Mango Glades

by Bill H Myers

  I took the phone and asked, “Are you sure you want me to do that? What if I put in the wrong coordinates and you end up lost out here in the Everglades? What would you do then?”

  “I'd punch you that's what I do. Just program it. And do it right.”

  I pulled out my phone and, using it as a guide, entered the GPS coordinates into hers. After double checking to make sure they were the same, I handed the phone back to her. She looked at the display, nodded and put it in her pocket.

  Giving her pants one last tug, she tightened her belt and said, “Let's go.”

  We'd agreed the night before we would follow the marked trail for about a mile until it split at Sandy Road. From there we'd take the smaller trail going west and follow it for a quarter mile. Then we'd leave the marked trail and use the GPS to guide us through the thick tropical undergrowth until we found the panther nest.

  Lori was in a hurry. She walked ahead and waited for me at the trail head. A sign there read, “No Motorized Vehicles Beyond This Point.” Just to the right of the sign, in the center of the trail, a thick metal post was set in concrete. It would keep cars or trucks off the trail but left enough room for motorbikes and ATVs to squeeze through.

  This made sense. The rangers had ATVs and would need to get on the trail when doing maintenance or on rescue missions.

  We didn't have the luxury of an ATV. We were on foot. Fortunately, being the dry season and still early spring, the weather was pleasant. Temps were in the middle seventies with almost no humidity. An uncommon weather combination for this part of Florida. It was going to be a good day for a walk, even if the walk took us deep into the Everglades.

  It looked like the trail had started out as a one-lane road, probably used by hunters. It had been carved out of the tropical undergrowth and was now bordered on both sides with scrub pines and pin oaks. Branches from the trees met overhead providing a shady canopy. They partially blocked the bright sun, keeping part of the trail cooler.

  Lori was waiting for me when I reached the trail head. She said, “See if you can keep up.”

  She headed out, walking fast. I caught up with her quickly and stayed a few steps behind.

  Because we knew we had a mile of trail before we got to the Sandy Road cutoff, there was no need to check the GPS or refer to our Google Earth printout. We just needed to follow the trail until it split.

  Five minutes in, the scrub pines and pin oaks bordering thinned out. Instead of a solid canopy of tree branches providing unbroken shade, gaps now let the sun filter through, lighting up parts of the path.

  I called out to Lori who was a few steps in front of me. “I need to stop for a minute.”

  She turned. “You tired? Already?”

  “No, my boot came untied. Just give me a minute.”

  I bent over to retie the lace. It only took a few seconds, but while looking down, I saw something interesting. Paw prints.

  “Lori, come check this out.”

  “What?”

  I pointed to the ground in front of me. “Come look.”

  She shrugged, not happy we were stopping. But her curiosity got the best of her, and she came over to see what I had found. When she got close, she dropped to her knees to get a better look.

  She looked up at me. “Panther.”

  “How can you tell?”

  She pointed at the track. “Panther tracks have four toe pads, and the heel pad is squared off at the top.”

  She used her finger to point out the toe pads and the squared off the top of the heel. “There are no claw indents. If these were dog tracks, you'd see indents, but not with a panther.”

  She took in a deep breath and blew over the track. A fine layer of dust was removed, but the track remained. “These are fresh. No more than a day old. Could have been left by our panther when she was out hunting yesterday.”

  Looking back the way we had come, she said, “This would be a perfect trail for a panther. Easy to follow with good front and rear visibility. Plenty of places to hide if she got spooked.”

  I nodded. “Could the tracks be from a different panther? Maybe one that's still close by?”

  She shook her head. “Could be but not likely. Panthers are territorial. They don't like sharing their space with other panthers. Even if there is one nearby, you don't need to worry about it. There's never been a recorded attack of a Florida panther on a human.”

  She stood and wiped her hands on her pants. “Walker, time is wasting. We need to keep going.”

  She headed down the trail. I followed.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Six minutes later, we reached the Sandy Road cutoff, a trail off to our left. Much narrower than what we'd been walking on and, unlike the main trail, it was overgrown with grass.

  Lori pulled out her phone and checked the GPS. “According to this, the nest should be over there, through the brush. You still have the Google Earth printout?”

  I nodded, pulled it out of my shirt pocket and handed it to her.

  She tapped the page with her finger. “We're right here. The panther nest is off to our left. If we go straight to the nest, we'll have to punch our way through a quarter mile of heavy undergrowth. But if we stay on this trail until we reach this pond, we can cut across this clearing and come in behind the nest, avoiding most of the scrub.

  “It'll be a little bit longer going that way, but a whole lot easier than trying to get through all that brush.”

  She showed me the map. “What do you think?”

  I looked at the map and said, “I think you're right. We should go to the pond and cross through the clearing.”

  Lori nodded, folded the map and headed off. This time walking more slowly, making sure she didn't miss the small pond shown on the map.

  After traveling about two hundred yards, Lori pointed to her right. “That mud hole over there. I think that's the pond we're looking for.”

