In the late 1980’s I was sitting in the library at the University of South Florida (USF) yearning for adventure. This was around the first time I read about the FSPSP: “Fakahatchee Strand is perhaps the wildest place east of the Mississippi River.” I was hooked.

Sometimes I flew solo, sometimes I convinced a few friends to go with me. Sweaty, dirty, chronically cash-poor college students crammed into the cab and camper shell of my old truck, heading out into the night. A jumble of backpacks, grills, firewood, hiking boots, sleeping bags, tents, paddles, PFDs, coolers, and a very loud boom box rattled around the vehicle.

We would return many, many times.

FSPSP is nestled above the Ten Thousand Islands portion of Everglades National Park and lies just next to Big Cypress National Preserve. It is wet, wild, fecund, sublime, dark, dangerous, and demanding. Wading is as common as hiking. Reptiles and amphibians of all types are abundant as are insects, native plants, and iconic Florida species from bears to panthers, to crocodiles, to alligators.

We saw a Florida black bear on our first trip. We found Florida panther tracks in the soft oozing mud along the trams. The evening chorus of frogs, insects, birds, and God knows what else was a deafening cacophony. Florida folk musician and wilderness poet Dick Joslyn christened it the “Fakahatchee Jam.” We were not in Kansas anymore… and a gator was eyeing Toto for a snack.

We navigated the darkened waist deep waters you waded through with your feet, hidden beneath the water’s surface. We hoped the round objects you encountered were logs and not big toothy alligators. We saw endless snakes, many of which were fat and long and adorned with rattles, and others laid between ferns on a partially submerged log, thick as your forearm, were of the Moccasin variety. You were hyper aware of where you put your hands and feet. It was a long way to the hospital, and this was in an era before cell phones.

One afternoon we set up camp and hiked further along the tram to a large and open prairie. We lost track of time and after a miraculous sunset began hiking back to our campsite. Between the three of us we had one small flashlight with a feeble beam that barely penetrated the enveloping darkness. As we walked, we gradually kept drawing closer to one another. Then we made out a round elongated 8-10 foot wide shape in front of us. Was it a downed tree or log? Had we stepped over it before on the way in? We honestly could not remember.
Slowly, effortlessly, the log rose up on its four legs, and with great power and nobility eased into the darkened waters off the trail. Slowly. The darkened waters were still and silent again, betraying nothing of the modern dinosaur lurking within. The beam of the flashlight seemed ever more feeble.

We had a favorite island that we loved to camp on, remote and wild, in the Ten Thousand Islands. Comer Key was an official campsite within Everglades National Park. There were few amenities and it was only accessible by boat (or in our case, canoe).

A few months after Hurricane Andrew in 1992 we decided to return to our island paradise, perched along out near the edge of the islands along the Gulf of Mexico.  After leaving the boat launch in Everglades City in our canoes we arrived at a spot of open water and no island. Hurricane Andrew had simply washed it away. The power of nature.

I support NWF’s Gulf Program because I want there to always be places along the Gulf Coast that embody deep wilderness. I want to find places still, even in 2026, to get a little lost or to feel the power of nature. NWF saves the places that stir my soul.

So, in the spirit of adventure and exploration I urge you to travel south on I-75, jump on Tamiami Trail (US 41), leave Naples in the rearview and head east into the wild, wet, and wooly swamps. When you hit SR 29 head north to Copeland and enter FSPSP. While it might be a little less of a frontier than in the days of my youth, it is still one of the wildest places left east of the Mississippi River. Enjoy!

Learn more about Fakahatchee Strand Preserve State Park.

Joe Murphy is a native and lifelong Floridian who lives along the Gulf of Mexico in Florida’s Nature Coast. Joe is a former staff member for NWF’s Gulf Program and contributes these blog posts as a supporter and alumnus. You can follow Joe on Facebook.

Our home of twenty years flooded in 2024 in the aftermath of Hurricane Milton. Built in 1963, it had never flooded before, but the Green Swamp rose, the Withlacoochee River rose, and our home was filled with two to three feet of water. That water sat in the house for a long, long time.

Our family became part of the great diaspora of people fleeing flooded homes and altered lives. We found temporary shelter in my mom’s house, which we were deeply grateful for, and we were profoundly blessed to have a safe place to go and lots of friends, co-workers and fellow congregants to help us clean out our home when the waters receded. 

We had flood insurance, a wonderful support network, jobs and a tight knit family, but it still was one of the most challenging and overwhelming things we have endured. We eventually ended up in a rental house, high on a hill, with no bodies of water in sight. When our landlord offered to sell us this house, despite the fact it made sense, I hesitated. Did we really want to own another home again in Florida?

We could have renovated our flooded home in eastern Hernando County, a home we loved. We raised our children there, welcomed grandchildren into the world there, and made it through changes in jobs, loss of loved ones, health scares, and other upheavals. I always assumed that would be our home far into our old age. 

