BIRDLANDS : Wildlife and Quiet Times off Florida’s Gulf Coast

When my husband’s grandfather first visited Sanibel Island in the late 1940s, he arrived by ferry, over three miles of shallow, blue-green waters, from near Ft. Myers on the mainland. There were only two places to stay on the island, guest houses where the accommodations were simple and rustic. Meals were served at set times, and there was a choice of one or two entrees, usually a local fish. Since the island water was undrinkable, each person was given a pitcher of water each morning, from supplies that had been brought in from the mainland. The tourist season lasted only through the winter; there was no air conditioning, and the mosquitoes made the island virtually uninhabitable in the summer.

My grandfather’s visits to Sanibel--a barrier island of shell-and-sand beaches, protected mangrove forests, wetlands, scrub and bayous--predated the building of the causeway over San Carlos Bay that now connects the island with the southwest Florida mainland. Before it was built in 1963, you could walk the beach for miles without seeing a building. Then, Sanibel appealed to the intrepid traveler, who came for the sparkling white beaches and exotic flora and fauna--the abundant and beautiful shells, the fishing and bird-watching, the palms and the lush vegetation.

Many tourists nowadays say that they want the island to be the way it was. But of course they do not want to do without the comforts and amenities they have come to expect. Because Sanibel originally attracted people who were passionate about its distinct ecology, its development has been more carefully managed than elsewhere in Florida.

Sanibel’s year-round population is 5,000; but during the tourist season, from Christmas to Easter, it’s about 20,000. Casuarina-lined Periwinkle Way, west of the causeway road, is the main commercial district, with a number of upscale shopping centers. Many of the beach-facing hotels and condominiums are along Middle Gulf and West Gulf Drive, but Periwinkle Way east of the causeway to Lighthouse Point also has hotels and condominiums. Private homes are located in developments such as Shell Harbor, south of the causeway, and scattered throughout the island except, of course, in the protected areas.

Just as the Atlantic coast of Florida appealed to people from the Northeast, the Gulf Coast historically attracted Midwesterners, and many Sanibel Islanders have come from Ohio, Michigan and Illinois. In recent years, the island has been discovered by Europeans, and it’s not uncommon to hear foreign languages--French, Dutch and especially German--and British accents. Sanibel has become a full-fledged tourist resort, and recreational possibilities abound: two golf courses, tennis courts galore, bike trails and boat and windsurfing rentals. At the end of Sanibel’s western tip, linked by a bridge over Blind Pass, is the narrow sandspit of Captiva Island.

Protected lands, both private and public, account for about 45% of the island’s area, and those who want to see Sanibel-the-way-it-was should visit the J.N. (Ding) Darling National Wildlife Refuge and the Island Nature Center, both in the center of the island. The Corkscrew Swamp Nature Sanctuary, the “crown jewel” of Audubon Society preserves, is about 50 miles southeast of Sanibel on the mainland near Immokalee.

The Darling Memorial Wildlife Drive is a five-mile, one-way dirt road through the bayous and mangrove forests of the wildlife refuge that can be traveled by car (speed limit: 15 m.p.h.), by bike or on foot. It costs $3 per car and $1 for cyclists and is open from dawn until dusk. Under a new policy, it is closed on Fridays--to give the wildlife a rest. Established during the Truman Administration, the refuge was dedicated in 1967 to the late Pulitzer-Prize-winning political cartoonist, head of the U.S. Biological Survey and conservationist Jay Norwood Darling, who was instrumental in buying land for preservation. The road itself is actually the top of a water control dike constructed in the early 1960s as part of a mosquito control project. There’s a visitors center near the entrance to the drive.

In the 15 years that I’ve been visiting Sanibel, foot trails off the drive have been added, but essentially the refuge has remained the same. To see the herons, egrets, pelicans, ospreys, kingfishers, skimmers, magnificent frigate birds--to name a few--is usually enough to transform an apathetic observer into a bird-watcher. The water birds are not only beautiful and interesting to watch, but also are large enough to learn to identify easily. The best times to visit the refuge are at sunrise and sunset, when the wildlife is most active. Try to give yourself at least an hour--it’s not the kind of experience to hurry through.

In a rose-colored twilight at once so sheltering and immense that it seems like an expansion of time, I watch from along the drive the sinuous spine of an alligator swimming in placid water--a hint of menace in a vision of grace. I spy an anhinga craning its neck out of the water like a snake, its body submerged, and another perching in the mangroves, with its black-and-white wings spread to dry. This bird secretes no oil, and so must let the water collected in its feathers evaporate in the air.

