John Moran, David Moynahan and I went to Keaton Beach on Saturday to get the "best damn scallop photograph in the world" as John puts it. It was John and David's mission actually. Without their vision, I would never have come home with images like these, images that look like they are of creatures from distant planets. I had no idea that scallops were so strange looking.

You can see that three of these images are close ups. The more distant image provides you with a view of what the whole scallop looks like. These images were made under controlled conditions. We brought an aquarium of sorts onto the boat and with a complex arrangement that included an alligator clip, a dowel, a base, weights, scallops, water, sea grass, off camera flash, a macro lens and high quality Canon 5D Mark II, all three of us were able to come home with amazing images.

But next time you are able to see a scallop alive, in its environment, take a close look with your naked eye. You don't need all this equipment to see that scallops are striking creatures. You can easily see their jewel-like blue eyes. When the sun hits them just right, even underwater, the black pupils light up white, like a diamond within a sapphire! It's crazy. Once they settle down, they open their shells, and you see them "breathing" the water in and out while they feed through an intimidating but harmless maw. SO COOL!

After canoeing, biking and hiking more than 20 miles on Saturday, Nov. 14, Bruce, Buford, Rodolfo and I set out for the Withlacoochee River. On Sunday, Nov. 15, The four of us went cave exploring where Bruce had been years before. Bruce and Buford were there just for the day, while  Rodolfo and I continued on for two more days and 16 more miles. We took out on Tuesday November 17th at Hwy 44 near Rutland, Fla. Like the Chassahowitzka, the Withlacoochee is part of the Nature Coast. Slowly but surely I'm exploring every facet of the Nature Coast to learn about the beauty and the threats. Learn more about my Life on the Edge project. (Note: This link will open in a new window but you will still be within ericzamora.com)

Bruce Morgan leads the way through a landscape of limestone outcroppings covered with ferns. We searched for caves that Bruce had seen years before.

One of the features I liked best about the Withlacoochee River, and something that I have rarely seen on a river system, are "lakes" along the length of the river. The Withlacoochee can be 40 feet wide then open up to be nearly a quarter-mile across. Bonnet Lake, pictured above at sunrise, is one of those lakes.

A limpkin (Aramus guarauna) watches me closely as I drift silently forward in my canoe.

An American coot (Fulica americana).

The Tsala-Apopka Lakes are a network of water bodies adjacent to the Withlacoochee River. The lakes are separate during dry periods and connected when rainfall is sufficient. Swamps and feeder creeks also connect the lakes to the river during wet periods. For my trip down the river, the lakes and rivers were drought-stricken, allowing a tall grasses to flourish on muddy soil. My only access was by hiking. I set out one evening to explore by foot the oak stands punctuating the expansive prairie. Many of the trees in these dry, oak-dominated forests were cloaked in epiphytes. I found the most magnificent oak stand I've ever seen in Florida. The picture above doesn't do justice to what I saw. Since my trip was exploratory, and the conditions weren't quite right (because of the lack of rain), I photographed for reference only. With GPS in hand, I carefully to marked the locations of my movements with the intent to return one day under better conditions to photograph this particular oak stand in all its glory.

Sunrise on a wide stretch of river just south of Princess Lake. This stretch of the Withlacoochee was my favorite. Wide and deep, we saw no houses for 6-8 miles of river, only alligators, birds, turtles and otters.

On Nov. 14, three friends and I embarked on a bruising, skin-cutting, bone jarring adventure by way of boat, bike and foot into the primeval Chassahowitzka Swamp. This unbroken expanse of forest, one of the largest south of the George state line, is reported to have some intriguing karst features pocking the landscape. Only thing is, few people know where those features are. Hunters and the occasional game warden are the only human souls passing through. That is until we showed up. Rodolfo d'Arbelles, an old friend from high school and trusted nut-job just crazy enough for a 20-mile-plus adventure through a mosquito infested swamp, joined me with Bruce Morgan and Buford Pruitt, two men I had never met prior to the weekend of our journey. We turned out to be peas in a pod. My goal was to see for myself the condition of the swamp – the old growth cypress (if any) and rare plant and animal species such as black bear and, come to find out, orchids. The Chassahowitzka is part of the southern Nature Coast, an area I'm determined to help protect. Learn more about my Life on the Edge project. (Note: This link will open in a new window but you will still be within ericzamora.com)

Buford Pruitt (left) and Bruce Morgan situate their fat-tire mountain bikes securely in the canoe, readying them for the 4.6-mile paddle to the headwaters of Ryle Creek. There we would leave the canoes, and begin exploring the swamp via decades-old logging roads. We started at sunrise.

The prehistoric-looking wood stork (Mycteria americana) is a federally-listed endangered species. I made this photograph on the Chasshowitzka River.

I must say, photographing from a bicycle is no easy task. We ditched the canoes at the headwaters of Ryle Creek only a few feet from Zebrafinch Avenue (which I find to be a funny name because this "avenue" is just an overgrown path through the woods). We left the canoes behind and proceeded to bike throughout the northwestern region of the Chassahowitzka Swamp searching for the best spots to leave the bikes behind so we could venture by foot into the swamp. Zebrafinch is closed to the public and makes for great off-road biking. This is me in the foreground, with Rodolfo second and Buford bringing up the rear.

