Sunday, 6:14 PM - Nine hours on the canoe trails of the Okefenokee Swamp! Nine continuous hours in the canoe without a break to stretch our legs or use the bathroom. Nine hours of pulling on the paddles in the mid-day sun. Tiring, but I wouldn’t give up the experience for anything.

After a there-and-back-again paddle to the Sill, which included the treacherous navigation through the Narrows and our upstream struggle on Mixon’s Hammock, we made it back to Billy’s Lake toward evening. Back to calm waters and the serenity of roosting Cormorants, drumming Pileated Woodpeckers, and alligators attempting to soak in the last rays of the setting sun. The daylight was beginning to fade, the trolling motor battery was beginning to fade, and we were beginning to fade. But we arrived before dark. A full day on the blackwater swamp.​

Sunday, 3:41 PM - As our canoe progressed through the tight foliage of The Narrows (brown trail), we came upon a comical scene. A goofy Cormorant sad mid-stream on a stump, heaving and coughing. As we watched, he puked a large fish out of his mouth and it splashed into the water. Being free of his tracheal obstruction, he flew off over our heads, leaving the floating dead fish in the water for us to pass. 

Sunday, 3:45 PM - The journey along the wide canal known as The Sill was quite easy, especially with an electric trolling motor aiding our progress.  But as we turned east back up the brown trail, our trouble began. That wonderful downstream current we enjoyed this morning through Mixon’s Hammock was now a forceful torrent impeding our way back to camp.

Small but forceful streams of water were pouring off the prairie adding to the current. Amanda kept the trolling motor on the highest setting and it barely held us in one spot. I lunged with all the strength of my shoulders and biceps to press us forward, but progress was slow and laborious. It was also getting late.

The thoughts of not making it back to Billy’s Lake before dark were becoming an ominous presence in my mind. When we were passed by some barefoot fishermen in a gas powered john boat, I desired to ask for a tow. “You’re going to have a tough go against this current”, was all the help they could muster. Such toil, and we still had the passage through the dreaded Narrows ahead.

I got quite a workout as I pulled and pulled the paddle against the current. Needless to say, I have no photos along this stretch of our journey, for anytime I quit paddling even to catch my breath, we immediately were pulled backward. And only an occasional alligator watched as we labored past.
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But we finally made it through the prairie into the Narrows, and things actually improved. The narrowing and twisting of the channel slowed the current and the trolling motor carried us along without paddling. Navigation by trolling motor was easier up-stream! Amanda did an incredible job of steering through the Narrows on our return journey. 

The larger alligators are usually easier to spot, so my daughter and I are always on the lookout for the cute juvenile and baby alligators hiding among the spatterdock lily pads and floating peat mats of the Okefenokee Swamp. And it is always a true joy to hear a baby gator chirp! 

​Generally, the young alligators stay with the mother for one year, but they can remain in the pod for up to three years. Staying in pods helps protect the young alligators from predators such as raccoons, large fish, birds of prey, and even other alligators. Large male alligators have been known to predate the young. Baby alligators will chirp to alert their mother for protection when threatened. 

​A group of juvenile alligators with a mother is called a pod. Sometimes a pod will consist of a mixed group of juveniles from several alligator nests. These baby gators stay within their pod for up to three years, close to their adult mother who ferociously protects them from predators such as raccoons and raptors… even paddlers in a canoe nearing for a closer look! Even adult male alligators will snatch up a baby gator. 

In an 1825 oration, early American poet ​Charles Sprague beautifully laments the  extirpation of the American Indian that once roamed the lands like the Okefenokee: 

​Every time I dip my oars into the blackwaters of the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge, I am overwhelmed: overwhelmed by silence, and overwhelmed by wild… overwhelmed by immensity, and overwhelmed by the micro. There is so much to the Okefenokee Swamp that, like the Grand Canyon, it just cannot be adequately described by even the best narratives or photography. As C.T. Trowell quoted in one of his books, "...it is not possible to convey the personality of this overwhelming place by word or picture. You must go to the Okefenokee to really understand its majesty." 

Of course, the main spectacle of paddling the Okefenokee Swamp is the alligators. Huge beasts and kings of their domain. But the swamp also holds birds galore. From small passerines to large wading birds, if you keep your eyes open, there is plenty to see besides alligators! 

​Excerpt from the 1926 History of the Okefenokee Swamp by AS McQueen and Hamp Mizell:

As the sun was setting, groups of Little Blue Herons roosted high up in the trees. The Little Blues seemed much more abundant than on our 2015 trip, but aiming my new super-telephoto lens up into the trees took a bit of getting used to. And when a pair of Wood Ducks flew by, I knew I really needed some more practice! This first day was going to be more of a photography practice run. I wasn’t quite used to handling this heavier Sigma lens and shooting moving subjects from a moving canoe.

Also, I brought along two camera bodies. One with the zoom, the other with a wide angle lens. But I felt like I was fumbling around, unsure of which to shoot and when. I just felt too rushed, always swapping cameras. Being too concerned about getting the shot, I just wasn’t having fun. I think it also lead to frustration and boredom for Amanda as well.

I decided upon a tactic of using primarily one lens for a period of time, and then another later. Except for the morning of the final day, the remainder of the trip I shot primarily with the 150-600mm super-telephoto unless in one of the more constricted areas. 