  She showed me the map again. The pond looked bigger on Google Earth. But the satellite image might have been taken during the rainy season. That day, it was just a mud hole.

  I pointed at the map. “If this is our pond, the clearing should be about twenty yards ahead on our left. Let's go see if it is.”

  We headed further down the trail, hoping the tangled growth on our left would soon open up to a clearing. If it didn't, we'd either have to go back the way we came and rely on our GPS to lead us through the dense brush or keep walking the trail looking for the clearing.

  After three more minutes of walking, Lori stopped. “There it is, just like the map shows. A clearing.”

  She was right. The dense growth had opened up to a small grassy area, not very wide but at least a hundred yards deep.

  Lori looked at her map. “According to this, we go into the clearing and head west for about a hundred yards. Then we turn south and go another thirty yards. That should put us near the nest.

  “You ready?”

  I nodded. Yeah, I was ready.

  We left the trail and starting picking our way through the clearing. Calling it a clearing wasn't really doing the place justice. While it was clear of large overhanging trees, there was still plenty of belly high tropical growth that made walking difficult.

  It could have been worse. The ground wasn't wet. In the rainy season, the clearing would be a swamp filled with snakes, gators, and leeches.

  All we had to contend with was low bush briars that attacked us with each step. There was no way to avoid them. Every plant seemed to be covered with small daggers in search of our blood.

  Had we not been wearing long sleeve shirts, long pants, and boots, we would have been covered with small cuts and scratches. The kind of wounds you don't want while walking through the Everglades.

  We continued to push our way through the clearing until it was no longer a clearing. Our path was blocked by a stand of tightly packed palmettos. Lori pulled out her GPS and checked the display.

  She pointed to her left. “That way. About thirty yards.”

&
nbsp; I followed as she pushed her way through, letting the GPS guide her. We reached a small clearing and she stopped. “This is the place. The panther nest and the kittens should be close by.”

  Pointing to a clump of trees, she said, “It's probably in there.”

  I took a step toward the trees, but Lori stopped me. “We have to be careful. The kittens are small and hard to see in the underbrush. Stand still while I check things out.”

  She crouched down and slowly scanned the underbrush in front of her. I stood motionless, trying not to break her focus.

  “I don't see it,” she said. “It should be right in front of me.”

  Pulling out my phone, I checked the GPS. It showed we were close but still not at the right place. “Lori, my GPS shows we're not there yet.”

  She stood. “Let me see that.”

  She took my phone and compared the display to hers. “They're different. Mine shows it should be here. Yours shows it over there. Which one is right?”

  I shook my head. “They're both probably a little off. Maybe we should check between the two points.”

  “Good idea. I'll lead the way. Keep your eyes open and be careful where you step.”

  She took six steps then stopped. She crouched down and carefully scanned the scrub in front of her. Then she pointed. “Over there. See how the grass is pushed down in front of those bushes? That could be a trail leading to the nest. I'm going to go check.”

  She got down on her knees and starting crawling toward the trail.

  “Lori, wait. I've got gloves in my backpack. You want 'em?”

  “Yes.”

  I tossed her the gloves then asked, “What about a flashlight? I've got one if you need it.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, bring it here.”

  I stepped over and handed her the light. She took it and said, “Stay here and watch my back. I'm going to follow the trail into the bush. If I need your help, I'll call out.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Down on her hands and knees, Lori had a panther's eye view of the terrain. Ahead of her was a slight clearing bordered by tall saw grass with a faint trail leading into the bush.

  Standing ten steps behind her, I kept a watchful eye on our surroundings. We were out in the Everglades, and there was always the chance a gator or bear could be lurking nearby, seeing us as either a meal or a rival to be challenged.

  So far there were only the birds overhead. They chattered above us, probably wondering what we were doing on their turf. I wondered the same thing.

  There was little doubt that larger wildlife lived nearby, and they were expert at hiding among the surrounding tropical. Lori knew this and that's why she had me stand guard as she inched her way down the almost invisible path of downed grass to what she suspected was the panther's den.

  After crawling for several feet, she stopped moving. At the same time, the birds nesting in the trees above us became quiet. Something was happening.

  Concerned that a predator might be moving in on us, I scanned our surroundings, looking for signs of movement or anything that might suggest we were in danger.

  The truth was if there was something nearby, I probably wouldn't have known it until it was too late. Predators don't usually announce their intentions before they attack.

  Just as suddenly as the birds had stopped chattering they started up again. Whatever had spooked them had gone away.

  I called out to Lori, “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I'm fine. I think I found the nest. I'm going in.”

  Without waiting for me to reply, she dropped to her belly and began squeezing into an opening between two palmetto bushes. To me, the opening didn't look like a nest. Just a dark hole between two bushes.

  She'd told me the nest would look like a small tunnel with bushes on all sides. Getting down on my knees, I could see that what Lori was heading into did look like a tunnel. A very small one. The grass leading to the entrance was flattened, suggesting it had been traveled on.

  If this was the nest, the mother panther had chosen a good location. The sharp spines of the palmettos surrounding it would discourage attackers from the sides and rear, while the tall grasses at the front would hide the entrance.

