering plant, neither my husband nor I care for primrose willow. Something about its sprawling growth pattern and invasive nature prevents adoration. We especially dislike how quickly it takes over the shoreline, blocking views and access to the water. In our eyes, it's a nasty pest, and the Florida Exotic Pest Plant Council agrees.

Primrose willow is a wetland plant that sprawls along the shoreline in front of our house

In 2013, the council listed it among the worst invasive plants. That doesn’t mean it is without admirers, especially among a particular member of the lepidopteron order of insects. The banded sphinx moth, Eumorpha fasciatus, uses primrose willow as a host plant.

A sphinx moth rests during the day and flys at night 

Adult female moths lay eggs on the underside of the plant’s leaves and when the caterpillars hatch, they grow huge on a diet composed entirely of primrose willow leaves.

Most of the primrose willow plants I saw while rowing along the lake's perimeter the other day were at least partially defoliated. It seemed like every bush had at least a few bare branches. Knowing nothing defoliates a plant as effectively as a hungry caterpillar, I rowed close for a better look. Sure enough, I spotted three caterpillars munching their way through the remaining foliage on three different branches of the same plant.

Almost ready to pupate, this banded sphinx moth caterpillar grows huge on a diet of primrose willow leaves

All three were banded sphinx moth caterpillars, distinctive because of their bright-colored, plaid-like patterns on their bodies. While each of the three caterpillars was large — three to four inches long — one looked decidedly different from the other two. Instead of having a red-black-yellow-white pattern, one caterpillar was mainly green, the same color as the leaves, with a series of thin, white swooshes and tiny black and white “eyes” on its sides.

Pretty in plaid, a banded sphinx moth caterpillar nibbles away through a branch of primrose willow leaves

During its caterpillar stage of life, the banded sphinx moth goes through five different stages of development. During each stage, its coloration changes as its body grows longer and thicker. From the look of the long, chubby bodies of the three caterpillars I saw, the two patterned insects had already reached their final stage, and the more green one was close behind.

Can you find the banded sphinx moth caterpillar in its green-colored stage of development?

Soon all three will pupate, that stage in Lepidoptera development when a larva stops feeding and becomes immobile while its body undergoes an intense physical transformation. For that to happen, the banded sphinx caterpillar must climb down the plant on which it has been feeding and crawl into a shallow underground burrow until its metamorphosis is complete and it is ready to emerge as a moth.

Once each caterpillar turns into a banded sphinx moth, it will have attractive A-shaped brown and white wings with a wingspan about four inches wide. It is slightly smaller than a hummingbird and because of its similar size and feeding habits, it is often called a hummingbird moth. The banded sphinx moth has a long furled proboscis that it uncurls to sip nectar from flowering plants, acting as a pollinator in the process. It feeds at dusk and throughout the night and rests during daylight hours on the leaves of plants.

Hummingbird moth sipping nectar from a pickerelweed flower

Learning about the importance of primrose willow to the banded sphinx moth’s lifecycle has tempered my attitude about the plant. While I still don’t like its unruly growth pattern or invasive nature, it helps to know it serves a purpose in nature. Will that stop me from hacking back as many primrose willows as I can from the lake’s perimeter? Probably not, but it does provide a bit of respect for a plant that up until now I saw only as an unworthy pest.

A small wetland: One egret and a nesting crane

If you are driving on busy Rt.19 just north of Groveland, you might miss it. With all the semis speeding up and down that narrow stretch of two-lane highway, taking yours eyes off the road can be a risky move.

But, for those of us familiar with that thoroughfare, there are treats to be found in the still-rural area.

Groveland resident and acclaimed duck artist John Harris, told me about the sandhill crane nest he noticed in a small wetland area just north of town.  This morning as I headed south on 19 from my house, I made a point of looking for the spot he mentioned and found it practically across the street from our bamboo nursery, BeautifulBamboo.com.

The great white egret is fairly obvious but see if you can find the sandhill crane's nest...

This particular swath of moist ground is a beautiful place - a small watery area surrounding a fairly large island where egrets often roost in the evening. This morning, however, in addition to one great white egret, I also found a sandhill crane sitting on a nest just as John said I would..

