GoHydrology.org

Groundhog eye view

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 19:00:00 +0000

View of a marl prairie from two feet high

Groundhog day spun upside down

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 00:22:00 +0000

January is on average the coldest part of the year.

But just a few days later comes Groundhog Day which means warming is on the way.

Florida has Groundhog Day:
Only it's Labor Day and reversed instead.

Of course it's been warm all winter long in Florida -- especially this year -- so it doesn't really count. It isn't the depth of the winter that necessarily rattles northerner's bones, rather it's the long duration that trips them up at the end.

They call it the spring blues.

Spring time blues usually don't strike until March or April as a result of the warm weather not quite breaking through thus miring the fine citizenry of New England, the northern Great Plains and the Finger Lakes into a moribund melancholia that only a warm dose of summer could shake free.

Our equivalent on the south peninsula is the fall funk.

Continental spring blues follow Groundhog Day ...
Similarly the fall funk follows Labor Day on the peninsula

The fall funk invades a Floridians psyche in the weeks following Labor Day, i.e. the traditional portal into crisp autumn air on the continent, when hot and humid weather shows no sign of letting up, sinking us into a swampy malaise that only a strong cold front could hope to shake free.

Thus, south Florida does have a Groundhog Day ...

Only it's the complete opposite and Labor Day instead.

Can you see the giant groundhog hole?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Actually, that's a cypress dome.

My favorite holiday approaches

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 03:04:00 +0000

My kids always ask me:

"Dad, what's your favorite holiday?"

"I see it! I see it! There it is!"

Surely, they assume, it must be Christmas or Halloween, possibly even Thanksgiving ... or how about Fourth of July? "Do birthdays count as holidays?" inevitably enters the debate.

I shake my head no to them all and answer Groundhog Day instead.

"Whaaat? That doesn't make sense!" They laugh in dismay.

"Someday you'll understand," I cryptically assure them.

The charismatic groundhog

Dads are sometimes difficult to understand.

Rumbling down the road

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Can you see where the road cuts through the strand?
A bridge at that spots sends the water south.

How long does the winter mosaic last?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 00:57:00 +0000

Here's a good view of the winter mosaic:

Can you see the hardwood hammock, pinelands, marl prairie, dwarf prairie, tall cypress, and marsh in the photograph below?

Can you see the palm trees?

How long does the winter mosaic last?

Usually by March the cypress are fully greened out.

The mosaic is harder to see
once it greens out in March

But greener should not be confused with moister.

Spring also coincides with the swamps seasonal drought.

Ironically, the cypress sort of have a hand in the matter.

It's the increased tug of transpiration of their roots on the water table below that dries the shallow aquifer further and further down to the point that, sometime in the spring, even the swamp's natural fire breaks, i.e. cypress stands and domes, go dry.

Kissimmee Billy Strand looking south

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sun, 29 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Can you see Alligator Alley?

Center of a strand is hard to find

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 23:23:00 +0000

Cypress domes are isolated holes ...

Whereas strands are directional swales.

Kissimmee Billy Strand looking north

All the major strands are named ...

Whereas none of the cypress domes are.

I sort of prefer the domes over strands because for one I like the idea of being in a no name swamp that you can't put a pithy label on exactly where you were, thus promoting a feeling of being lost but still knowing where you are.

Plus, they are easier to walk into.

Swamp walks are a slow go

You have to trudge through a lot of trees to find the center of a strand.

Getting there isn't always easy going.

Lone cypress tree

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Can you see the tree curtain in back?
That's a cypress strand.

Hydrologist ponders infinity

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 01:30:00 +0000

The first step is always the hardest:

From there are infinite paths you can take.

It's fun blazing a trail through new ground ...

Even if, invariably, I end up focusing on one thing.

More winter mosaic

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

dome, pineland, dome, pineland (repeat)

Winter vs summer swamp

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 00:44:00 +0000

Here's a quick comparison between the winter and summer swamp.

The swamp mosaic is easiest to see during winter.

That's because the cypress trees lose their needles and turn gray.

Pine islands are harder to see during summer.
During the winter they really jump out.

But the true difference is most evident on the ground:

Cypress domes are filled with water during the summer whereas by the end of winter they are at various stage of drying down.

Cypress knees stand as tall as their name,
but water rises up them only shin deep.

There is also that temperature thing ...

And mosquitoes.

Mullet Slough below!

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Mullet slough is a sea of mostly cypress
as far as the eye can see

Mosaic-less swamp?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 00:24:00 +0000

Winter is the best time for viewing the swamp mosaic ...

Unless you're in a spot where it isn't there.

This video explains.

Kingsley Lake

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Can you see St Johns River, too?

Do two negatives make a positive?

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 01:36:00 +0000

Of all the lakes you see when flying over Florida ...

One of them in particular doesn’t look right.

Lake Apopka looks as thick as pea soup

It’s Lake Apopka.

