Laura's dad is a professor at the University of West Florida. We went there to sit in on his course on the works of Cormac McCarthy, and arriving early, took a walk through the 1600-acre campus, much of which has been set aside as a nature reserve.
A boardwalk gives access to extensive wetlands.
A small, slow river meanders through, reminding me of Rancocas Creek in southern New Jersey, where my parents would take me canoeing when I was very small. The smell of brown water, the hum of insects, the warm sun on my back enfold me in a benign, lazy world.
Few plants flower in this late season; berries are the main source of color.
Snapping turtles, some quite large, lurk in murky waters. Their scummy shells could use a good scrub, an issue the groundskeepers at UWF may want to consider. Familiar with these creatures from my boyhood days in the Eastern United States, I don't even consider reaching into the water to pick one up.
Here in Western Florida I encounter my first Red Velvet Ant. It's a large insect—¾" long. It's not actually an ant, but a wingless wasp. Another creature to avoid touching.
A sign at the entrance hints at the prospect of somewhat more interesting wildlife, but we don't run across any, more's the pity.
UWF is a center of excellence for environmental studies. It prepares students for careers in environmental restoration. The wetlands we walk through are a model project, a demonstration that environmental destruction is not irreversible, a sign of hope that the planet can indeed be saved.
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