Striped burrfish are fascinating to watch in the wild and in aquariums. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
I have a vivid memory of snorkeling the seagrass beds around Port St. Joe when I was an undergraduate marine biology student. Our field research lab involved completing a visual fish survey, using waterproof dive slates and pencils to record the number and species of any fish that swam past us. I was conducting my survey fairly rigorously until a 6” long striped burrfish (Chilomycterus schoepfi) moved into my field of vision. It hovered in front of me, looking over with its gigantic puppy-like eyes, and proceeded to gently nibble on everything in sight. There are very few fish one might characterize as “cute,” but this charismatic little guy was adorable. Completely abandoning the task at hand, I stopped counting other fish and proceeded to slowly swim behind this little burrfish as it fed and swam throughout the grass bed. It was completely unfazed by my presence—I stopped to watch while it ate, then used my flippers to slowly navigate behind when it started moving again. I must have followed this fish for 30 minutes, simply observing its behavior. I could have sworn it looked back and me and signaled, “come on!” with a fin every time it moved to another location. I’ve snorkeled countless times since then, but bonding with this little fish was such a singular experience that I can visualize it clearly almost 30 years later.
A Southern puffer (left) and striped burrfish (right) in side-by-side comparison. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Hence, I’ve always had a soft spot for the striped burrfish. We occasionally pull juveniles up in a seine when taking groups out in the field, and they often puff up in response to the shock of being temporarily captured. Frequently misidentified as their Tetradont relatives, the Southern puffer (Spheroides nephelus), the burrfish is similar in size and habitat. However, they are fairly easy to differentiate by their dorsal color patterns. As the name implies, striped burrfish have brown stripes, while puffers have more of a mottled pattern. Both species have bright white countershading on their bellies (aka “ventral” side), helping them blend in with the sky above when viewed from below by potential predators. They also utilize similar defense mechanisms, filling their bodies with air or water when threatened so they physically expand, appearing bigger and more difficult to fit into a larger fish’s mouth. Burrfish also have rigid spines that point out from their bodies when in self-defense mode. This adaptation makes them more complicated to digest for a would-be attacker. Many members of this Order of fishes produce a dangerous neurotoxin, further deterring predatory attacks.
Striped burrfish expand their bodies to twice normal size when threatened. Photo credit: NOAA
To the human observer, it’s anything but intimidating to see a fish transform into a ping pong ball with fins, but the strategy must work because there are around 120 species of puffers and porcupinefish in the Order Tetraodontiformes that use this technique.
As young burrfish mature, their front teeth fuse into a tough “beak,” which they use to break through the shells of their prey. As I experienced while snorkeling, burrfish are slow swimmers, using their wide terminal mouths and large jaws to nibble on shellfish, sea urchins, and barnacles. Their characteristic body shape is boxy, built not for speed but to cruise reefs and grassbeds. Armored with spikes, poison, and the element of surprise, striped burrfish can afford to take their time and relax in the water.
The North American Coastal Plain. Diagram courtesy Musa Jundi, UF Biodiversity Institute.
According to Conservation International, there are 36 biodiversity hotspots worldwide. These are defined as areas with “at least 1,500 vascular plants as endemics — which is to say, it must have a high percentage of plant life found nowhere else on the planet. A hotspot, in other words, is irreplaceable. It must have 30% or less of its original natural vegetation. In other words, it must be threatened.”
An exhibit at the Biophilia Center in Walton County highlights the biodiversity of our region. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Only two of these 36 biodiversity hotspots lie within the United States, including the North American Coastal Plain, which stretches from Texas along the Gulf Coast and up the Atlantic coast. The state of Florida rests fully within the coastal plain. Within that region, northwest Florida is the hottest “biodiversity hotspot,” one of just six designated regions in North America.
Why us? How did our little corner of the state earn such notoriety? If you’ve ever spent August here, you know how very hot and humid it gets in the summer. As we experienced with the snow and freeze a couple of weeks ago, the Panhandle endures some rather extreme temperatures that fall within our natural range. Our coastal communities sit just above sea level, but we’ve also got hills—while not terribly high (345 feet), the state’s highest point is in Walton County. Along the bluffs of the Apalachicola are whispers of the last Ice Age, where fingers of the Appalachian Mountain range are visible in the same hardwood species and geologic formations typical of north Georgia and Tennessee.