After the flood, when we faced renovating that home, I froze. I kept picturing looking out the window and seeing the flood waters slowly enveloping our home again. I had the acrid smell of mold in my nostrils and the memory of filling dumpster after dumpster with all our possessions. I could not do it. We sold the house.

We finally made the decision to buy the rental home after reflecting on a simple but profound gift of hope. My mom passed away last year, but before she did, she bought us a new hammock stand. She told me it was to help us create a new home, to start over, and to find new ways to connect with the place we now found ourselves. The box with the hammock stand arrived after we said goodbye to her and began to mourn.

I couldn’t open it for the longest time. The pain of her loss burned hot to the touch. But now it is softened with gentle and loving memories, and a realization that we must make peace with life and find a path forward.

So, this week I bought a hammock for that hammock stand. We are setting it up in the backyard, and we have started to think about finally unpacking all the things we have in storage. We want to sink new roots into this home and make it our new normal. We will hang our new hammock, start a new home, and find a sense of place and community again. Our journey continues with a gift of love and peace from my mom, a sense of hope and a leap of faith.

I look forward to the first night I lay out in our backyard and gaze up at the heavens in that hammock. I yearn for those bright stars, glowing moon, and celestial magic. I hope to find a small moment of peace and an island of stillness in the darkened night. I will offer a prayer for a changing climate and for those still struggling. And I will thank my mom for the gift of home and a hammock stand.

This column originally appeared in several Florida newspapers including the Tampa Bay Times, the Keysnews.com, and the Citrus County Chronicle.

Joe Murphy is a native and lifelong Floridian who lives along Florida’s Nature Coast. Joe is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist for NWF’s Gulf Program and contributes these posts as an alumnus and supporter. You can follow Joe on Facebook.

The effort to celebrate, conserve, protect and enhance our public lands culminates with National Public Lands Day on September 26th. This month, I am hopeful that many Americans will gather in shared purpose and spirit on this special day in a fellowship of service and join efforts at the local, state and federal level to serve our public lands.

Clean ups, plantings, wildlife surveys, trail maintenance, painting parties, group outings and invasive plant removals are just some of the options available to volunteers across the country. The theme of the day is turning support into effort and showing how you value public lands.

In 2026, this month and day are more important than ever.

Our public lands, across the Gulf and across the nation, are facing unprecedented assaults from politicians, developers, the oil and gas industry, mining and logging, and other extractive industries. In Florida, for example, over the last two years, we have defeated efforts to develop our state parks and swap portions of our state forests and wildlife management areas for development. 

Unfortunately, those who would sacrifice our public lands to greed and political influence do not give up. Bad ideas and bad actors simply wait for another opportunity—the bulldozers will return to the gates of Eden.

So let us commit during National Public Lands Month 2026 to give voice to place, to use passion and creativity to engage in advocacy and to let our elected leaders know that public lands are essential to our communities.

So, what can you do?

First and foremost, get out there! You love what you know, and you only know what you experience. Get wet, dirty and immerse yourself in all things wild. You can find a guided hike or outing through most state parks, and organizations like your local Sierra Club, Audubon Society, or Native Plant Society all regularly schedule and lead local trips into wild places and parks.

Be your own north star! Bust out the map and chart your own adventure down the river or along the trail in September. If you are in Florida, take advantage of things like the Florida 2026 Hunting, Fishing, and Camping Sales Tax Holiday (September 1st through December 31st) to buy and use the gear needed to watch wildlife, sleep under the stars or catch a mess of fish. Go online and see if your state or surrounding states have similar programs.

Pile the whole family into the car and head out. Families that spend time together on our public lands are stronger for it, so unplug the devices and plug into the world around you as a family. Your kids may not remember the last electronic experience they had, but they will remember the fish you caught and the amazing animals you saw through the binoculars.

Maybe most importantly, once you enjoy our public lands, fight for them. Give voice to them. Speak for them. They are the birthright of all Americans. The idea of setting aside natural places for outdoor recreation and wildlife is an essential part of the American experience and core to who we are as a people. Become part of that tradition.

Create artwork, music, writings, poems, pictures, videos or multi-media projects using what you learned or experienced on public lands. Share your creations with friends, neighbors, fellow congregants, and co-workers. Share them on social media and with elected officials.

Ask candidates running for state level public office if they support your state’s land acquisition program and are willing to fully fund it. Ask those running for Congress if they will speak up for hunters and anglers and defend public lands for recreational use. Ask them if they will stop efforts to build more roads, expand energy leasing, and weaken protections for public lands. 

Start traditions this September in recognition of National Public Lands Month that take you, your family and your advocacy as a citizen in a new and better direction. Spend time in our state parks and state forests. Speak up for what you have learned to love through time on the trail, the river and at the fishing hole.

