O ancient wanderer of Sapsucker Woods, armor-clad and quiet, you lumber forth, carved from the earth itself, sculpted from mud and pondweed dreams.
October’s afternoon light paints you with golden shadows, each leaf fallen, each branch broken a whispered testament to the slowness of your path, steady as a heartbeat unmoved by haste.
You bear the centuries in the lines of your shell, grooves and valleys where stories settle, tales of reeds and minnows, and the deep-rooted knowing that life is best met with patience, with pause.
O creature of edges and silence, you bridge water and wood, the line between stillness and stride. What weight you carry, not of burden, but of presence— a shell that holds the weight of stars, the bones of ancient rivers, and the soft clay of Sapsucker’s floor.
In your slow, silent passing, the trail bows to you. Leaves make way, and the earth beneath you settles a little deeper, reminded of the strength that moves without noise, the wisdom that crawls in the path of shadows.
Turtle, you who wear the world’s patience, I watch you disappear, an ambassador of ponds and pools, a silent architect of marsh and moss. May your journey be long, your pauses endless, and your shell a testament to the beauty of age, carved by time, blessed by the sun.
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Copyright 2025 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
On this autumn Sapsucker Woods afternoon, the world seems crafted to soothe. Sunlight filters through the canopy, setting leaves ablaze in rich reds, golden yellows, and softened greens, the seasonal palette reflecting nature’s grand finale. Today, the woods are a sanctuary for healing, a space where steps are measured not by speed but by strength, each one a testament to resilience.
Pam stands before the wide, outstretched wings painted on the wall at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, wings so vast that they dwarf her. She smiles, resting against her hiking poles, the Condor wings an emblem of a journey toward reclaiming freedom. Her recent hip replacement surgery has given her back this independence, a reminder that recovery is not just about physical mending, but about lifting the spirit to soar once again.
The trail unfolds gently, bordered by cattails and still waters that mirror the sky—a bright blue canvas mottled with soft clouds drifting in and out of the reflections. Fallen leaves float upon the pond’s surface, creating patches of color that seem suspended between water and sky. Nearby, lily pads, green stepping stones over shadowed depths, their edges lit by glittering sunlight. Geese glide by, unbothered, embodying a calm flowing outward, wrapping the whole scene in peace.
Each step Pam takes is deliberate, accompanied by the steady rhythm of her poles striking the ground. It is the kind of walk that invites contemplation, where time slows, and even the smallest detail—a single yellow leaf spiraling down, a ripple breaking the pond’s surface—feels like an invitation to pause and breathe. She moves from the open path toward a shaded arbor, draped with twisting vines. The vines climb upward, winding around the wooden beams, their leaves creating a soft veil that frames her view of the water beyond. Through this leafy curtain, she gazes upon the pond, where autumn’s reflection glows, offering a quiet moment of solitude, of healing drawn from nature’s persistence.
Just beyond, a bare tree stands, its trunk hollowed by years, its exposed wood testament to the life that has passed through it. In its decay, it offers a home to the creatures of the marsh, a structure among reeds and grasses that sway with the wind. The tree reminds Pam of her own journey, how resilience is often found in adapting, in letting time and life shape you.
At last, we reach a bench overlooking the pond, a perfect place to rest and reflect. She settles in, feeling the quiet thrill of accomplishment. The woods are still, save for the sound of a breeze rustling the reeds and the occasional bird song piercing the silence. In this moment, with the vast sky overhead and the world reflected below, she feels a profound sense of gratitude—not only for the beauty around her but for the strength within her. Sapsucker Woods are a personal cathedral, a space where nature and recovery intertwine, offering peace in every step, in every breath.
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Copyright 2024 All Rights Reserved Michael Stephen Wills
Up Blackpoint Wildlife Drive, about two miles from the entrance, we came to the parking area for Wild Bird Trail Head where I spent an hour or so admiring the sights. This Mangrove sprouting from brackish water is one of three known to grow here.
I’d say it is a Black Mangrove from the color of the bark. “Unlike other mangrove species, it does not grow on prop roots, but possesses pneumatophores that allow its roots to breathe even when submerged. It is a hardy species and expels absorbed salt mainly from its leathery leaves.”
The text in quotes is from the Black Mangrove wikipedia article.
Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Titusville, Brevard County, Florida
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Up Blackpoint Wildlife Drive about two miles from the entrance we came to the parking area for Wild Bird Trail Head where I spent a hour or so admiring the sights.
This Tricolor Heron taking advantage of a perch provided by Black Mangrove growing from the brackish water. I assume it is resting as this heron stalks its prey in shallow or deeper water, often running as it does so. It eats fish, amphibians, crustaceans, gastropods, leeches, worms, spiders, reptiles, and insects.
Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Titusville, Brevard County, Florida
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
This series of wading shorebirds are from a mash alongside Blackpoint Wildlife Drive.
This Anhinga basked on a marsh bush just off Blackpoint Wildlife Drive on a January morning. Soaking in sunlight is most important for this waterbird as Anhinga features are not waterproof, after a session of diving, the bird is soaked through to the skin and need to warm up and dry off.
“The Anhinga sometimes called snakebird, darter, American darter, or water turkey, is a water bird of the warmer parts of the Americas. The word anhinga comes from the Brazilian Tupi language and means “devil bird” or “snake bird”. The origin of the name is apparent when swimming: only the neck appears above water, so the bird looks like a snake ready to strike. They do not have external nares (nostrils) and breathe solely through their epiglottis. Anhinga species are found all over the world in warm shallow waters.”