Florida Master Naturalist students visit Britton Hill, the highest point in Florida. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
As they say, variety is the spice of life, and this wide spectrum of livable habitats, from coastal marsh to high and dry ridges means we have more options for plants and wildlife to inhabit. The Florida panhandle is home to more than 2500 plant species, 300 species of birds, and 25 species of salamanders, including many endemic species found nowhere else in the world. The oxygen-deprived soils of our flatwood bogs give rise to dozens of carnivorous plant species. They’ve adapted to poor nutrition in the soil by supplementing with insects. Vast waterways mean we have 500 species of saltwater fish and at least 85-90 freshwater fish, including those that live a portion of their life cycle in both.
In the wild world of pitcher plant bogs, frogs compete with plants for insect prey. Photo credit: UF IFAS Extension
A project known as the Northwest Florida Greenway Corridor is actively being funded and set aside to create a 150,000 acre conservation region connecting two million acres of protected land including Blackwater River State Forest, Eglin Air Force Base, and Apalachicola National Forest . Along with coastal barrier islands and inland areas of Gulf Islands National Seashore, these huge swaths of land enable large species like bears, alligators, and cats to roam with less interference from human development. Restoration of longleaf pine and dune ecosystems mean the land and waters are managed to ensure the survival of smaller endangered species like flatwoods salamanders, beach mice, gopher tortoises, red cockaded woodpeckers, and sea turtles. The confluence of less development (compared with densely urban areas to our south), large state and national parks, and protected military bases have allowed plants and wildlife to thrive unlike any other region.
The presence of dragonfly larvae is a sign of good water quality. Photo credit: UF IFAS Extension
In science, we measure both species richness (the number of different species in an area) and abundance (actual number of individuals) to come up with an index for species diversity. Generally, the higher these numbers, the healthier the ecosystem. A clear example of this can be seen when monitoring water quality in streams. If you sample the macroinvertebrate population of a creek and find only bloodworms, you know water quality conditions are terrible. These species can survive in sewage water. But, if you find dozens of species, particularly the larvae of pollution-sensitive caddisflies, mayflies, and stoneflies, this indicates the water is clean and hospitable to a wide variety of species. These insects serve as the basis of the food web for fish, crabs, and larger animals that maintain a healthy ecosystem.
The layered canopies of trees with diverse fruit and flowers provide habitat for thousands of bird, reptile, mammal, amphibian, and insect species, making it the most biodiverse habitat type on the planet. Photo courtesy Manuel Antonio National Park, Costa Rica.
It’s generally understood in ecology that the “higher the diversity, the greater the stability.” When we create monocultures—ecosystems containing one or only a handful of dominant species types—these systems are weak and susceptible to attack. Agricultural operations that grow one crop are prime examples of how monocultures can be highly vulnerable—orange groves devastated by disease or freezes; chicken farms wiped out by avian influenza. They cannot adapt to threats, and being genetically similar they can be easily devastated by a single disease or environmental threat. Having a diversity of species creates a redundant “back-up” system for crucial ecosystem services, like providing pollen, erosion management, or shade from extreme heat if other species suffer from pathogens or parasites.
Agriculturists recommend rotating crops annually or seasonally to increase soil health and prevent the weaknesses brought on by monocultures. Photo credit: Ann Blount, UF IFAS Extension
Just like economists measure the health of an economy by productivity, ecologists can analyze ecosystems mathematically. And where are those most productive ecosystems located? It’s not the extreme habitats of tundra, grassland, and desert, where only a handful of species survive. The most productive ecosystems—those cycling nutrients, producing oxygen, and converting solar energy to biomass, are the most diverse ones. At the top are tropical rainforests, coral reefs, and estuarine swamps and marshes. These ecosystems have thousands of moving parts and are virtually impenetrable to a single disease or pest wiping them out. If one species suffers, there are so many backups to fill in and perform the important roles. In fact, the only disturbance any of these systems can’t defend against are complete clearing or extreme pollution by humans.
The world is much bigger than humanity. It is wise to consider the words of my favorite biologist, E.O. Wilson. An expert on insects, especially ants, he once said, “If all mankind were to disappear, the world would regenerate back to the rich state of equilibrium that existed ten thousand years ago. If insects were to vanish, the environment would collapse into chaos.”
The Chinese wu-ful symbol is a ring of bats used to symbolize luck and blessings in life.
When I start talking about bats, it often elicits a strong response in people. Folks either gush about how great they are, how interesting and helpful, or they shudder and talk about how bats give them the creeps. I understand why they make people nervous. They hide out and swoop around in the dark, may show up in unwanted places (like attics or sheds), and are omnipresent in every creepy horror movie or Halloween theme. Interestingly, the have absolutely the opposite cultural reputation in China. There, bats have been considered a symbol of good luck for millennia. Buildings, jewelry, artwork, etc. are adorned with bats or the “wu-fu” symbol, a circle of five bats. I certainly come down on the side of “bats are the best ever.” Collectively, the bats in our communities eat millions of mosquitoes and agricultural pests every night. Without them, we’d be overrun with insects, disease, and damaged crops.
