Now is the time to see and swim with the manatees in Crystal River. Last week one lady that attended the tour was very excited to cross this off her bucket list . Charlene Homolka is a writer and she sent me a article she wrote after her tour. I will share this with my readers. maby she will get this published.
Manatee Magic By Charlene Homolka
Sunrise was imminent, but it was still dark when my husband and I left our Florida hotel room. I shivered as a crisp January breeze ruffled my hair. I normally get up at the crack of nine, but here we were, off on an adventure before the birds were awake. Today one more thing would get checked off our bucket list. We were going swimming with the manatees!
These mystical creatures live in the coastal waters of the Gulf year-round, but come to spring-fed rivers to drink freshwater and rest at night. In the middle of winter, as ocean currents cool, they bask in the seventy-two degree water bubbling up from countless underground springs. These feed the clear rivers of Florida’s “Nature Coast”, the northeastern bend under the panhandle. Beaches are rare here. Instead, thousands of inlets, rivers and bays form a kayaker’s or birdwatcher’s paradise.
A brief stroll brought us to the dive shop connected with our hotel. We watched the obligatory video on the do’s and don’ts of contact with this endangered species, and then were issued wetsuits. We zipped each other up the back, grabbed our gear, and walked to the pontoon boat. We were the only passengers. A lean, middle-aged man sat at the wheel.
“Hi, I’m Wayne. I’m your guide. We’ll go in idle mode down this inlet, in case any manatees are resting here. Once in King’s Bay I can pick up some speed. We’re going to a lagoon formed by three springs, the Three Sisters. It’s one of their favorite resting places.”
The rosy pinks and glowing oranges of sunrise streaked the skies and reflected off the still waters of the bay. As the boat picked up speed, the breeze was chilly. Just then the idea of being in the water, wetsuit or not, wasn’t very appealing, but I kept the picture of a mother with a nursing calf in mind. We’d been told the babies were more curious in the early hours. Maybe we’d see at least one.
The engine quieted as we drew up along two other boats. Snorkelers standing in the shallow water were surrounded by a swarm of dark shapes. As we were slipping on our fins, Wayne asked, “Which land mammals are the manatees’ closest relatives?” I was stumped.
“Umm—seals and sea lions?” I answered. He shook his head. “Hippos?”
“Nope, elephants. “If you get the chance, notice they have nails like elephants on the edges of their feet. Their hides are thick, so you can rub or lightly scratch them. They’ll turn over on their backs and offer their bellies. They might grab your legs with their forelimbs and nibble you. They’re attracted to your warmth. They don’t have teeth in front, just molars for chewing sea grass.”
How exciting! I hoped that would happen to me. My husband was the first in. He flailed around a bit, as the main channel was fairly deep. Putting on a mask while you’re treading water is always problematic. I joined him and gasped as the chill soaked through the wetsuit. Wayne motioned with his hand, saying, “It’ll be warmer beyond that break in the trees.” Several flipper strokes later we stood on the sandy bottom next other snorkelers. Their guide said manatees are sound oriented and love being talked to.
Something wrapped around my leg. It was a half-grown calf, already seven feet long, hugging my thigh with his forelimbs. I scratched his rough hide and he nibbled me from knee to chest and turned over for a belly rub. The slit in the middle of his belly revealed his gender.
I could have stayed there all day, savoring the deliciousness of our interaction, but Wayne gestured us to follow him. I reluctantly left my new friend behind. We glided through crystal clear spring waters. A massive manatee surfaced for air alongside me. I stopped to watch him breathe at the surface and then continue his stately progress. While hurrying to catch up with the others, I gulped water. Accustomed to the salty sea, I was surprised at its sweetness.
The spring widened into a lagoon with three chambers, around twenty feet deep. Dozens of manatees, including three cows with nursing calves, lay there. Some were resting and others were walking on the bottom with their forelimbs. We’d been told not to dive down and disturb them, but to let them come to us. A curious young one brushed my leg. I rubbed his back and algae scattered. He nosed closer, begging for more. Another behemoth rose slowly to the surface, breathed through his whiskered nostrils, and sank again to the bottom, resting on his legs and burying his nose. To my right a patch of fine white sand bubbled like boiling stew. It was a freshwater spring, one of the sources of this watery paradise.
Suddenly something silver streaked across my sight, not two feet from me. It was a long-necked cormorant. The air trapped in its feathers reflected the light filtering from above. I’d long admired these diving birds, marveling they could submerge for so long, then reappear where you least expected them. This one searched for small fish with his hooked beak around a clump of mangrove roots, then disappeared behind me. He popped up, just two feet from my face. With my lens half in, half out, I admired his brilliant yellow beak above the water, and his powerful webbed feet below. Three worlds-mammal, fish and bird-had joined.
At the edge of the lagoon lay a giant cow, with her calf nursing just under her left forelimb. An equally large one kept vigil behind them, its nose lightly touching the young one’s tail. Males, or bulls, are slightly smaller than cows, so I assumed this too was a female. Like elephants, nursing mothers often have female companions, or “aunties.” Almost every manatee here had scars on its back or tail from propeller blades. These two were damaged the worst. The calf’s back carried deep gashes, not yet healed. His mother had similar wounds on her back and tail. Boating regulations are stringent in the rivers, so they most likely received their injuries out in the Gulf.
Boats kill and injure many manatees every year, often by the impact alone. To give them buoyancy, their lungs extend the length of their back, just under the spinal column. They can rest on the bottom for up to twenty minutes and are often so deeply asleep that an automatic reflex takes them up for air. This pair could have been sleeping and risen to the top for a breath when the tragedy occurred. The incident was fairly recent, hence the presence of the auntie to guard them, as they healed. My throat choked up in pity for these gentle giants.
I slowly moved away, acknowledging their need for privacy. We swam over a hole forty feet deep. Two gnarled bleached trees lay there, glowing eerily in the half-light of the depths. A small one passed under my face closely enough to display the nails edging his foot. A tune hummed under the water brought him to within inches of my mask. His milky blue eye looked into mine and we communed in silence, but after one last rub, I turned to look for my husband.
We’d been in the water for almost two hours and were chilled, so we headed for the boat. I felt a presence beneath me and there, within touching distance, was a monolithic mother and her calf. She was twice my length and four to five times my breadth, weighing well over a ton. Her baby at her side, she escorted me to the lagoon’s entrance with slow, undulations of her massive tail. Not wanting the magic to end, I rejected the desire to stroke her and enjoyed the sense of union as we made our way through the water.
Back aboard, Wayne handed me something over an inch wide. “Ya know what that is?”
I stroked my finger across the bottom. “A barnacle, but what’s on it?”
“Manatee skin. Barnacles attach out in the Gulf, but freshwater kills them. When they drop off they take the top layer with them. Keep it. I have several.”
A barnacle infestation must be uncomfortable. How wonderful they could be shed so easily. I wrapped it in tissue and looked forward to adding it to my other treasures.
The ride back was miserable. We’d shed our wetsuits and put our clothes on over our swimsuits, but even under two towels, I shivered uncontrollably. I couldn’t wait to get back to our warm room. I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, wanting to keep this morning’s experience in my memories forever.
As for the bucket list? Not checking this item off yet. The experience calls for a repeat, or two, or three.
