Crepuscular.

I started reading at a very early age. Not crazy-early like some precocious people, but pretty darned early. I was reading before I entered the first grade. I picked it up from the occasional comic books my mom or dad would buy for me (specifically very early issues of the FANTASTIC FOUR), along with some how-to-read picture books they had also given me.

Generally when I would encounter a word I didn't know I would ask my dad or my mom what it meant. Later, after I got to public school, I would look words up in a dictionary instead of asking.

However, somewhere along the way I got lazy. Not every time, but often I would just intuit from the use what the word meant. This could sometimes lead to some embarrassing moments, such as the year or so I pronounced the world 'misled' as MY-zilled. I had correctly assumed the definition, but because I had never looked it up I did not realize it was MISS-led. Yeah, that was uncomfortable when I used it in conversation with another high school student who was not about to let that one pass without duly humiliating me. (No, I did not beat the guy to a pulp. I was too embarrassed to even consider punching him in the face.)

After that I tended to not be quite so arrogant and would look up words that mystified me, or which I grudgingly suspected I might have misinterpreted.

All except one word:

Crepuscular.

I think I first encountered it when I started reading fantasy and horror around the time I was nine or ten years old. Perhaps I first saw it in a book dealing with creepy undead or some Lovecraftian critters. Maybe even Bradbury, whose work I started reading when I was eight years old. But wherever it was, I found the word so strange that I wasn't even going to bother looking for the definition. I went back to trying to discern the meaning from the context. This went on--quite actually--for about five decades.

That's right. I bumped into the word now and again from about the time of my eighth or ninth birthday (let's say) until this past week, only a month or so from my sixtieth birthday. And now I know what it means. And the only reason I know what it means is that the word was used on an educational sign in the Fort Pickens Museum at Gulf Shores National Seashore. It was informing visitors how to deal with biting insects, and later describing mosquitoes and such vermin as 'crepuscular', going on to define the word as 'things that are most active at dusk, or twilight '. I turned to my wife who was also looking at the sign and said, "Damn! I finally know what that fucking word means!"

Well, I'll be dipped in dogshit.

There it was.

And I'd never gotten it right, having always interpreted it as to mean, somehow, that something or someone was corrupt in some manner.

Five decades of stubborn arrogance.

Well, at least I was always pronouncing it correctly in my mind, even if I never used the word in conversation or in my prose.

Thank Jove for that, at least.

There is also the use of the word referring to fading sunlight. It could be that I first encountered it in that context. (But I couldn't resist being a lout over the word by producing a smartass meme.)

Kingdom of the Osprey.

I have never seen more ospreys in a more compact area than I did at the Gulf Shores National Seashore. There were enormous osprey nests all around, and each nest was inhabited by an osprey couple. Since they were stationary taking care of newly laid eggs (I never saw any hatchlings, but I suppose they could already have emerged), it was easy to photograph mated pairs of the birds.

Nothing hit home to me more that I need a better camera and finer lenses than when I got back to my Casita travel trailer to look at the photos I had taken. Only to find that hours exploring around the freshwater marsh and lurking near osprey nests had netted me about 50 ruined photos. The filter I had used for my telephoto lens obviously was not a good match and the photos were all ruined. Slightly blurred. I lost dozens of wonderful action shots.

I remedied this by removing and disposing of the faulty filter, but the damage was done. Wasted moments lost to sub-standard camera equipment. Alas.

I went back out on subsequent days, but I never did get those kinds of photos again. I got some decent ones, but not the shots of action and interaction between the mated ospreys. As soon as I can afford the budget for a camera/lens upgrade I will do that. For now, I'll have to be extremely careful of what I am doing with the equipment that I do have and to make sure that the images are as clear as possible.

Because of the ecosystem where we camped, I got to see ospreys actively hunting. Carole and I actually saw an osprey descend to catch and kill a Hispid rat. To that point I had only seen them bringing in fish. But we sat and watched as a big osprey suddenly altered his flight and hit the ground to grab the small rodent and return to the air. An opportunistic moment and I didn't even have my camera ready.

I only post this as a cautionary lesson. This would have been a kickass photo if only I'd realized the filter I had applied does not work with this lens. I screwed up well over fifty otherwise wonderful photographs because of this. Damn.

There was a specific nest I visited a lot because there was easy access through the sawgrass. The male seemed okay with it, but the mama osprey finally had enough of my shit. This is the photo I took just before she took wing to give me an earful and--I am convinced--looked for an opportunity to dive-bomb or claw my ass. I beat feet and gave her some solitude.

Nice trail and boardwalk through the sawgrass.

Damn it! Not you again?!!

Their nests are often enormous. I've heard they keep adding to them year after year.

The sawgrass ecosystem in which most of the nests are located.

I am pretty sure that at this precise second, she was altering her flightpath and considering diving down and taking a piece of me back up with her. I think she was carefully gauging the distance and my capacity to do more than scream in terror. Sorry for the blurry photo, but...well...there you are.

Parks. And Parks. And More Parks.

Florida has 123 state parks. Plus three state forests. Plus 17 state historic sites. Plus three state reserves. Plus 18 state preserves. This does not count their 3 National Parks, 3 National Forests, two National Memorials, one National Landmark, one National Historic Site, 23 National Wildlife Refuges, and one National Seashore. And it has 17 nationally designated wilderness areas. Yes, by eastern standards, Florida is a large-ish state, but damn! Keep in mind that there are hundreds of significant county parks and preserves in Florida, also. They have county parks that would put to shame major state parks in other states. Plus, I haven't even bothered to list or do a search for protected creeks and rivers.

By which I mean to say that while most tourists head to Florida where they waste their time walking around in sick, fake, artificial amusement parks and roasting amidst vast crowds on tourist beaches, there's no need for that foolishness. There is almost no end to the amazement you can find within their systems of parks and wild lands.

By contrast, my current state of North Carolina has 35 state parks, several of them rather pathetic excuses for parks. My home state of Georgia (the largest state east of the Mississippi) has 62 state parks, some of them also pretty lame when it comes to recreation and acreage. Florida knows how to preserve land and maintain access to wild and rural places.

This is the main reason Carole and I keep going back to Florida. If we avoided even most of the rivers and main parks and just concentrated on the big freshwater springs that attract us there, we would have plenty of locations to visit for years and years.

If only other eastern states would work to create as much natural preservation as Florida has done. Hell...they even surpass many gigantic western states in this respect. While other states balk at creating parks, or have legislatures who actively work against creating parks, Florida has honed a state park system that rivals any we have experienced.

All of which is my way of saying that if you are going to visit Florida, do yourself a favor and take a break from the stupid amusement parks. Shy away from the crowded beaches. Find some solitude and quiet and see what's real, for Pete's sake.

Osprey, Gulf Shores National Seashore.

Pelican, Fort Pickens.

Cypress Springs.

Dead live oak, Gulf Shores National Seashore.

Fort Pickens.

Lesser heron, freshwater marsh, Gulf Shores National Seashore.

Fence lizard, Deer Lake State Park.

Spider Lilly, Holmes Creek.