A closer look at the crane on her nest

Even though I know that's where they like to roost, I always find it surprising to see large birds like herons and egrets perched atop bushes or tall tree branches

Weed-eating fish cleaned our lake

Our triploid grass carp must be happy. All the rain we had in December made lake levels rise, submerging stretches of grassy shoreline in shallow water. The carp, which eat only plant matter, have been munching on this newfound fodder ever since it entered an aquatic state.

When I go for a row, I often see the carp tugging at the stems and stalks of leafy weeds. The fish are so intent on feeding, they often don't realize I'm close until I'm practically on top of them. Then they startle, making big splashes in the process, as they swiftly swim away from my aluminum skiff.

Too busy munching on weeds to notice me approaching in my rowboat

Triploid grass carp have been eating wetland plants in our lake since May 2006. We purchased our stock during a period when the 12-acre pond was so clogged with floating weeds we couldn't swim without becoming entangled in stringy plants.

Although other methods of ridding the lake of weeds were suggested — removing them by hand (impractical), hiring a company to mechanically remove weeds (expensive) and using herbicides (environmentally questionable) — we opted for the carp. The idea of stocking the lake with an adequate number of plant-eating fish seemed like a practical, affordable and environmentally sound approach.

The grass carp, Ctenopharyngodon idella, are members of the freshwater fish family Cyprinidae, which also includes the minnow, goldfish and golden shiner. They are native to rivers in Siberia and China that flow into the Pacific, but now more than 90 countries around the world raise grass carp for aquatic weed control and aquaculture.

The fish's introduction to Florida's lakes began in the 1970s as a means to manage the extremely invasive weed hydrilla. Although grass carp were successful at controlling hydrilla, their voracious appetite for herbaceous plants raised concerns. If they reproduced in the wild, they might destroy valuable wetlands, swamps and waterfowl feeding grounds. Because of these concerns, scientists developed a means to genetically manipulate grass carp chromosomes so they have three sets rather than two, resulting in the production of sterile fish. Today, triploid grass carp is one of only two exotic fish in Florida — peacock bass is the other— that can be legally stocked in fresh water once a permit is issued.

To begin the process of procuring the carp, we contacted the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission, which sent a representative to assess our situation. The FWC approved a permit for 75 triploid grass carp. We drove to a hatchery in Center Hill to pick up our stock of 10- to 12-inch-long fish placed inside several water-filled plastic bags in cardboard boxes. 

The hatchery in Center Hill

My older son, Tim, helping to unload the boxes with fish

When we arrived home, the three of our four children who were there at the time helped carry the boxes down to the lake where we opened the bags, releasing the fish into the water.

My youngest child, Toby, hefts a bag filled with fingerling carp to the lake while his sister watches

Five bags of fish ready to be opened to release the carp to the water

Looking back on pictures I took that day, I'm struck by the passage of time. In 2006, our youngest son was 14 and still looked like a gawky teen. He now is a tall, lean 23-year-old on the cusp of completing graduate school. Almost as impressive is the growth of the fish themselves. Our once small fingerlings are now aquatic behemoths approximately 36-inches long with an estimated weight of 40 pounds. 

One of our 'big guys'

Over their expected lifespan of 10-plus years, triploid grass carp grow extraordinarily large. The biggest one ever recorded weighed 99 pounds with a length of 4-feet, nine-inches. When I look at the size of the grass carp in our lake, it's hard to believe they're related to minnows.

Not unlike cattle or manatees, triploid grass carp often grass in herds

It's about time to contact the FWC again to renew my permit. It's going on nine years since we introduced our stock of triploid grass carp. I don't know how many of the original 75 are still alive — probably not many — but even those fish that have survived the ospreys, otters and alligators will soon be reaching the end of their natural life.

It may not be the right answer for every situation, but in our lake, triploid grass carp proved to be the perfect solution for an aquatic weed problem. Not only did these underwater grazers enable us to swim again by consuming the plants that clogged the water, they've also given us hours of entertainment in the process as we've watched them grow big on a diet of weeds.

I hope our carp are happy because I'm sure happy we have them.

Two grass carp swim along the shoreline in search of more weeds to eat

Read more about our experience with triploid grass carp here:
Grass carp eat lake weeds for 17 months and grow huge