Use these experiences to regularly contact elected officials and remind them that you, your family, and your community value public lands. You want them acquired, well managed and protected. That will be a mighty and wonderful way to observe National Public Lands Month this year.

Learn more about National Public Lands Day events in your community 

Learn more about the Florida 2026 Hunting, Fishing, and Camping Sales Tax Holiday

Joe Murphy is a native and lifelong Florida resident who lives along Florida’s Nature Coast. He is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist for NWF’s Gulf Program and contributes these blog posts as an alumnus and supporter. You can follow Joe on Facebook. An edited version of this blog post was published in several Florida newspapers and social media sites.

NWF does valuable and noble work to protect the forests of Florida and the larger American South. NWF’s Southeast Forestry Program is working across the south to restore longleaf forests for the human and natural communities that depend on them. It is truly impressive work.

I am deeply blessed to live along the southern Nature Coast on the Gulf Coast of Florida, a landscape richly adorned with longleaf pines. Traveling into the forest provides a sublime and transcendent opportunity to hear the wind give them song and listen to their chorus. The song of windswept pines opens doors in my soul that allow me to, just for a moment, venture back in time to the sweetest of memories.

I hear the voice of my grandparents in the music of the pines. I hear the voice of my father, and remember time spent in nature with him. Most powerfully, though, I hear the voice of my mother. It is both painful in the reminder of loss and joyful in the celebration of memory—truly the definition of bittersweet.

My mom was a dedicated adherent of the longleaf pine. She loved hiking among them. We carried our plant and bird guides in our backpacks, seeking to know the botany below and the avian wonders above—the amazing birds of the longleaf. The sounds of the longleaf pine come not just from the wind through their needles, but from the calls that the creatures inhabiting them send forth. My mom and I were thrilled every time the rich chorus burst forth around us.

As we hiked, we heard the crunch of pine needles below our feet. We heard the gentle and hushed call of the northern bobwhite. As evening approached, the back and forth of barred owls announced the transition from day to night. The chuck-will’s-widow welcomed the stars and the moon through the pines. We wandered up and down the hills and valleys of places like the Brooksville Ridge, along some of the highest points in Florida. Sandhills are not mountains, but in Florida, any elevation is worth noting and celebrating. 

We marveled at the science, practice, and magic of prescribed fire. We saw firsthand, many times, the transformational power it had in the longleaf forest. Green growth bursts forth from darkened ashes. New life surges into the world from the burnt offerings of the fire’s transition—nutrients recycled through fire.

Fire is the lifeblood of longleaf pines, as essential as water. Fire is to water as water is to fire in a longleaf forest. Both are equally important. Both nourish all things wild within the range of these mighty trees.

For years these magnificent landscapes disappeared across the American South, but then a small group of ecologists and foresters began to preach the gospel of prescribed fire. They connected the loss of so many elemental species of plants and animals in the South to the loss of longleaf pines. Longleaf systems on public lands that were overrun with oaks and sweetgums were gradually reclaimed, through effective management and prescribed fire. What was once thought lost was being found again.

The longleaf pine is truly the tree of life. Few trees are as essential to all forms of life beneath them, those of shell, fur, feather, and claw. When they wither, when they are lost to lack of fire or overharvest, all below them withers as well. When they are lost, ecological loss ripples in all directions.

My mom and I became pilgrims sharing a journey of restoration as we wandered among the pines and marveled. The trails we hiked helped her put cancer and illness behind her and embrace the wonder of life surging forth after loss.

Let us rejoice in all things longleaf, preserving these trees with fire and patience. By conserving these habitats and ecosystems on public and private lands, perhaps we can show future generations that we had the grace, humility, and wisdom to set right what we had so broken. Let us celebrate the longleaf pine. May their rich chorus forever define wild Florida.

Learn more about longleaf pines.

An edited and modified version of this essay appeared in The Invading Sea. Joe Murphy is a native and lifelong Floridian who lives in Brooksville, along the Nature Coast. Joe is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist for NWF’s Gulf Program and submits these blog posts as an alumnus and supporter. You can follow Joe on Facebook.

The anglers excitedly loaded their poles, coolers, and other gear onto the vessel before the sun was higher than the boom of the sailboats docked in the marina. With some light chit chat over bagels, coffee, and shared Dramamine for those who were less experienced with ocean fishing, we were on our way. 

The Block Island Inshore Fishing Tournament, our reason for assembling the group of 40 anglers, takes place every year over a weekend in late July off the coast of Rhode Island and in the ocean waters around Block Island. Nine species are included in the tournament: bonito, false albacore, bluefin tuna, yellowfin tuna, mahi mahi, fluke, black sea bass, bluefish, and striped bass.

This year, the National Wildlife Federation was a sponsor and chartered a boat for recreational anglers and conservationists to gather for a weekend of fishing, community, and camaraderie underneath the Revolution Wind, South Fork Wind, and Block Island Wind turbines. 

