The radar showed a dragon’s tail of inclement weather dragging across the island. The rain might end soon, or the dragon’s tail might keep regenerating and extending.
Either way, there would be deep puddles out there. And driving through such puddles is rarely a great idea. But, really, what could it hurt at this point? Mechanics have marveled at the apparently unprecedented amount of rust underneath our truck
I drove slowly, as any proper citizen of this tiny island should amid flooding, so as not to throw wakes at anybody’s cars or property, but it still did not take long to get Whistling Duck Pond and the back part of the park at Higgs Beach.
It was nice the rain had let up.
Honestly, I hadn’t heard the place called Whistling Duck Pond until a couple weeks ago. I’d called it, “That Little Pond Over By The FAA Tower,” then, “That Little Pond Over By Where The FAA Tower Used To Be.”
I like the actual name, though I’m not sure either of the two species of whistling ducks found in the U.S. have ever been spotted there.
I mean, I’ve seen blue-winged teal there, and northern shovelers, but Blue-Winged Teal Pond and Northern Shoveler Pond don’t roll off the tongue as well as Whistling Duck Pond, and it’s okay to let poetry win over ornithological pedanticism once in a while.
The area near the pond had temporarily become part of the pond when I pulled in off of White Street. Clouds reflected in the smooth surface of the water that covered most of that part of the park, as well as the dog park.
The area inside the FAA fence looked like one of the illustrations you see in old books about the Everglades. There were wading birds everywhere – great egrets, great white herons, white ibis, snowy egrets, little blue herons, and a lone glossy ibis napping with her long decurved bill hidden beneath her wing. A dozen blue-winged teal and a pair of northern shovelers paddled around, disappearing intermittently behind the grass.
There is often water there for several days after a rain, just not that much. I idled through the water and stopped at Whistling Duck Pond, where a brass plaque mounted to a Miami oolite boulder reads:
In memory of
STEVE KLINE
1953-1983
NOW ONE WITH THE UNIVERSE
There aren’t a lot of details to be found about Kline’s life. He graduated from Key West High in 1978, went to Florida Keys Community College for a while, and worked at a local ad agency. One July afternoon he was out cleaning a sailboat in the family’s backyard on Summerland Key. An hour later his parents noticed he was missing. His father and neighbor found him wearing a mask and snorkel in about 20 feet of water, about 20 feet offshore.
His death was one of two drowning deaths that day reported in the same short newspaper item.
The obituary asked people to make donations to Indigenous Park in his honor. I’m not sure why the plaque isn’t there. But I take note of that memorial every time I stop by.
Whistling Duck Pond is not a big space. It might even be smaller than your average Key West apartment. And it is not what I would call tidy. But it is a nice piece of under-appreciated habitat. It sits in the middle of a dome of trees that provide some good perches and habitat. It’s great for songbirds in migration and over the winter. It’s a nice perching spot for mid-sized wading birds who want to get a break from the sun. And white-crowned pigeons often nest there.
From the truck I spotted an adult yellow-crowned night heron on a branch, looking a little annoyed by the recent weather. Then I caught sight of three juvenile yellow-crowns, possibly her offspring, in the branches around her.
Two more blue-winged teal, apparently a separatist faction, swam on the far side of the pond.
I’ve been reading Helen MacDonald’s pretty great, “H is for Hawk” lately and apparently the falconer’s word for an avian excretion is a mute. I caught sight of a fourth juvenile yellow-crown, which was mostly obscured by foliage, when it muted.
Granted, the flooding was optimal for wading birds, but seeing 17 species in less than 10 minutes – 18 if you count the chickens – is pretty impressive. A high-water mark on the day, so to speak.
Still, I was a little depressed about the place. Since the city took ownership of the Higgs Beach property, there has been talk of developing the area: Pickleball courts where the FAA tower is. Artificial turf in the dog park. Skate parks, skating rinks, BMX tracks. Another little bit of wild Florida Keys, or at least another little bit of space useful to wildlife, getting sliced away. The death of a thousand cuts.
The next day, the newly elected city commissioner Christopher Massicotte led a meeting in one of the beach pavilions to hear residents’ priorities for the beach and park. I went begrudgingly, largely out of a sense of duty.
My wife and I arrived about 10 minutes into the meeting. We had to bring the dog as she had found a new way to break out of the yard and we hadn’t quite figured out her latest method.
A hundred or so people packed the pavilion. Mayor Sam Kaufman was there. Commissioners Monica Haskell, Mark Rossi and Donie Lee were there, along with several city staffers. There were probably other notables, too, but we were down in the sand and couldn’t see everyone.
At times the meeting did skew close to something out of a “Parks and Recreation” episode with Massicotte as Leslie Knope. But it was also very heartening.
A few things became clear. Artificial turf is deeply unpopular. And good lord, in a dog park? It would be like having dogs poop on carpet all day.
People don’t want to pay for parking at Higgs Beach. There’s a perfectly good hockey rink a half-mile away – maybe fix that up and put a roof back over it. Maybe they don’t need more pickleball courts, just better managed ones.
The two people who got the greatest reaction from the crowd were Corey Malcom, PhD, the historian at the Florida Keys History Center, and Tom Sweets, executive director of the Key West Wildlife Center just down the block.
Malcom described the African Cemetery at Higgs Beach, where he and other researchers, years ago, had used ground penetrating radar to locate graves buried at various places around the park. Inherent in Malcom’s talk was the importance of respecting those graves.
Sweets talked about how important that small area was, not only for wildlife, but as an important water catchment area for storms like we had just had.
King tides and heavy rains are a combination to be reckoned with. Maybe more hard surfaces are not the answer.
Walking around afterwards, it kind of dawned on many of us, maybe it’d be best to do the least. Plant some native trees. Maybe build a raised boardwalk that could be used for exercise and as a wildlife-viewing path. Maybe it could be a quiet, unfussy space where people can appreciate its wonder.