A wildlife biologist feeds an overwhelmed mother bat and her young after they were found on the ground. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
As a mom, I also have the utmost respect for bat mothers. When a member of this acrobatic species gives birth, it’s done while hanging upside down by her feet. When the baby is born, mom catches it in her wings and the newborn crawls up to her abdomen. Bat babies are not tiny, either—at birth, they are typically up to a third of an adult bat’s weight. Can you imagine giving birth to a 50+ pound baby, while hanging from your feet? Thankfully, most births are single pups, but occasionally multiples are born. Through our local wildlife sanctuary, I once met an exhausted bat mother of triplets. She and her new brood were found together on the ground—mom was unable to carry all three with her as she flew.
Close-up photo of a Seminole bat and her two pups recovering at the Wildlife Sanctuary of Northwest Florida. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Summer is maternity season for female bats, typically giving birth in May or June. Being fellow mammals, bats must stay near their newborns to nurse. It takes about three weeks for juvenile bats to learn to fly. During that time, they either cling to their mother, nursing on the road, or stay behind in a maternity colony as she feeds at night. For that reason, during the period from April 16-August 14, it is illegal to “exclude” or prevent bats from returning to their roost—even if it’s your attic. Blocking a bat’s re-entry during this time frame could result in helpless newborn bats getting trapped in a building.
So, if you have seen evidence of bats flying in and out of your attic—or another building that should not house them—you will need to wait until August 15 or later. Excluding bats from a building entails waiting for the bats to fly out at night and putting up some sort of barrier to prevent their return. This can be done using several different methods explained in this video or by using a reputable wildlife professional. The Florida Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission has regulatory oversight for bat-related issues, and they will work with homeowners to arrange a positive outcome for both the homeowner and the animals involved.
On just about any spring or summer night at dusk, you can look up and see bats darting around, chasing and catching insects. If you are a total bat nerd like me, there are also several places around the southeast with large bat houses for public viewing. In Gainesville, the University of Florida bat houses are home to over 450,000 bats that leave the houses every night. An even larger colony in Austin, Texas (750,000-1.5 million bats) flies out at sunset every night to forage from their dwelling under a downtown bridge. Both are fascinating experiences, and worth a visit!
The University of Florida bat houses on the Gainesville campus are home to hundreds of thousands of bats that emerge every evening. Florida Museum photo by Kristen Grace
If you’re interested in building a bat house for your own backyard, reach out (ctsteven@ufl.edu); I have examples at the office and several sets of plans for building bat houses and installing them correctly. The publication, “Effective Bat Houses for Florida” goes through the best way to figure out where to place a house and includes a set of plans.
This tree was downed during Hurricane Michael, which made a late-season (October) landfall as a Category 5 hurricane. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
There are a lot of jokes out there about the four seasons in Florida—instead of spring, summer, fall, and winter; we have tourist, mosquito, hurricane, and football seasons. The weather and change in seasons are definitely different in a mostly-subtropical state, although we in north Florida do get our share of cold weather (particularly in January!).
All jokes aside, hurricane season is a real issue in our state. With the official season about to begin (June 1) and running through November 30, hurricanes in the Gulf-Atlantic region are a legitimate concern for fully half the calendar year. According to records kept since the 1850’s, our lovely state has been hit with more than 120 hurricanes, double that of the closest high-frequency target, Texas. Hurricanes can affect areas more than 50 miles inland, meaning there is essentially no place to hide in our long, skinny, peninsular state.
A disaster supply kit contains everything your family might need to survive without power and water for several days. Photo credit: Weather Underground
I point all these things out not to cause anxiety, but to remind readers (and especially new Florida residents) that is it imperative to be prepared for hurricane season. Just like picking up pens, notebooks, and new clothes at the start of the school year, it’s important to prepare for hurricane season by firing up (or purchasing) a generator, creating a disaster kit, and making an evacuation plan.