Sanibel Island is a strange landscape. Here the forests emerge right from the sea. The mangroves’ roots are like tangled wires arching high above the water, with oysters clinging to them. The tide is out, and on the flats I watch a flock of roseate spoonbills, whose color appears to stain the water pink, leisurely feeding with the sideways swish of their bills breaking the liquid surface. Ibis are feeding also, delicately poking their long curved bills in the shallows and the mud. Against the horizon, motionless, stands an American egret, tall and stately. Closer to me, a Louisiana heron squawks, making a commotion as it flaps its wings in its typical dance. Grave and largest of all, a great blue heron stands so still that I almost miss it despite its size.

One of the foot trails in the refuge, the 1/3-mile-long Shell Mound Trail, leads over hammocks that were actually the garbage dumps of the original Sanibel Islanders, the Caloosa Indians. Here they piled the discarded shells from the quantities of shellfish that they consumed, gradually forming extensive elevations in the low ground that served as shelter during hurricanes and heavy storms. These early inhabitants found a land so teeming with life that they never developed an agriculture. The basis of their diet was a gruel made from the roots of cone-bearing cycads, among the most ancient of living plants. They fished the sea and hunted the birds and ate the varied tropical fruits. They were particularly fond of turtles. In the unsparing words of a notice placed by refuge personnel, the Caloosa Indians are “now extinct,” but the hammocks they created still remain, as do the plants and the wildlife that sustained them.

Motorboats are not allowed in the refuge, but for those who are interested in exploring its deeper reaches by water, there is a two-mile-long Commodore Creek Canoe Trail that leaves from Tarpon Bay Marina off Tarpon Bay Road in the eastern part of the refuge. Canoes are available for rental at the marina. The trail is marked and leads from Tarpon Bay through canals in a red mangrove forest to shallow Mullet Lake in the heart of the refuge.

On a hot day, the shade of the mangroves is cool and soothing. The water is a dark red-brown, stained by the tannin of the mangrove leaves. Silently gliding in a canoe, listening to the peaceful splash of water dripping from the blade of the paddle, I have imagined myself a Caloosa or perhaps a trapper traversing a primeval world. Here one may see herons or egrets hunting or exploring. There are osprey nests over Mullet Lake, and I’ve often watched these magnificent fishing hawks soaring far above or alighting with a fish clutched in their talons.

Just south of the wildlife refuge along the Sanibel-Captiva Road, and also well worth exploring, is a 207-acre freshwater wetlands nature center with about five miles of maintained trails. Managed by the Sanibel-Captiva Conservation Foundation, the nature center is the only remaining freshwater wetlands on a South Florida barrier island.

For $1, one gains admittance from a visitors center with excellent exhibits describing Sanibel’s ecology and charting the island’s development. The back door of the center opens to a boardwalk over marshland that leads to the system of trails. At the end of the boardwalk, one finds oneself in a pine forest. There are dead trees whose trunks are rigid gray and silver, with young fluffy pines starting up around them. Filling the spaces under the larger trees are sabal palmettos, their spiky fans drooping to the ground, blue-green and silver-green. Epiphytes--plants that draw their nourishment from the air--hang from the trees. Along the ridge trail is the largest gumbo limbo tree on Sanibel, a native tropical tree with peeling papery red bark. The sea grape, one of Sanibel’s most beautiful trees, is found throughout the island--inland in the nature center and along the beaches. It has large, round, glossy leaves. Red-veined and dark green most of the year, they have no stems but grow stiffly upright from the branch and turn golden brown before they are pushed off by new growth and lie discarded on the sandy ground.

One windy January day, I stood on the observation tower in the nature center and spotted a river otter swimming in the Sanibel River. It was lithe and graceful, a quick dark shape in the narrow river. The tower overlooks osprey nests, and there are usually gallinules, coots and ducks on the river. One hour’s drive from Sanibel, back over the causeway to Interstate 75 south, amid orange groves and truck farms, is the northern remnant of what was once the Big Cypress Swamp of southwest Florida--now the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary. It has this country’s largest remaining stand of virgin bald cypress--the oldest trees in eastern North America. Some are 130 feet tall, with circumferences of 25 feet. Core samples reveal them to be 700 years old.

Visitors to the sanctuary traverse a two-mile-long boardwalk over the swamp. Last November, I visited Corkscrew for the first time in three years. In all, I’ve been to the sanctuary about 10 times in the past 15 years, during all seasons of the year. Joel Rhymer, the assistant manager of the sanctuary, cordially welcomed our family party of five--my husband and me, my daughter, sister-in-law and nephew--to the visitors center. Rhymer told us that, except for some cypress needle debris, Hurricane Andrew, which devastated southeast Florida last Aug. 24, left Corkscrew virtually untouched. The drought of 1989-1991 broke in 1992, and rainfalls last May approached record amounts. Last year there were 1,200 pairs of nesting wood storks that fledged 2,750 young, the most since 1976.