On the first day, we traveled out past Block Island to Revolution Wind, a 65-turbine offshore wind project that will generate 704 MW of clean, affordable, and reliable electricity for Rhode Island and Connecticut—the equivalent to powering 350,000 homes and businesses. 

The project will complete construction later this year, but began delivering power to the grid in March 2026. Power from Revolution Wind will help improve grid reliability. A study from Union of Concerned Scientists demonstrated that Revolution Wind and Vineyard Wind would have reduced New England’s blackout risk by 55% if it had been operational during the winter of 2024-2025. 

On the second day of the tournament, we traveled closer to the Block Island coast to fish near the Block Island Wind Farm, the first offshore wind project in the United States with five turbines that began sending power to the island in 2016.

Split into teams of five or six, the anglers put lines in the water to begin the competition. Soon, anglers were reeling in species like black sea Bass to log for their teams, and other species like Atlantic mackerel although they did not count for this tournament. 

Offshore Wind Up Close

Seeing offshore wind turbines for the first time, many of the anglers remarked on how the turbines differed from what they expected. 

“Seeing it up close puts things into perspective for sure,” said La’Tonya Blanding, an angler and Artemis Sportswoman Ambassador from South Carolina. “They are massive and the power they generate is immense but low sound.” 

Underneath the steadily moving blades of the turbine, it was easy to see how a single rotation of the blades could produce enough energy to power the average U.S. household for an entire day.

One participant even found an unexpected connection to their day job. Her workplace, specializing in electrical and power management, shared an article shortly after the trip about how a few of her colleagues participated in an offshore wind readiness program at the Revolution Wind substation. “I’m like wait, I was just there,” said the angler, “so freaking cool.”

“I have been a fan of using ‘green’ options for energy, after seeing these up close I was impressed by just how large they were!” said Jack Illingworth from the Massachusetts Striped Bass Association. “I don’t think my feelings about offshore have changed much, [but] I feel I can better explain my position now.”

Other local anglers said what they saw on the trip came as no surprise. One local noted on fishing in the project area: “I’ve been out there several times for tuna fishing trips, so I was not really surprised by the turbines’ size or the amount of life out there,” but added still, “I never grow tired of encountering whales out there.”

Whales, Dolphins, and Seabirds, Oh My!

And, across the board, the vast array of wildlife thriving around the offshore wind turbines awed the diverse coalition of anglers on the vessel. Within the project areas on our first day out, anglers saw pods of dolphins, various seabirds, and humpback whales breaching to feed near the turbines.

“Seeing the whales bubble feeding [was] just inspirational,” said one angler commenting on the strategy humpback whales sometimes use to catch krill or fish. The whales use ‘bubble-net feeding,’ or the exhalation of air from their blowholes while swimming in a circle, to encase their prey into a smaller underwater space that makes it easier to eat more at once. 

Research suggests that humpback whales learn this behavior from each other, but we are learning from it, too. A similar technology is used in the offshore wind industry to keep whales safe from the noise pollution created during the pile driving process of construction. 

The double ‘bubble curtains’ used during pile driving encase the monopile from the seafloor to the top of the water in a thick layer of bubbles, trapping sound waves inside and protecting whales and other marine mammals from auditory impacts. Developers ‘double’ the bubble curtains—or use two at once—to further prevent construction noise from disrupting marine habitats.

Under the Surface

The offshore wind project areas on the East Coast have become rich underwater ecosystems because of the structure the turbine foundations create for species. 

“I was amazed at the amount of marine mammals and bird life,” noted George Baldwin from the Connecticut Surfcasters Association. “It makes total sense, as fish (especially baitfish) are attracted to structure and the [turbine] bases provide that structure. Gamefish, seabirds, and marine mammals know to hunt around structures to find baitfish, so the windmills should prove beneficial in increasing the marine life in the area.”

Turbine reefs can create new opportunities for marine life across the food chain, including for anglers who can utilize the turbines’ reef effect for their own recreational fishing, and many of the anglers on the boat attested to the boon. 

“Last year, I caught most of my fish right at the base of the [turbines],” said Baldwin.

“The fact that nature and industry can coexist is always interesting to me, and demonstrating that to people is valuable,” said Johnny Marquez from Vanishing Paradise, a program of the National Wildlife Federation that unites sportsmen to advocate for the restoration of water ecosystems in the Gulf. “Seeing the whales was by far my highlight,”

James Riggs from the Rhode Island Saltwater Anglers Association echoed the same admiration for the whales and added, “[I’ll] never forget it.”

Cameradie Across a Big Boat

The weekend ended on Block Island with an awards party at Captain Nicks Rock N Roll Bar with awards for shore, youth, and boat divisions, and best photos. A team from our charter won for best team photo in front of a turbine.