According to Buford, this is ladies' tresses orchid of the genus Spiranthes. Buford has studying flora, fauna, and ecosystem management for nearly 40 years both as an environmental consultant but also as a hobbyist who loves recreating in the outdoors. Science helps give context to striking imagery. No bear signs to document.

Bruce Morgan takes a refreshing dip in a karst pond. The pond is part of the Blind Creek drainage. It is neither the beginning, nor the end of Blind Creek, only a window into its passage across the swamp. We searched for the beginning of the only navigable section of the creek and found it, not too far from the pond pictured above. One day, I will return to traverse the undocumented Blind Creek.

After spending the better part of a day exploring the Chassahowitzka Swamp searching for Blind Creek, we hustled back to the canoes where we would paddle 4.6 miles back to the boat ramp on the Chassahowitzka River.

The sun sets over the Chassahowitzka River as flows from the confines of the swamp and empties into the Gulf of Mexico. This part of the Nature Coast is one of the most scenic and wildlife rich areas in the entire state of Florida, if not the US.

Rodolfo, beaten but not broken like the rest of us, unloads the canoe. We arrived well after dark, using headlamps to navigate the featureless waterway and alert passing boats to beware of our presence. 

On May 13th I have a speaking engagement for the Citrus County Council, a consortium of environmental organizations, civic groups and Home Owners Associations. I spent the weekend with the CCC's president, Teddi Rusnak, a gracious host who treated me as much like a son as a guest. Between treating me to lunch at Neon Leon's Zydeco Steakhouse (owned and operated by the nephew of Leon Wilkeson who was Lynyrd Skynyrd's bass guitar player), and a post homemade dinner conversation about the foundations of sustainable communities, I was out exploring the natural wonders of Citrus County. My only problem was there was not enough time! I stared Saturday morning (April 25) at the Annutteliga Hammock Florida Forever project site (which actually borders Hernando and Citrus counties) and found a pleasant dry, upland scrub ecosystem. Sunset saw me peddling a network of trails through the Tsala-Apopka Lake and Withlacoochee River region. Sunrise Sunday required my first visit of the weekend to the coast. It was an eventful week. Some of the best images are below.

One of the many giant oaks growing near the Withlacoochee River. 

The dry scrub-oak habitat found in central Citrus County is very important to many species of animals including several that are endangered, such as the Florida Scrub Jay, the Gopher Tortoise, and the Florida Black Bear. In fact Annutteliga Hammock, pictured above, is a crucial connector between the already preserved Withlacoochee State Forest and Chassahowitzka. If purchased by Florida Forever, bears in Florida will have a better chance of survival. 

Bartram's Airplant (Tillandsia bartramii) is very common in Florida. These epiphytes grow on the branches of many trees in coastal Florida and are currently blooming. This image was photographed near the Gulf (yes, that's water in the background) between Crystal River and Homossassa. 

Light quality during the weekend wasn't that great. Without clouds, sunlight came on strong and faded fast. So I focused more on the fine details of nature, like this fern revealing itself to the world. (Sorry I don't know the exact name yet ... you'll have to wait.)

This image was in some way a total accident. I noticed minute water droplets on large blade of a grass-like plant. In a hurry, I began shooting. But I didn't think I got anything worthwhile, or what I has hoping to get, which really shows how detrimental preconceived agendas can be to the potential successes produced by an open mind. I didn't notice this striking composition until I got home and inqisitively uttered, "hmm ... " It could just be me, but I like it, if only for the artistic value. In retrospect, I needed to slow down my pace to be more in tune with my surroundings. There are few nuances about the image that I should've done better in addressing during capture. But what the hey, there will be many more to come!

Hello, Mr. Barred Owl (Strix varia).

Three Sisters Springs flows into Kings Bay, the source of Crystal River. Although the springs might be a chilling jolt to warmblooded Floridians, the 72-degree temperature water is perfect for manatees in winter. These aquatic mammals don't fare well in cold water, and believe it not, the Gulf of Mexico, where hundred of manatees spend most of the year, gets pretty darn cold during the winter, much colder than 72 degrees. Crystal River and the first magnitude spring-fed Kings Bay attracts manatees like Tyra Banks attracts men. Except the 57 acres of filled swamp (another story entirely) surrounding Three Sisters could be a platform for 330 new homes and the sources of water bottling operation. Thankfully, the owners of the property have a green streak. They understand the importance of the springs to the manatees, who have few places left to go. They are willing to sell the property to the state for inclusion into the Crystal River National Wildlife Refuge, which was created for the solw purpose of protecting the manatee. The people who are trying to buy it have to raise more than 10 million dollars ... and they are almost there. The story of Three Sisters Springs is the quintessential Nature Coast tale.To learn more about this fascinating story check out the Web site, Save Three Sisters Springs. Expect to see more from me in the near future, especially when the manatees return around Novemeber ...