  As Lori crawled deeper into the nest, it was getting harder and harder to see her. The sawgrass that concealed the entrance was hiding all but the back of her pants. If she crawled much further, I'd lose sight of her.

  Realizing that what I was witnessing was something most people would never see, I pulled out my phone and snapped off several photos. They showed Lori's backside, wearing pants three sizes too large, crawling into a panther's den in the Everglades.

  I continued to snap photos as Lori crawled deeper into the nest. It wasn't long before all I could see was the bottom of her boots. She hadn't said anything since entering the nest, and I didn't want to disturb her by asking how she was doing.

  Not knowing what else to do, I shot more photos of her and the surrounding area, keeping my eyes peeled for gators, bears and other wildlife.

  After getting plenty of photos, I turned my attention back to Lori. I could still see her boots but nothing else. She was deep in the nest and had stopped moving. Maybe she'd found what she was looking for and was trying to coax one or more of the kittens into leaving with her.

  Ten minutes after she had crawled in, she started squirming her way back out. Wiggling side to side and pulling with her toes, she moved backward an inch at a time. She was struggling but making progress.

  I figured if she needed my help, she'd ask for it. Since she hadn't asked, I did the only thing I could think of. Shoot more photos. I was hoping that when she got out of the nest, she'd have panther kittens in her arms and I'd get the shot of a lifetime.

  But it wasn't to be. When she got all the way out, she stood, and her arms were empty. She shook her head and said, “They weren't in there.”

  I lowered my cell phone. No need to shoot photos showing the disappointment I saw in her face.

  She pointed to the bushes behind her. “This is the panther's nest. All the signs are there. It looks like she had two, maybe three kittens. But they're not there now. Either she's moved them or something got to them.”

  She walked over to me and brushed the dirt off her shirt. “I can't believe they're gone. It's only been a day since the mother left. The kittens should still be there.”

  I nodded. “Maybe we should check behind the nest.”

  She shrugged. “We can do that, but I don't think we'll find them back there. The nest is pretty well built. The back is solid brush. If the kittens left, they went out the front.”

  I nodded. “Okay, let's say the kittens did crawl out the front. They could be hiding under those palmettos.”

  Still brushing the dirt off her shirt, she said, “We'll check. But I need some water first.”

  I pulled a bottle from my backpack and handed it to her. She twisted off the cap and took a long drink.

  While she was doing this, I pulled out my phone. “I took some photos while you were in there. I think you'll like them.”

  I handed her the phone and watched as she scrolled through the images.

  Seeing that most them showed her backside, she said, “You're going to delete these, aren't you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I'm not. Those are the best ones. They show your good side.”

  She continued scrolling through the photos then stopped at one that caught her attention. She zoomed into the image and asked, “Where'd you shoot this one?”

  I looked at it then pointed to a downed pine tree. “Over there. By that clump of grass.”

  She looked at the photo again and smiled. “That's not a clump of grass. That's a panther kitten.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Lori carefully made her way over to the downed slash pine, where the kitten had appeared in the photo. She pointed to a tiny clump on the ground. “There it is.”

  When she bent over to pick the kitten up, it opened its mouth and squeaked.
It was alive. A real Florida panther kitten.

  With light gray fur sprinkled with dark spots, it had the perfect camouflage for hiding out on the sandy floor of the Everglades. From a distance, it looked like a clump of grass. Up close, there was no doubt it was a panther.

  Lori examined it. “It seems to be in good health. Probably hungry and dehydrated. But it's alive, and we found it.”

  I used my phone and shot several photos of Lori holding the kitten. This was a moment we'd never forget.

  After I put the phone away, Lori handed me the kitten. “There could be more. Hold this one while I look around. And don't move. They're hard to see and I don't want you stepping on one.”

  She got down on her hands and knees and started her search. She carefully inspected every bush, stump, and clump of grass in a ten-foot circle.

  I stood behind her, holding the kitten, watching for movement on the ground while she searched. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of another one.

  After ten minutes of searching, neither Lori nor I had found anything. She stood and carefully walked over to me.

  “Walker, your turn to search. Be careful where you put your hands.”

  She pulled off her gloves and handed them to me. I handed her the kitten and put the gloves on. Then I carefully made my way to the area Lori had searched, took one step beyond and got down on my hands and knees and started sorting through the brush.

  My plan was to do a grid search. Cover a ten-foot-by-ten-foot section. Going as deep into the palmettos as I could and then back out to the clearing. Then repeat the same search in the adjoining ten-by-ten section.

  I did this for thirty minutes, covering three grids. I didn't find any kittens but I'd found plenty of spiders, grubs, ants and what I suspected was poison ivy.

  I got up, brushed the dirt off my pants and turned to Lori. “Where next?”

  She shrugged. I could tell she was getting discouraged. We'd been searching for almost an hour since we'd found the first kitten. We needed to get it back to Oasis but didn't want to leave if there was a chance other kittens were nearby.