A Green Anole Departed In A Frenzy.

As I returned the water jug to its resting place amidst my camera gear, my eyes came to rest on my fly rod. Thinking out loud, I said, "I wonder if there are any warmouth perch in the ditches east of the last steel bridge." Charlie Matthews, the manager of the Tosohatchee State Reserve told me of catching some good size warmouth the previous year. I answered to myself, "Why not? Carefully, I locked my camera gear in the trunk and thrust a box of assorted artificial bream bugs, designed to entice unsuspecting fish, into my pocket. With the flyrod under my arm and a can of insect spray tucked into my pocket, I started walking toward the steel bridge. When I reached the old steel bridge a stout chain and lock greeted me, placed there to prevent vehicles from using the bridge, which had been declared unsafe to support a vehicle. It was obvious no repairs had been made for years and years. With hesitation, I started across. I'd walked across it many times with thoughts that I might go crashing through its rusty surface any time. Half way across the bridge, I stopped to watch a pair of black snakes entwined in a mating ritual, and wondered if these were the same pair I had photographed a year or two before. As I continued, a green anole departed in a frenzy from the greenery of a small cypress tree and scampered along the bridge's rusty hand rail, its beautiful green coloration in contrast to the brown rusty rail. Soon, I was back walking on the berm between the two bridges. Water hyacinths covered most of the water along each side of the road with just a few patches of open water visible. My daydreams of fish and fishing were suddenly interrupted by a crashing noise to my right, I looked up just in time to see the north end of a south bound white tailed deer as it leaped from the shallow water smashing through the brush that bordered the woods on that side. What a sight! I had to stop walking for a moment to catch my breath.

A Whitetail Deer Bouneded Away. Within minutes, I was up to the second steel bridge. It looked in more disrepair than the first. Sections of the steel grating were missing. I continued using care where I placed my feet to avoid stepping through the deteriorated grating. Approximately three quarters of the way across the bridge, I was compelled to stop walking. What made me stop at that particular instant I don't recall, maybe to gaze out through the dwarfed cypress trees into the woods, or perhaps just to daydream for a moment. Staring to my left I allowed my eyes to drop down to the water. Close to the bridge, a small pond of water formed. Across this pond, not over fifty feet away, a tiny island rose from the water amid the reeds and water hyacinths. On the side of the island closest to the bridge lay a mound of brown fur. My initial reaction was that I was looking at some deceased animal. In the blink of an eye, I saw movement. A slender furry body slithered into the water, then another and another. Otters! I was seeing otters! Two remained in the pile. Were they alive?

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