“Turn off the computer, Lyn”, it whispers, “and go for a walk on the beach.” When I heed the advice, I return home tired physically, refreshed mentally, and nourished spiritually.

I love strolling leisurely on all of “my beaches” in east central Florida; and because I visit often, I am struck by how the beach scene changes. The tides, the weather, the season, the number of people, or even my own state of mind make each seascape and each experience unique.

Over the last several days, I walked on two very different beaches, separated not so much by distance, as by human use.

New Smyrna Beach takes pride in its beach, as well it should. Locals and tourists alike enjoy not only the sand and surf, but also the hospitality, activities, and accommodations of a beachside community that values its “charm.”

Twin Condos, New Smyrna Beach Florida

PSA area, Jet skies only!

I was pleased to share smiles and friendly greetings with others that were enjoying a day in the sun.

On this trip, I was amused to see a portion of the beach designated as a Personal Watercraft Area for launching jet skies without, I presume, needing to avoid bathers or surfers.

Several days later, I visited Apollo Beach in Canaveral National Seashore about 10 miles to the south of my first stop.

Agave plants in bloom, Apollo Beach

Certainly, structures are present. Some are remnants of early settlement, such as the Eldora House, now a museum. The National Park Service builds and maintains other structures, such as boat ramps or dune walkways, to help visitors enjoy the outdoor environment, from the Mosquito Lagoon estuary, (aptly-named, by the way) to the Atlantic shore.

“Leave only footprints” has a very special meaning here.

How fortunate I am! I can tailor my beach experience to my mood: festive and sociable, reclusive and contemplative, or somewhere in-between.

Apollo Beach, Canaveral National Seashore

“She who loves the beach” will always be…Lyn

I just moved into a new home that has a backyard sheltered by trees and shrubs with the potential to be very “birdy.” I can hear them twittering and see them darting into the foliage even as I type this.

As you can see from looking at part of my backyard “jungle,” it would be SO much easier to view and photograph them at a feeder rather than in the bushes and trees.

I find myself wandering around and wondering (sometimes out loud) if I should put up a bird feeder and get some of those great shots, too.

Go for it, you say? But, unlike birders that live in cold climates, I am in east-central Florida, near the coast, where winter comes and goes in a few days. We have a few days or maybe a week of cold weather, and
then it warms up. And so it goes all “winter.”

Migrants winter in Florida for good reasons. Here they find warmth, food, and shelter to avoid freezing or starving in colder climates.

Do winter or year-round birds in Florida really need a bird feeder? Or, am I messing with nature somehow to serve my own (selfish?) desires to view and photograph them?

When I lived in the Boulder, Colorado in the Rocky Mountains, I definitely put up a bird feeder. I felt pretty good about it too. But at times, I worried that I might be creating an unnatural situation, and even gave this a name.

I called my feeder an ecological catalyst, because it was an attractant that promoted interactions among many species. My daughter, Karyn Lewis, as a young and developing artist, captured the concept in a drawing, which still hangs in my home office, nearly twenty years later.

Seeds nourished birds and Abert’s squirrels. Sometimes, sunflower seeds sprouted beneath the feeder, an odd sight in my neighborhood, for sure. However, my feeder also attracted bird predators, such as prowling cats or hungry, sharp-eyed raptors. But, at least my feeder visitors could find food in the cold, snowy Colorado Mountains, in both the winter and spring seasons.

Should I give in to temptation and take up backyard bird watching in Florida?




After all, I can walk on the beach or visit parks year-round to observe birds and wildlife in their natural settings. For example, a black vulture posed patiently for me near the banks of Mosquito Lagoon, in Canaveral National Seashore last December. Or, while walking on Bethune Beach, I snapped several shots of sanderlings trying to stay warm on a chilly November morning.

Do I need or deserve more than this? If I do set up a feeder, what are my responsibilities? Once started, can I stop? Am I required to ask folks to bird feeder sit when I leave town?

To feed or not to feed, that is my question. I need help! Lyn