The American anhinga has been subdivided into two subspecies, Anhinga anhinga anhinga and Anhinga anhinga lleucogaster, based on their location. Anhinga anhinga anhinga can be found mainly east of the Andes in South America and also the islands of Trinidad and Tobago. Anhinga anhinga lleucogaster can be found in the southern United States, Mexico, Cuba, and Grenada.
“A kettle of Anhingas often migrate with other birds and have been described as resembling black paper gliders.”
The text in quotes is from the Anhinga wikipedia article.
Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Titusville, Brevard County, Florida
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
This video of a Common gallinule feeding was taken from Blackpoint Wildlife Drive.
The family Rallidae (aka rails) includes crakes, coots, and this member of the gallinules. Found worldwide, this species, Gallinula galeata, was recognized in 2011 as separate from the closely related “Old World” Moorhens.
Here it is in a favored habitat, feeding on underwater vegetation of the Florida marsh in sight of rockets launching from Kennedy Space Center. The exceptional lighting, bright reflective water, are created by the low winter sun and southern exposure of the location just north of the road.
The taxonomic Order is derived from the Latin word Gallinula meaning a small hen or chicken that, since the 13th century at least, as revealed in the names “Moorhen,” “Waterhen,” and “Swamp Chicken.”
The spread of Gallinula is attributed to breeding habits. “Laying starts in spring, between mid-March and mid-May in Northern hemisphere temperate regions. About 8 eggs are usually laid per female early in the season; a brood later in the year usually has only 5–8 or fewer eggs. Nests may be re-used by different females. Incubation lasts about three weeks. Both parents incubate and feed the young. These fledge after 40–50 days, become independent usually a few weeks thereafter, and may raise their first brood the next spring. When threatened, the young may cling to the parents’ body, after which the adult birds fly away to safety, carrying their offspring with them.”
The text in quotes is from the Wikipedia article for “Common Moorhen.”
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
This series of wading shorebirds are from a mash alongside Blackpoint Wildlife Drive.
“The exposed mudflats on tidal wetlands attract a variety of shorebirds. Shorebirds are seasonal residents that make long migratory journeys between their breeding grounds in the Artic and their wintering area in South America. Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge provides an important resting and feeding area for this group of birds. Some stay for the winter, others use the refuge as a fuel stop before continuing on their journey.”
“In tidal areas, shorebird feeding schedules are influenced by the cycle of tides. Changes in tidal cycles expose foraging areas in mudflats for a period during the day. At other points during the cycle, the water in these same areas becomes too deep or the ground too dry for shorebirds to feed effectively.”
The text in quotes is from a roadside information placard, Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Titusville, Brevard County, Florida
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
This Common gallinule was feeding from the mash alongside Blackpoint Wildlife Drive.
The family Rallidae (aka rails) includes crakes, coots, and this member of the gallinules. Found worldwide, this species, Gallinula galeata, was recognized in 2011 as separate from the closely related “Old World” Moorhens.
Here it is in a favored habitat, feeding on underwater vegetation of the Florida marsh in sight of rockets launching from Kennedy Space Center. The exceptional lighting, bright reflective water, are created by the low winter sun and southern exposure of the location just north of the road.
The taxonomic Order is derived from the Latin word Gallinula meaning a small hen or chicken that, since the 13th century at least, as revealed in the names “Moorhen,” “Waterhen,” and “Swamp Chicken.”
The spread of Gallinula is attributed to breeding habits. “Laying starts in spring, between mid-March and mid-May in Northern hemisphere temperate regions. About 8 eggs are usually laid per female early in the season; a brood later in the year usually has only 5–8 or fewer eggs. Nests may be re-used by different females. Incubation lasts about three weeks. Both parents incubate and feed the young. These fledge after 40–50 days, become independent usually a few weeks thereafter, and may raise their first brood the next spring. When threatened, the young may cling to the parents’ body, after which the adult birds fly away to safety, carrying their offspring with them.”
The text in quotes is from the Wikipedia article for “Common Moorhen.”
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
This series of wading shorebirds are from a mash alongside Blackpoint Wildlife Drive.
“The exposed mudflats on tidal wetlands attract a variety of shorebirds. Shorebirds are seasonal residents that make long migratory journeys between their breeding grounds in the Artic and their wintering area in South America. Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge provides an important resting and feeding area for this group of birds. Some stay for the winter, others use the refuge as a fuel stop before continuing on their journey.”
“In tidal areas, shorebird feeding schedules are influenced by the cycle of tides. Changes in tidal cycles expose foraging areas in mudflats for a period during the day. At other points during the cycle, the water in these same areas becomes too deep or the ground too dry for shorebirds to feed effectively.”
Though only one bird appears in each photo, “shorebirds of different species can and do forage together. Because bill length and shape vary from species to species, birds can pursue different prey in the same area at the same time without completing with each other. Because of varying bill lengths, different birds species find their food at different depths in the substrate. Mixed species of shorebirds are a common sight.”
The text in quotes is from a roadside information placard, Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, Titusville, Brevard County, Florida
Copyright 2022 Michael Stephen Wills All Rights Reserved
Amazingly swamp, fen, bog, marsh can all be experienced during a thirty minute walk within this preserve. Here we are traversing a swamp …
…buoyed along on planking from recycled plastic.
The founders of this place, from a dairy farming family, strove for years to protect the water sources from encroachment by development, primary a duplicate of a gravel pit found on the other side of the Fall Creek valley.
This former acidic rainwater, percolating through glacial till, is buffered and chemically altered to create these multiform environments.
Water, flowing quietly, almost soundlessly, with powerful effect.
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 