Many anglers noted incredible connections they made with new folks who brought differing perspectives to their engagement in the fishing community and conversation. With anglers coming from different day jobs, fishing clubs, parts of the country, and personal experiences, the boat was ripe for conversation during downtime—an experience that for some was just as, if not more, impactful than the fishing. 

“I had the chance to talk with people I would not normally come across in my daily life either at my job or recreationally, and enjoyed hearing about what they are doing and learned about many things going on around the country,” said Jack Illingworth from the Massachusetts Striped Bass Association. “Many of which I can share with my fishing club and hopefully generate additional support for their causes or work.”  

Another angler, from the West Coast, expressed a similar enthusiasm about connecting to anglers from different parts of the country to discuss fisheries and offshore wind: “Getting to connect with so many new people from across the nation who are invested in and care about the future of our oceans was inspiring and fulfilling. I appreciated the opportunity to connect and hear about East Coast fisheries—crazy fish that are so similar but also so different from the ones on the West Coast—and the recreational angling culture.” 

He added, “just seeing the wind turbines helped me understand what our West Coast may look like in the future.”

“The focused and shared time with a fellow angler and emerging friend from my town and local fishing club was precious,” said Christa Drew from the Cape Code Salties Sportsfishing Club, who recounted a particularly meaningful conversation with one of her tournament team members on policy in her state. “I was inspired to have time with some other anglers and non-anglers who also care about the environment and conservation in an informed and passionate way.”

Anglers walked away from the weekend feeling inspired to talk to others about how healthy ocean ecosystems can exist next to offshore wind, and spoke directly to how they were going to put this experience into action in their circles. 

“I do a lot of conservation work with our fisheries,” said Baldwin, “and am now more inspired to try and influence people to accept wind power as a valid and valuable component in plans to replace dirty fuels that change our atmosphere and our climate, endangering our world and our existence.”

Learn more about responsible offshore wind and recreational fishing and connect with other anglers at the Anglers for Offshore Wind Power website, and connect with them on Facebook and Instagram.

Muir, a conservationist and co-founder of the Sierra Club, was a young man at 29 when he walked, seeking to quench his thirst for botanical knowledge as he traversed roughly 1000 miles. When I reflect on that journey today, is there some motivational truth in his adventure, in that spontaneous act of motion and boldness, that might speak to my heart and soul all these years later? As we seek to conserve nature, and are there lessons from his travels we can learn from?

If you don’t know the story of Muir’s walk, here goes the expedient and simplified version. Muir was injured, recovered and dedicated his life to the study and appreciation of nature. He began in northern Kentucky, in 1867, and walked to the Gulf at Cedar Key, Florida. He traveled across a war-ravaged American South and was a passionate student of botany, hoping to explore and understand the landscapes he passed through.

But the humble mosquito laid him low! It is believed that malaria struck as he entered Florida near Fernandina Beach and was in full force when he reached Cedar Key and the Gulf, where he had to rest for several months. 

Two powerful and transformative things occurred in Cedar Key on the shores of the Gulf: First, he decided that traveling through warm, moist climates was not for him. Originally intending to head to the southernmost tip of South America, his experience with malaria changed his mind. Instead, he went west in search of California’s wilderness and temperate climate. That change in plans changed American conservation and American nature writing forever.

Second, and just as importantly, he developed his version of a philosophy called “deep ecology.” He came to believe, after profound soul searching and reflection, that all of nature had its own intrinsic value separate from its value to humanity.

Nature had its own right to exist. Out of this powerful epiphany was born the American conservation movement. And little old Cedar Key along the Gulf was part of where it all happened.

Muir found boldness, a sense of adventure and faith grounded in a deep passion for the world. It led him to write great works of nature writing, it led him to form the Sierra Club and it led him to invite President Teddy Roosevelt to join him on a backcountry camping trip that eventually led to the creation of Yosemite National Park.

Muir’s sense of adventure, his courage to walk through the natural world not with fear but with curiosity, and his eventual willingness to use the spoken and written word to advocate for all things wild was born in part on his journey to the Gulf. May we find inspiration and guidance today as we seek to do the same.

Learn more about Muir’s “A Thousand Mile Walk to the Gulf” and his time in Florida or visit the Cedar Key Museum State Park to learn more about the Cedar Key Muir visited. 

Joe Murphy is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist for NWF’s Gulf Program. He contributes these posts as a NWF supporter and alumnus. Joe lives along the Nature Coast of Florida. You can follow Joe on Facebook.

Read this blog to learn more about the practice of forest bathing and to access tips and resources on how to level up your outdoor events this summer through forest bathing, nature appreciation, and wildlife education.

What Is Forest Bathing?

Forest bathing, at its core, is the practice of blending mindfulness and nature appreciation. In many ways, cultures across the globe have long understood a connection between spending time outdoors and improved mood and mental health. 

