Nature and a Musical Interlude

Marlene Walker
Copyright, 2008

Whenever I travel, my plans always include a good dose of nature, not to mention the spontaneous or serendipitous events that just happen. And so while visiting my parents in Florida last month, I made sure to explore the fascinating Anne Kolb Nature Center south of Fort Lauderdale. First introduced to me by my father many years ago, it has become one of my favourite places.

Named for a dedicated environmentalist, this nature preserve features mangrove forests, mudflats and tidal pools accessed by boardwalks and observation stops. About 4:30 in the evening, Joel and I drove there, accompanied by our friends. We were warned about the No-See-Ums, the tiny, almost invisible midges that bite. Despite the incessant biting, the experience was memorable.

Early settlers to South Florida regarded mangrove forests as being useless, mosquito-infested, uninhabitable lands. Today, ecologists realize their important role in coastal ecosystems. Mangrove leaves, trunks and branches fall into the water and are transformed into detritus, which is the basis of an elaborate food chain. Mangroves provide protected habitat, breeding grounds and nursery areas to many terrestrial and marine animals. Mangroves also provide shoreline protection from wind, waves and floods. Taken from http://sofia.usgs.gov/virtual_tour/wlak/index.html


Embraced by mangrove wetlands we walked the boardwalk which terminated at a lovely gazebo perched over West Lake. Being late in the day, we appeared to be the only human visitors.

It was high tide so the mudflats were not exposed which limited shorebird sightings. What we did enjoy however were the multitude of White Ibis with their de-curved bills that flocked to their overnight roost in a mangrove across at the opposite shore. In groups of five or six birds, the Ibis congregated to this one area from all directions. As each group appeared, we pointed in the various directions to alert the others. By sunset, there were hundreds.

While mesmerized by the Ibis, in the distance high in the thermals were dozens of Turkey Vultures. Closer to our observation deck was a Belted Kingfisher that entertained us with diving displays for its evening meal. I attempted to photograph it but the lighting was dimming too quickly.

We watched the western sky perform the beauty of sun-setting and the special after-glow that often escorts its aftermath. While we were enjoying this mangrove diorama, a lone figure wearing a backpack advanced towards us. Sitting down on the bench, he said to all of us, ‘Do you mind if I make some noise?’ A little disarmed that our solitude was about to be broken, I asked him, ‘What kind of noise?’ In response, he opened his backpack and removed an unusually shaped box. Hewn of beautiful Padeuk wood with tongue-like slits, it was magnificent. Brian introduced himself and began drumming the box. This was not ‘noise’; it was music!

What a treat! Surrounded by the beauty of dusk, the air was filled with pentatonic rhythm. The drumming was deep, rich and resonant. Instead of being an intrusion, the delight we felt with Brian’s musical interludes was special. He explained that the instrument was an ancient musical instrument with ‘tongues’ or keys on the playing surface. The Tongue Drum as it is known, is part of the Idiophone family of instruments which when hit vibrates throughout its body. Found in African, Asian and South American cultures, the Tongue Drum has served many functions including story-telling and beating war-cries. (see www.tonguedrum.com).

Brian asked if anyone wanted to try playing. I enthusiastically accepted the offer. With the drum sticks and my fingers I tapped the shiny wood grain, feeling its history throughout the centuries and reveling in the musical notes that floated over the lake and into the mangroves. As darkness settled in, we thanked Brian for adding such pleasure to an already perfect evening.