A good time to visit Corkscrew is when the wood storks are nesting, during the late winter and spring. They construct their large stick nests high in the tops of the bald cypresses, and it’s often hard to see them up there. But it’s impossible not to hear them, for they make quite a racket, especially the chicks clamoring for food. The wood storks fish by feel. Standing in shallow water with their beaks submerged, they move their feet to stir up fish. When a fish moves against their beak, they snap it up, in a reflex that is the fastest among all the vertebrates.

As we walk over the boardwalk, lizards, shiny black skinks and bright green anoles cross our path. Many species of ferns are abundant in the swamp, from the delicate resurrection fern to the large leather fern. There are also numerous epiphytes growing on the cypresses and other trees; Spanish moss, bromeliads, orchids. On this visit, for the first time I see a limpkin, a large dark brown bird with white flecks in the plumage and a long straight bill. It is intently eating an apple snail.

Toward the end of the walk, we approach Lettuce Lake, one of my favorite features of Corkscrew. This meandering lake, traversed in two places by the boardwalk, gets its name from the water lettuce that floats freely on the top. The plant bears no relation to the vegetable; it only looks like it. In late spring I have seem as many as a hundred baby alligators there, posing on logs and lying on top of a few grand old behemoths. I’ve often watched a little blue heron or a snowy egret carefully pick its way over the delicate lettuce, balancing on its surface, and thought of how a heavier creature would certainly sink.

Sanibel’s main attraction is its beaches. Of white sand and crushed shells, they are not only beautiful, but they harbor more life than any other beaches I have seen, including the northern Florida Panhandle and its eastern shores, the beaches of New England and the middle Atlantic states, the California coast from San Diego to Pt. Reyes, and the European beaches from Ireland to Greece.

The best time to go beachcombing is at dawn, particularly when low tide corresponds with the sunrise. Sometimes I wonder why I’m waking up so early on my vacation, gulping down a cup of coffee and rubbing sleep from my eyes. But once I get to the beach I’m happy, with the sky pink and gold, the fresh breeze, the busy birds and the sun coming up. Gulls, sanderlings and terns scatter before my steps. I’ve often seen bottle-nosed dolphins swim close to shore.

The waters off Sanibel are nearly opaque because of the quantity of fine, suspended sand, so that waders and swimmers should watch out for stingrays, particularly during the late spring and early summer. There usually are many people walking along the water’s edge, intent in their search for unbroken shells. Theories explaining the abundance of shells have to do with the flow of water around this east-west barrier island with its south-facing beaches. Since there’s no other land mass south of Sanibel, the shells from the rich beds of the gulf will only wash ashore here. Sanibel law prohibits anyone from taking more than two live shells. Not only is it destructive to the island’s ecology, but it’s a messy and smelly business to kill the creatures, so most people only collect the empty shells--of which it is entirely legal to carry off as many as you wish.

Most of the condominiums and hotels along the island’s southern perimeter have beach frontage. There are also several public access beaches with parking. Gulfside Park, off West Gulf Drive and Casa Ybel Road, is a good shelling beach. Farther down the road, at the intersection of West Gulf Drive and Tarpon Bay Road, at the island’s southernmost point, is Tarpon Bay Beach. At the eastern end of Sanibel is Lighthouse Point, famous for its century-old lighthouse. Its pier is a popular place to fish. Turner Beach up at Blind Pass, which separates Sanibel from Captiva, is a wonderful place to watch the sunset and one of the few beaches with a steady surf and a steep drop, which makes it pleasant for swimming.

But perhaps the most beautiful beach on Sanibel is Bowman’s Beach, which is southeast of Turner Beach off the Sanibel-Captiva Road. Actually a peninsula, Bowman’s is a protected beach, part of the Lee County Parks System. (Lee County includes Sanibel, Captiva and Ft. Myers and Cape Coral on the mainland.) It offers a taste of what the beaches on Sanibel were like 30 years ago--a shoreline uncluttered by signs of human habitation. The white sands are bordered by dark green Australian pines known as casuarinas.