The first official studies about this relationship began in Japan in the late 80s, when scientists started investigating the links between spending quality time outdoors and improved mood and lower stress.

The country noticed that its highly overworked and productive workforce was experiencing increased stress and burnout. They responded by encouraging shinrin-yoku, which means “taking in the forest air,” to de-stress. 

Shinrin-yoku, or forest bathing, was popularized by Japanese physician Dr. Quing Li as a practice that blends mindfulness and nature appreciation to improve wellness. 

De-Mystifying Forest Bathing: My Personal Journey 

This summer, I did my first non-traditional forest-bathing exercise in Austin, Texas. When I first learned I would be doing forest bathing during my trip, I thought I needed formal training to participate or appreciate the experience.

I also assumed we needed to be in a forest to truly practice forest bathing. When the opportunity arose, I was surprised to learn that forest bathing felt incredibly natural to me. 

Through a guided session led by someone intimately familiar with the land and its wild creatures, I slowed down and connected with nature through mindfulness and meditation. I saw my first painted bunting, a northern cardinal, and on the ground, I saw inchworms, anthills, prickly pear cactus, and many more creatures. 

I learned that forest bathing, simply put, is the practice of blending mindfulness and meditation with an appreciation of nature. I didn’t need to be in a forest to go through the experience, and you don’t either!

The experience opened my eyes to how forest bathing can be a powerful tool for wildlife education. I was fully present, relaxed, and immersed in a small garden, and I felt like a sponge, absorbing new information about local Texas wildlife and pollinators.

I left my experience wanting to encourage others to embrace the experience and its potential for enhancing environmental education outcomes.

You can practice forest bathing in any natural environment, your backyard, a local park, or a Certified Wildlife Habitat garden. Forest bathing is a great way to introduce wildlife and pollinator education to any group and community. 

Check out these tips to educate your friends, family, and community about local wildlife and pollinators through mindfulness and nature appreciation. 

Steps to Practice Forest Bathing or “Mindfulness in Nature” Where You Live, Learn, Work, Play, and Worship 

• Find a place to sit in stillness, preferably in a garden, your backyard, a meadow, or any natural environment. 
• Slow down and take in your surroundings through your five senses. Spend 1-2 minutes exploring each sense.
• Notice the farthest thing you can hear, then focus on what you can hear the closest to you. 
• Open your eyes and focus on one living critter you can see, and observe how it moves across the land. 
• Take time to point out and share some fun facts about birds, pollinators, and other wild critters native to your area.

Record Your Sightings, Mood, and More in a Nature Journal 

• Print out NWF’s Summer Nature Notebook and ask participants to record their mood before and after your activity. Hopefully, people notice a change in stress levels or anxiety, as spending quality time in nature has been shown to improve mental health.
• Ask people to record what stood out to them during the experience. Which plants, birds, or pollinators caught their eye? 
• Play Butterfly Bingo and see if you can spot a butterfly or moth doing any of their common behaviors, whether it’s flocking, puddling, or more! 

Host Your Own Mindful Nature Events and Outdoor Activities this Summer 

Forest bathing is an experience that anyone can practice at home, in a local park, or a small garden. Hosting your own forest bathing experiences can be a powerful tool to introduce new groups to the concept of blending mindfulness and quality time in nature while enhancing environmental education. 

NWF has a collection of quizzes that will prime you with some fun facts you can add to your toolbox as you take your friends, family, or community on your own forest bathing adventure. 

Expand your knowledge with these NWF quizzes: 

• Our Petals and Pollinators quiz showcases how plants and pollinators have co-evolved over thousands of years, with plants developing complex ways to attract pollinators and pollinators developing specialized traits to enhance their pollination effectiveness.

Read more about how to garden for pollinators using evolutionary history in our newest blog.

• Take our How Much Do You Know About Bees quiz and expand your knowledge about our mightiest pollinators.
• Learn more about monarch butterflies, where they migrate, how to identify them, and more with our monarch butterfly quiz. 
• Did you know some bats are pollinators? Learn bat facts and test your bat knowledge with our quiz!

Bonus Section: Here are some other fun summer activities, particularly for youth! 

• Download Ranger Rick’s Nature Notebook and use the activities to explore nature this summer! 
• Our Endangered Species Day Coloring Book is a great year-round activity that blends art and education for any age.  

On a darkened, windswept beach along the coast of Georgia, a sea turtle nested as we struggled to build our family. The magic, the miracle she shared with us that evening, still resonates through our family today.

When my wife and I adopted our children, it was wild and natural shared experiences that bonded us as a family in those fragile early days. Starting a new family with kids who have experienced trauma, you realize you have no stories as a family yet. You must build them as you experience them and retell them as often as you can.

Nature offered a safe place for us to build a family. We could learn about new places and each other at the same time. We could find the beauty and wonder of nature as we discovered the beauty and wonder in each other. The deep bonds of connection and the natural world saved us.

