麻豆约拍

by Sarah Whalley, Director on Seven Worlds, One Planet

When the temperature is cold outside, the last thing you want to do is immerse yourself in water. But thankfully the springs always stay a balmy 22 degrees and that is why the sea cows flock here.

The water is murky, when there are many manatees huddling for warmth; the visibility is reduced as they kick up the bottom. From the boat you can make out lots of dark shapes in the springs like floating sweet potatoes.

As I slipped into the water after our cameraman, Hugh Miller all I see is sand and grit. Following his fins, I make out a snout in the distance. A blink later, I’m face to face with a 500kg manatee looking at me like a curious Labrador puppy. They have whisker like hairs on their faces that help them sense and explore the world around them so it was just checking me out.

As I glanced at Hugh, I chuckled into my snorkel as I saw he was having a similar experience with another manatee that was incredibly interested in his dive equipment.

It was hard to resist not putting my hands out as he nudged me from side to side but touching is one of many prohibited behaviours when swimming with these creatures.

Thankfully the US Fish and Wildlife service do an amazing job at protecting them when they are in their sanctuary. Unfortunately the same could not be said as much for outside with a huge 20% of deaths coming from boat collisions. We were shocked to see so many in the springs bearing the scars of their encounters with humans.

Shrouded in mystery, Caddo Lake feels like you have been transported into another world.

From the instant we got onto the water in our boat we were in a labyrinth of shallow islands dense with cypress trees, their branches covered with ghostly drapes of moss, their wide trunks perfectly mirrored in the still surface of the water. There is definitely something wild and primeval about this place as if a reptile from the Pleistocene could emerge from the murky water at any moment.

The aptly named bald cypress is one of the few conifer species that loses its needles in winter but not before it puts on a show of autumn colours that changes with the light. No two views were ever the same, something to reflect on later with our catfish dinner.