A summary infographic showing hurricane season probability and numbers of named storms predicted from NOAA’s 2024 Atlantic Hurricane Season Outlook. (Spanish version) (Image credit: NOAA)
Peak season for hurricanes is September. Particularly for those in the far western Panhandle, September 16 seems to be our target—Hurricane Ivan hit us on that date in 2004, and Sally made landfall exactly 16 years later, in 2020. But if the season starts in June, why is September so intense? By late August, the Gulf and Atlantic waters have been absorbing summer temperatures for 3 months. The water is as warm as it will be all year, as ambient air temperatures hit their peak. This warm water is hurricane fuel—it is a source of heat energy that generates power for the storm. Tropical storms will form early and late in the season, but the highest frequency (and often the strongest ones) are mid-August through late September. We are potentially in for a doozy of a season this year, too–NOAA forecasters are predicting a very active season, including up to 25 named storms. According to a recent article from Yale Climate Connections, Gulf waters are hotter this May than any year since oceanographers started measuring it in 1981.
The front right quadrant of a hurricane is the strongest portion of a storm. Photo credit: Weather Nation
If you have lived in a hurricane-prone area, you know you don’t want to be on the front right side of the storm. For example, here in Pensacola, if a storm lands in western Mobile or Gulf Shores, Alabama, the impact will nail us. Meteorologists divide hurricanes up into quadrants around the center eye. Because hurricanes spin counterclockwise but move forward, the right front quadrant will take the biggest hit from the storm. A community 20 miles away but on the opposite side of a hurricane may experience little to no damage.
Flooding and storm surge are the most dangerous aspects of a hurricane. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Hurricanes bring with them high winds, heavy rains, and storm surge. Of all those concerns, storm surge is the deadliest, accounting for about half the deaths associated with hurricanes in the past 50 years. Many waterfront residents are taken by surprise at the rapid increase in water level due to surge and wait until too late to evacuate. Storm surge is caused by the pressure of the incoming hurricane building up and pushing the surrounding water inland. Storm surge for Hurricane Katrina was 30 feet above normal sea level, causing devastating floods throughout coastal Louisiana and Mississippi. Due to the dangerous nature of storm surge, NOAA and the National Weather Service have begun announcing storm surge warnings along with hurricane and tornado warnings.
Kayaking over seagrass beds and stingrays, hiking among pitcher plants, boating past diving ospreys, and meeting hundreds of fascinating, like-minded people—these are just some of the great experiences I’ve had while teaching the Florida Master Naturalist Program. More than 20 years since its inception, the Florida Master Naturalist Program (FMNP) has inspired the creation of dozens of similar courses in other states and proven itself to be one of the most popular outreach programs to come out of UF IFAS Extension.
Kayaking Santa Rosa Sound in Navarre is one of the highlights of our Coastal Systems FMNP class. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
The mission of the FMNP is simple—to promote awareness, understanding, and respect of Florida’s natural world among Florida’s citizens and visitors. I have always felt strongly that if you want people to care about something, they need to understand it. And to really understand something, you need to experience it. I know my own passion for science and ecology was ignited early on by teachers who took us outside and helped us encounter the many wondrous surprises in the natural world. With the FMNP, we seek to do just that.
Master Naturalist students conduct field work in small groups. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson, UF IFAS Extension
Over a span of 40 hours in 6-7 weeks, we spend about half our time with classroom presentations and the other half in the field, seeing the plants, animals, and ecosystems we discuss in class. In addition to classes and field trips, students produce a final project and present it to the class. These can range from labeled collections and slide presentations to building bird houses and new trails. The program is composed of three 40-hour core courses; Coastal, Upland, and Freshwater Systems. Seven “short courses” with 24 hours of class/field time include the Land Steward series (Conservation Science, Habitat Evaluation, Wildlife Monitoring, and Environmental Interpretation) and the Restoration courses (Coastal Restoration, Marine Habitat Restoration, and Invasive Plants). Locally, we try to rotate the core modules every couple of years and incorporate the short courses periodically. Registration includes a detailed course manual and, upon completion, FMNP patch, certificate, and pin denoting area of expertise. There are a handful of scholarships available for those interested in applying to offset costs.
Master Naturalist students walk “The Way” boardwalk in Perdido Key. Photo credit: Carrie Stevenson
The classes do not count towards university credit but are an excellent certification and professional development opportunity that many will list on a resume. While we’ve had ecotour operators, park rangers, environmental consultants, teachers, and archaeologists participate, most of our FMNP students are not professionals in the field. They come from every background imaginable but share an interest in the outdoors. Because we meet weekly, class members often form long-lasting friendships during the courses.
Information on upcoming classes in northwest Florida and all around the state is available online. Classes range from fully in-person to hybrid and online options. FMNP classes are restricted to adults 18 and over, but a new “Florida Youth Naturalist” curriculum has been designed through our 4-H program for young people. For more information on that, check out their website.