A trip to Jekyll Island, Georgia and a nighttime Turtle Walk with the Georgia Sea Turtle Center (GSTC) was a first step. It proved a pivotal moment in the evolution of our family.

Our kids begged us to go on the nighttime Turtle Walk on the beach. Their enthusiasm was contagious, and we obliged. We gathered for a program at GSTC. The excitement grew from there. The young guides who would lead the walk described what we might see and captured the magic of what the evening could bring.

As we walked along the open and wild beach all the sights, sounds and smells of a beach at night greeted us. A high tide brought the breaking waves closer. In the gathering cool of the evening, into a brisk wind, we walked. And walked. But nary a complaint was heard.

Suddenly the guide’s radio crackled to life! “Head down the beach to the south end of the island. There is a nesting female near the overlook for the soccer fields. She is nesting right now!”

Our kids were leaping with joy. They hustled us along as fast as we could go, and soon we were there. 

Before us unfolded a miracle of life that had occurred in elemental cycles as far back in the natural history of the Earth as we could fathom. Back into deep time, into geologic times before humanity, known only to the Earth itself.  We were watching evolution in motion.

We stood awestruck and transfixed as the female loggerhead sea turtle laid her eggs. 

Our guides whispered and kept us at a safe and respectful distance. They allowed the children to slowly approach the turtle in small groups. A hush fell over them as they watched the magic of the coast and of the turtle.

We lost track of time as everything condensed into the power of that moment. Soon the winds increased and the flashes of lighting mixed with the rumbles of thunder grew closer. The first cold drops of rain began to fall.  It was time to go.

As we drove back to the hotel our children recounted, over and over and almost breathlessly, what they had witnessed. It was like the recounting of it would extend the magic. 

That night changed us. It is the deep truth. We had a beautiful, powerful, positive shared experience that we could pass around like a sacred object. Soon, we added more of those sacred objects and memories to create a mosaic of love and memory.

That turtle, that beach, that nest, and that trip became part of our journey to wholeness. We owe that turtle a deep and immense debt of gratitude. Many years later, we still tell that story.

I support NWF’s efforts to conserve the marine and coastal resources of the Gulf and South Atlantic. Wildlife depends on large, healthy ecosystems for the full life cycle from birth to breeding age to long life. NWF works hard to ensure lights out on beaches for nesting and to protect effective endangered species regulations in places like the Gulf, so sea turtles are safe as they move across the vast oceans of the Americas.

While NWF does this work for the turtles, it has tremendous benefit for people as well. Our family cherishes this.

We are planning a trip soon to take my granddaughters to that very same spot, that beach bathed in celestial light, and hope that it is magic again. We are returning as the nesting sea turtle did.  Like the turtle we will use our version of natal homing and our collective memory to revisit a place of great importance. The cycle continues.

An edited version of this blog appeared previously in The Invading Sea. Joe Murphy is a native and lifelong Floridian who lives in Brooksville, Florida along the Nature Coast. Joe is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist for NWF’s Gulf Program and submits these blogs as a member, supporter, and alumnus of NWF. You can follow Joe on Facebook.

GSTC is one of the south’s premier sea turtle education and rehabilitation centers. Their Turtle Walks are designed to be exciting, educational, but above all else safe for the nesting turtle. To learn more, visit their website.

That’s why every fall, my elementary school art teacher would load our class onto a bus and take us to Henderson Bird Viewing Preserve. Together, we’d sit quietly along the banks of the preserve’s wetland and sketch our entries for the Junior Duck Stamp Contest.

While the blazing sun beat down the same as ever, it felt like our class had been transported to an oasis, and the usually quiet desert was teeming with life. Warblers and thrushes darted through the brush. Native waterfowl like mallards and ruddy ducks drifted and dove across the open water.

My pencil was never quite quick enough to capture the fleeting motion, but that didn’t matter to me. It was a way to connect with nature in a place where it can feel so scarce.

But Nevada is only getting drier. The American Southwest is undergoing a severe “mega-drying,” and in Nevada, studies show that nearly 40% of groundwater wells have experienced major water level declines. Groundwater-dependent ecosystems like wetlands shrink as a result.

For waterfowl, that means fewer places to land and feed during migratory season. These small, fragile habitats that support the majority of wildlife in Nevada could disappear altogether.

Nevada’s wetlands rely on conservation efforts from hunters and anglers. In 1934, sportsmen, concerned about dwindling duck populations, rallied around the Migratory Bird Hunting and Conservation Stamp Act, commonly known as the Duck Stamp Act.

Signed by President Roosevelt, the act established the Duck Stamp Program, an annually released stamp featuring wildlife art. The first Duck Stamp was designed by renowned conservationist and National Wildlife Federation’s first president, Jay N. “Ding” Darling.

