The Shark Valley Slough

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Shark Valley, Everglades National Park, Florida



No sharks here, the 'valley' is rather doubtful, and what the hell is a 'slough'?

Let me start with that last question since it is perhaps the most important component of the entire Everglades. A few thousand years ago - and we are not talking geological time here, but literally about the time they were building the pyramids in Egypt - the Everglades as we know them were just getting started. It all starts with the Kissimmee River and its flow into Lake Okeechobee. That part of central Florida gets a lot of rain during the summer which ends up mostly going into the big circular lake you see on all Florida maps.

Eventually the lake overflows, but because Florida is so remarkably flat, the water doesn't channel into a river valley. Instead it just flows as a massive sheet of water several inches deep. A lot of that water seeps into the underlying limestone bedrock, is filtered repeatedly, and ends up in the Biscayne Aquifer - the major source of water for southern Florida's burgeoning population.

But a lot of it also just keeps moving slowly south, over thousands of square miles of land, until it reaches the Shark River in southern Florida (which IS a real river and DOES have sharks in it!). On its way south this huge sheet of water nourishes a remarkable ecological system, including the largest concentration of alligators in the country. When it dries up, which it tends to do by April and May, before the rains start up again, it leaves a plain of muck, covered with plantlife that is peculiarly adapted to the annual water cycle.

This plain that the water sheet covers lies between two high formations about 30 miles apart. The ridge on the east is only about 25 feet above sea level, while the one on the west is even shorter at about 8 feet. In between two ridges like that is called a 'valley'.

And hence the Shark Valley Slough!

The slough itself is dotted with what they call tree islands, or 'hammocks'. These hammocks can be of several types, one of which is created by the alligators themselves. Using their tails, they clean out the muck out of a spot which allows it to fill with this fresh water. They keep it clean in order to keep it full of water which is then a spot for them to drink, breed, and, by attracting other animals, eat. It also attracts trees and other plant life, creating little oases in the oat grass marshes.

The best way to see all this and learn about it is to take the Shark Valley Tram tour. A fifteen mile excursion, the ride goes down through the marsh, stopping frequently as the guide and the driver find alligators and birds along the way. At the southern end, one can walk a spiral ramp up to an observation tower which provides a panoramic view of the marsh as well as top-down views of a large cluster of large alligators.

We learned quite a bit about the sex-lives of alligators on this trip. For example, a hungry father will eat his own young, which is why the female kicks him out of the area after he does his part. Courtship goes on for almost precisely 18 days, at which point they either mate, or the female goes looking for a better partner. (Although if, by chance, they've hooked up before, then the female doesn't demand the courtship period and they just screw without waiting!). And we think humans represent some kind of improvement over the animal world...

Anyway, we saw more alligators on the tram tour than we could count. Our encounters in the Big Cypress the day before were perhaps more intimate, but yesterday's were more numerous. We even saw a group of very young one's, just a foot and a half long from the tram, down in the muck of a culvert.

And lots of birds. Now I'm not exactly into birdwatching, but I have to admit that there were some spectacular birds along our trip. The female anhinga is simply gorgeous, with a golden head and neck, and speckled brown wings. The male is nearly all black and dives into the water to catch fish, then spreads his wings in the sun to dry them. There were hawks, snowy white egrets, stately blue herons, and a stunning purple bird that I didn't catch the name of, but the tour guide said it was very rare and only exists in the Everglades. The variety and the size of these birds made the trip an active one - looking up to see the birds, and down to see the alligators.

You can hike or even bike this path, but in the Florida sunshine, I suggest you take the tram option. It takes a couple of hours, but the commentary by the guide was well worth the price. He might even tell you about the only known time that a person was attacked by an alligator in the park boundaries: (a kid fell off his bike, right into the canal, and on top of a sleeping male. The mom went in after him and, successfully, fought off the alligator. The Dad went to the visitor center to get help. Kid and Mom both spent time in the hospital, but they survived with a few scars. Not a way to spend a vacation.)

After the Tram ride, we headed back and drove the Loop Road in Big Cypress Preserve. More alligators and birds visible from the road, but, I have to admit, that once you've seen one alligator, in multiple sizes, you've pretty much seen them all - it is not like we are on a first name basis. Although we did have to pause for a moment while a young alligator assessed our approaching vehicle and then chose to run off the road. (Too fast to get a picture!)

As spectacular as this parade of life is here in the Everglades, it is easy to see why water is such a source of controversy. Obviously, as people flood into the beaches of Miami, they need water. But the draining of the Biscayne aquifer has gotten to the point where the freshwater is disappearing and the ocean saltwater is starting to push back in. Over the last 50 years, many canals have been built to channel the water so the sheets of water that used to flow through the sloughs no longer do their job. Wildlife is dying off and the ability of the freshwater marshes to do their job of filtering and promoting life is under severe challenge. Efforts are underway to undo many of the canals and to try to restore the natural water system. But it isn't clear it will be enough, or that it will happen fast enough to prevent the loss of these ecosystems.

On the otherhand, maybe it won't matter anyway. If climate change happens as Trump and other Repugnicans want it to, we can anticipate a six to eight foot rise in ocean levels. If that happens, much of the Everglades will disappear or become beach front property, significantly changing this part of the world. You might want to see this complicated and beautiful system now before it disappears forever. (17.1.23)

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Photos

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Wallowing

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Blue Heron

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Some Alligators Out There

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Alligator Pond

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Find Waldo

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From the Observation Tower

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The Slough in the Background

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Panorama of Shark Valley

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Female Anhinga

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Cormorant Drying Wings

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Snowy Egret

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Turtles Sunning

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Female Anhinga and Cormorant

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Purple Somethingorother

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Birds Eye View

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From the Loop Road

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Mangrove Trees

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More Mangroves

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Safely Taken from the Car!