Over the years I’ve had many memorable times on Sanibel, but one day in particular stands out. On the first warm, fine day following a cold and dreary Thanksgiving week in 1991, my husband and I launched our portable kayak from the beach at the northern tip of Captiva. As we paddled across Redfish Pass to North Captiva--a small, still-wild island that was our destination, we found ourselves accompanied by three bottle-nosed dolphins. They came so close to us that I could distinguish the scars and other individual marks on their faces. We were excited but also apprehensive; however, we soon realized that their attitude toward us was one of friendly curiosity. Our kayak was--so I observed--the only unmotorized craft around, and perhaps its black rubber hull, not so dissimilar, after all, from the dolphins’ skin, had captured their interest.

Swimming abreast, maintaining a constant distance of about three feet from us, they accompanied us most of the way to North Captiva before they turned back. That kayak trip is as close as I’ve come to swimming with dolphins, but perhaps one day I’ll realize this dream. On Sanibel it seems possible.

GUIDEBOOK

For Whom Sanibel Tolls

Getting there: The closest airport to Sanibel is the Ft. Myers International Airport. American has a direct flight; Delta, United and Continental offer connecting flights between LAX and Ft. Myers for about $340 for round- trip, 14-day advance-purchase coach fare. Most major car rental agencies are represented at the airport. The causeway toll to Sanibel is $3.

Where to stay: Most accommodations on Sanibel and Captiva are upscale. There are 86 condominium complexes, hotels and resorts, with prices ranging $1,000-$3,800 a week for one- and two-bedroom condos during high season. High season is variously defined as Christmas to Easter, or Oct. 1-May 1. Savings during low season can be 40%.

The recently renovated Casa Ybel on West Gulf Drive (telephone 800-237-8906 or 813- 472-3145), one of the island’s oldest resorts, has one-bedroom condos for $160 per night in low season, $290 in high; a two-bedroom is $195 per night in low season, $345 in high.

South Seas Plantation on Captiva (P.O. Box 194, Captiva Island, Fla. 33924, tel. 800-237- 3102) and Sundial Beach and Tennis Club on Middle Gulf Drive on Sanibel (tel. 800-237- 8906) are premier resorts with luxury prices similar to or higher than Casa Ybel.

Those on a tighter budget may want to stay in Ft. Myers Beach or in Ft. Myers proper, where prices for a hotel room for two ranges $65-$180 a night on the beach in high season, $30-$100 in town in high season to $45-$80 on the beach, low season, and $30-$55 in town, low season.

For RV travelers, Periwinkle Trailer Park (tel. 813-472-1433) is a beautiful, privately owned trailer park with private aviary; about $26 a night plus tax per site, double occupancy, full hookups.

Those seeking rustic accommodations may be interested in the wooden cabins in Cayo Costa State Park, an otherwise-deserted small island with great shelling. Cabins are $20 a night for up to four people, no electricity, no kitchen, no water. For reservations, call (813) 964-0375. To get there, travelers rent their own boats or use a water taxi from Captiva. Call (813) 283-0015.

What to eat: Local specialties include shrimp, stone crab claws and fish such as red snapper, snook and mackerel. There are many restaurants on the island, with full dinners for one, not including alcohol, running $15-$20 or less for a casual eatery, mid-range $20-$30 and expensive $30-$50. In the latter category are the Bubble Room on the San-Cap Road in Captiva, telephone locally 472-5558; King’s Crown at South Seas Plantation, tel. 472-5111, and Nutmeg House on West Gulf Drive, tel. 472-1141. Recommended mid-range restaurants are The Timbers at Periwinkle Way and Tarpon Bay Road, tel. 472-3128, which also has a fish market; McT’s Shrimp House and Tavern, 1523 Periwinkle Way, tel. 472-3161, and Chadwicks at South Seas Plantation, a popular seafood buffet, tel. 472-5111. Casual restaurants include Buttonwood Barbecue at Blind Pass and Captain L’s at South Seas.

The nature preserves:

J.N. (Ding) Darling Memorial Wildlife Drive is open daily except Fridays, dawn to dusk; admission $3 for cars, $1 on foot.

Island Nature Center is open daily except Sundays, 9 a.m.-5 p.m; admission $1.

Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary is about 15 miles east of the city of Naples, off Immokalee Road (CR 846), Exit 17 off Interstate 75 south of Ft. Myers. The sanctuary is open daily; admission $6.50 for adults, $5 students and National Audubon members, $3 children 6-18, under 6 free.

For more information: The Lee County Visitor and Information Bureau (P.O. Box 2445, Ft. Myers, Fla. 33902-2445, tel. 800-LEEISLE) offers a free vacationer’s guide with a listing of accommodations and attractions. The Sanibel Chamber of Commerce (P.O. Box 166, Sanibel Island, Fla. 33957, tel. 813-472-1080) also offers listings.