Today, the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service holds an annual competition for artists and wildlife enthusiasts to showcase their bird-themed artwork, with the winning design printed on that year’s Duck Stamp. They also host the Junior Duck Stamp Contest, an entry point into conservation for many (including myself).

Not only do these stamps raise awareness for conservation, but the Duck Stamp Program has been one of the most successful tools for funding wetland protection.

Since its inception, the Duck Stamp has raised over $1.3 billion dollars and protected over 6 million acres of habitat for waterfowl and countless other species. Artist or not, you can help support wetland conservation. 98% of the proceeds of the Duck Stamp go directly towards acquiring and protecting wetland habitat for the National Wildlife Refuge System.

Those who are interested in entering the 2026 Duck Stamp Contest can submit their art to the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service Headquarters from June 1 to August 15, 2026. This year, contestants can choose from this list of approved species to feature on their design:

• Cackling Goose
• Blue-winged Teal
• Mottled Duck
• Long-tailed Duck
• King Eider

You can learn more about the Duck Stamp Contest submission guidelines here.

In Florida we call our Bigfoot by their proper Florida name, Skunk Apes. “Skunk” refers to the purported strong horrible odor that surrounds them. And “Ape” is a reference to their primate-like qualities. 

My appreciation of conservation biology leads me to profound skepticism, but I do hold out hope that an Ivory-billed Woodpecker or two still haunts the deepest, most remote swamps and lowlands left in Florida. Perhaps they occasionally gaze down at a Skunk Ape from their secretive perches or cavity trees.

What does it mean when all the mystery of a place is gone? How does that shape our concept of wilderness? Is the darkened swamp more valuable to us because we think something mysterious might still be out there, just beyond what we understand? 

The Gulf Coast of Florida, while highly developed in many places, still has some long stretches of remote refuges and preserves filled with longleaf pines, oak hammocks, cypress stands, seagrass meadows, coastal marshes, swamps, spring fed rivers and blackwater and alluvial river basins.

Chassahowitzka Wildlife Management Area and National Wildlife Refuge, Lower Suwannee National Wildlife Refuge, Big Bend Wildlife Management Area, the southern portions of Apalachicola State Forest and Tate’s Hell State Forest all seem like good Skunk Ape territory. Remote and wild still.

Rumor holds that Goethe State Forest is a hot bed of sightings of Skunk Apes. Articles have appeared in local newspapers over the years. Is the truth indeed out there? 

When I started my research for this essay I immediately was drawn to something intriguing and somewhat heartwarming. Those who are seeking the Skunk Ape in Goethe frequently take and leave gift baskets for them. In today’s current environment, this small act of kindness seems almost quaint and surely heartfelt.

But what exactly does one put in said basket? Further research led me to several examples of beef jerky, crackers, and loose tobacco being offered as gifts between Homo sapiens and Gigantopithecus Ameripithecus Floridanus (ok, truth be told there is not one accepted scientific name for Skunk Apes as technically they are not recognized by western science, BUT this is the best name I could hobble together after a few meanders through Google and A.I.).

One early morning in March, a glorious spring day filled with a sense of exploration and adventure, I left as the sun rose and headed north to Goethe State Forest into a morning rich with possibility. 

A convenience store near Inglis, Florida offered the gift basket supplies I needed. I assumed a Skunk Ape would appreciate me opening the beef jerky and cracker packages for them. I took great pride in my purchases. I bundled them in a handmade basket my mom had woven. Perhaps sharing the crafts of our species, made by hand in an ancient art form, would strengthen the connection and my odds of communion.

It would be easy to treat this as a joke, but as I drove a deeper set of questions began to form in my mind. Could a state as populated as Florida still harbor a creature that remained a mystery to science? Indeed, had it in days long past when fewer people called the Sunshine State home?

The Seminole word for Skunk Apes was “Esti Capcki.” Numerous newspaper articles from the 1800s mention sightings. Florida’s human population in 1900 was only roughly 500,000 people making it the least populated state in the American South. Oh, how times have changed.

As the day ended and sunset approached, I headed home with my gift basket retrieved from where I had left it, leaving no trace (take only pictures, leave only footprints). I will however be back, bearing gifts and good wishes.

I will take my mystery and wonder of nature through the philosophy of deep ecology, the belief that nature has its own value separate from us and our needs. Nature has all the wonder and mystery I need, and this deserves preservation. But, a Skunk Ape could not hurt. Particularly one with an Ivory-billed Woodpecker as a neighbor.

Click here to learn more about Goethe State Forest.

An edited and abridged version of this essay originally appeared in FAU’s The Invading Sea.

Joe Murphy is a former Wildlife Policy Specialist for NWF and contributes blog posts to the NWF Gulf Program as an alumnus and supporter. He occasionally is mistaken for a Skunk Ape when out on the river or the trail. No apologies needed, but a gift basket wouldn’t hurt. You can follow Joe on Facebook (https://bit.ly/joemurphyfacebook