The research team I was part of in the Everglades monitored the buildup of pesticide residues in the environment. I suggested we get samples from Taylor Slough. Everglades National Park surrounded a section of land called The Hole in the Doughnut. This was farmland which, as a compromise when the park was created in 1947, could remain in agricultural use and would revert to the park whenever that use ended. Taylor Slough was the other major water route along with the Shark River Slough draining the Everglades. It ran right alongside the agricultural area. I was sure it was being polluted by it. I proposed we collect specimens of Gambusia, the Mosquitofish, above and below it. Aaron and Murph said, “Go do it!”.
On the two-lane paved road just past the park headquarters at the southern entrance to the park was a bridge over the Taylor Slough. This road ran down to Flamingo at the bottom of the state on Florida Bay. It was from here we would put in to go to the Shark River camp. I am in the stream up to my chest below the bridge trying to catch killifish (think of these as guppies) and other specimens with our economy government gear. A car pulls off the road. An elderly gentleman walks onto the bridge, leans his arms on the railing, and asks what I am doing. I explain. It quickly becomes clear he knows biology. So I ask who he is? Frank Craighead.
At that time he was one of the best known and distinguished wildlife biologists in the country. He saved the Grizzly Bear. He was one of my heroes and idols to boot! Both sons were distinguished biologists. His daughter became famous writing young adult outdoor novels.
Dr. Craighead goes back to his car and comes back with this excellent sampling net. He suggests I would do better with better equipment.
“Just leave it for me at park headquarters. I’ll retrieve it later.”
It was like Eric Clapton letting a groupie borrow his guitar! I am intent on my task when I am jolted out of my waders by the loud horn of a semi-tractor-trailer leaving The Hole in the Doughnut. I am ready to let the driver know what I think with an appropriate hand gesture. I see he is leaning forward into his windshield and pointing up. I look up. Right over my head a tornado is forming and descending on top of me.
Don’t panic. Yeah, sure! As usual, with my luck, I had left my Hitchhiker’s Guide at home. With my towel! What are you supposed to do in the open? Get to low ground as the tornado will skip over holes and ditches. Hell, this is South Florida. We’re talking flat as a pancake. Then I realize the slough is lower than the built-up roadway. I get under the bridge. The water is high enough so there is barely room to keep my mouth and nose above water. Yeah, I’m panicking. I have visions of the funnel sucking up enough water around me to drown me. I leave my shelter.
I run for the car, pull open the back door, and try to put Dr. Craighead’s net in the back seat (the hell with the government’s equipment!). It won’t go in! I’m not putting it in end first. In my panic (I was fucking scared to death!) I am holding it with my right hand above me and my left hand below me with the net at a 45-degree angle ACROSS the damned door opening. Of course it won’t go in! It spans the door opening by feet! So what do I do? I switch hands, still holding it ACROSS the door opening. Brilliant. Of course it still won’t go in. This all happens very quickly. Push, clunk, switch, push, clunk, and then over my shoulder it goes to join the US gear on the ground. The hell with Dr. C’s gear, too!
I get in. Thank G-d the car starts. I head for park headquarters, the only building for many miles. Not such a good idea. The road at that point is a meandering S-shape constantly switching direction back and forth. At the first curve I am heading right back towards the tornado! I step on it, committed to getting to the only shelter I know at this point. Curve, away from the storm; curve, straight back towards it. I eventually get back to headquarters (this all couldn’t have taken very many minutes). I fly into the parking lot, and there is everyone standing outside looking up and pointing at the funnel.
I very nonchalantly walk up to the crowd of park employees and join them as if nothing had happened. By now the funnel is touching down and the clouds in it darken, looking like DNA strands spiraling around each other. Then it weakens, lightens up, becomes transparent, and begins forming again. Eventually it petered out. Everyone went back to work. I went back to the slough to continue murdering fish in the name of science!