No, it’s not short for Apopkalypse, but some would argue it’s reached that point. Once a popular fishing destination, over nutrification fueled algae blooms which, decades later, have accumulated into a thick layer of benthic muck.

The result?

The lake just won’t heal because the water’s too murky for native submerged aquatic plants. I could literally see that muck swirling like pea soup from the 35,000 feet in the air.

The solution?

Could an invasive exotic aquatic plant called hydrilla suffice instead? It thrives in murky and would make the water less so by taking root, plus provide habitat for fish and waterfowl ... but it could prove difficult to control or fully reverse, too. Click here to read a newspaper article in the Orlando Sentinel that describes more.

The road south of the lake leads east to Orlando

Do two negatives make a positive?

In the mathematics of modern-day water management they just might.

Lake Mead stages a comeback

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Lake Okeechobee rose three ft after October.
Lake Mead rose around 50 ft in 2011.

"Very good" canyon

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 01:55:00 +0000

I just finished re-reading Down The Great Unknown:

The story of General John Wesley Powell’s Journey of Discovery and Tragedy through the Grand Canyon by author Edward Dolnick.

The Grand Canyon may look the same,
but its hydrograph is night and day different.

By re-read I mean it’s probably the third or fourth time.

Powell himself went down the river twice, the second time of which he didn’t make it full way and, much to the dismay of his crew members the second time around, were not mentioned in his seminal account of his harrowing escapade. Another interesting fact is that Powell's crew ran the rapids facing backwards. The "facing the danger" technique of running river rapids had not yet been invented. Most amazing of all, of course, is that Powell only had one arm.

What would Powell think of the river today?

The book mentions that the run of the Colorado through the Grand Canyon is much the same as it was with the notable exception that its hydrograph has dramatically changed.

Prior to 1960 the river ran free.

It regularly peaked upwards of 80,000 cubic feet per second (cfs) in the late spring only to drop down to a miniscule trickle, often under 7.000 cfs, for the rest of the year.

By modern standards, 2011 was a big flow year.

It marked the first year since the late 1990s

that water stage in downstream Lake Mead went up.

Compare that to the river today.

River flow is carefully regulated at upstream Glen Canyon Dam between a narrow range of 7,000 and 40,000 cfs. The seasonal swing from flood to drought is gone.

Do I, like Powell, have aspirations of running the river?

More than likely I’ll just re-read the book (...again)!

Snake bird

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

Fish beware:
Anhingas are formidable underwater swimmers.
They look snake like when they stick their
heads out of the water, too.

City snake goes country

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 23:03:00 +0000

This rattlesnake behind this sign wasn't bothering anybody ...

But people were starting to bother it, so it needed to be moved.

This isn't the safest home for a rattlesnake
for all parties involved

That's when we called in a highly qualified wildlife biologist to do the job.

On the opposite side of the rock that it was curled up under is a metal placard that indicates where it is: H.P. Williams Wayside Park to which several hundreds of passing visitors stop every day. Usually the attraction is alligators in the nearby canal, but with waters so high in November, most of them were out of sight in the swamp. And thus this rattlesnake was attracting quite a crowd.

Is that one or two anhingas?

Three months later waters have dropped.

That means gators are back in the canal and visitors are back on the boardwalk with binoculars and cameras taking in the view.

Four miles up the road are some pinelands.

That's where the rattlesnake is now.

More room and less people:
What's a rattlesnake not to love about this pineland?

Who says everyone can't be happy and safe?

There's enough room in the swamp for all.

Watch out: Rattlesnake!

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

This rattlesnake wasn't bothering anybody

Snake mosaic

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 00:16:00 +0000

Where else can you go from rattlesnake high ground ...

to water moccasin swamp in a single step?

My guess is that there is a snake or two
down there somewhere.

At least that's what I'm thinking about when I look at this photo. Rattlesnakes inhabit the palmetto understory of the pineland in the foreground. Just a few steps away in the shaded and shallowing water of the cypress dome is its venomous counterpart.

I call it the snake mosaic.

As for the python?

From what I've been told they can go practically anywhere: mangroves, palmetto, sawgrass plain, pineland, hammock, tree islands, dry prairies, swimming pools and even coastal estuary. Here's to hoping there aren't any hanging out up in the cypress branches, too.

The case for stream hopping

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

"Lost and found" swamp

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 01:26:00 +0000

Can being lost be fun?

In part that's what conserving large natural areas is all about.

It's nice to know that there's someplace out there that when you go, and even if you don't, that for a moment or a minute an hour or over a day, that its just you and yourself and the wind.

Finding yourself implies you must first get lost.

Yet more swamp years!

noreply@blogger.com (Robert Sobczak) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 19:00:00 +0000

The swamp saw it's soggiest fall since 2005,
but not as soggy as winter 1994-95 and 1997-98