​I can’t recall a trip to the Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge when I haven’t seen a Double-crested Cormorant. Although more abundant in some months than others, they seem to be a regular inhabitant of the refuge. They can be seen roosting in trees along the horizon, perched just above the water getting ready for a dive, or swimming through the blackwater with just their neck and head above the surface. I’ve also seen small groups of Cormorants fly over the open skies of the Okefenokee Swamp in a V-shaped pattern, at first mistaking them for Canada Geese.

To me, the cormorants are kind of an odd looking, goofy, web-footed bird somewhere between a duck and an Anhinga. They are a dark colored bird, but have a bit of a sheen if you can get close enough to one when the light is just right. A close look also reveals the striking bright blue eyes that look translucent like a shining gem. I’ve never noticed the “double crests” on a Double-crested Cormorant in the Okefenokee (or any I’ve observed in the southeast). But apparently they have wispy tufts of feathers on either side of the head in breeding season. Individuals in Alaska reportedly have white crests, making it much more visible.

Like the Anhinga, their characteristic pose is the spread-eagle stance. Less preening oil, and thereby less buoyancy in water, makes them excellent divers, but they become water-logged while diving for fish, which is their primary food. This brings the cormorants out onto an open perch after a dive to dry out their wings. There are often groups of cormorants in a line with wings spread on some fallen cypress tree in the swamp.
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With their color, basic shape, habitat and range overlapping with the Anhinga, the two can be easily confused from a distance.  The most tell-tale difference can be seen in the bill. The bill of the Double-crested Cormorant is shorter than the Anhinga and hooded downward at the tip. The Anhinga has a much sleeker, spear-like, pointed bill. 

Whenever an Okefenokee excursion comes to an end, I am immediately antsy about another trip. Typically I have to wait another year, but sometimes two! During the wait, the anticipation builds. I frequently gaze at the large fold-out National Geographic topographic map I purchased at the Stephen C Foster State Park trading post in 2015 and hung on my office wall.  I am astonished by the immensity of the swamp: the seemingly endless road into the refuge is a mere toothpick’s length on the 3’ square map. Much of metro-Atlanta could be swamped waist deep in the Okefenokee’s total acreage.
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Of all the vastness in this huge wilderness area, only three main canoe trails, just over 100 miles total, transect the refuge map. Looking at the other areas void of trails and shelters makes me to ponder these less frequented areas. Are they open lakes, prairies or dense swamps? Do the alligators and swamp bears concentrate there more than the frequented areas? How about bobcat and cougars? What scenes do Red Bird Prairie and Hickory Hammock hold? And “Strange Island”: what mysteries lie there? Pockets of Cottonmouths or rattlesnakes? I can’t wait to get back again!  

​In the early years of our nation, the Okefenokee Swamp was thought to be an uninhabitable wilderness never to be settled, or even explored, because of its many dangers. While the bear, panther and wolf had been extirpated from the “civilized places”, they were thought to remain within the dark interior of the Okefenokee. The giant crocodilian, the American Alligator, still patrolled the waters while venomous snakes hid among the cypress stumps. The image of horror was further bolstered by stories of outlaw fugitives, scalp-hunting Seminoles, and spooks and haunts.
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Times have changed and science has dispelled fiction. But the mystery and trepidation still remains. With the exodus of the Swampers, the Okefenokee now remains uninhabited. The Swamp is still the abode of snakes, bobcat, bird and bear. And the formidable crocodilian, the American Alligator, still patrols the waters in great abundance. And but for the adventurous kayakers that cross the refuge’s maintained canoe trails, the Okefenokee is the refuge of beast and bird alone. 

My daughter and I are back in the Okefenokee for four days of paddling! The timing didn’t quite work out for us to make a return trip to the Okefenokee in 2016, but the postponement was quite beneficial as we were able to better equip the expedition.

Since the last trip, we bought our own canoe, which meant no fees and no required return times as with the State Park rental canoe. We had also purchased a trolling motor allowing us to cover more area and explore deeper than before. ​The Saturday prior to leaving for the Okefenokee, we took the canoe and trolling motor to Lake Rutledge at Hard Labor Creek State Park for a trial run. Amanda quickly became proficient with navigating from the rear while I sat in the bow with a ready camera. I built a small camera shelf to mount to the front of the canoe for shooting.

​And the most exciting piece of new equipment was for my camera. On the Monday prior to leaving, I opened a box shipped from BH Photo containing a Sigma 150-600mm super-telephoto lens! Much longer than my 300mm than I'd been using up to now. 

In the weeks leading up to our planned March journey, I called the National Park Service hotline several times for details about canoe trails and overnight permits. I had desired to spend at least one night camped in the swamp, either at the Big Water shelter, Cravens Hammock, or Floyd’s Island, but because of low water levels, none of these options were open. The only overnight shelter open was the platform on Minnie’s Lake, normally a day-use only platform. Since that was only 5 miles from Stephen C Foster State Park, we decided to camp all three nights in the campground and make out-and-back trips each day. I spent a few hours tediously entering GPS coordinates for islands, trail junctions, platforms and other landmarks. ​

An excerpt from naturalist Bradford Torrey's 1895 book, A Florida Sketch-Book: