Florida – Life In A Word

With the U.S. Memorial Day holiday in the rear view mirror, the 2023 summer season is officially upon us. According to surveys from American Express Travel, sun-and-fun seekers prefer New York City, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles this year. Las Vegas raises an eyebrow (after all, summer in Sin City is broiler-setting hot) but notice something else: Florida didn’t make the top three. Maybe – no, probably – it’s because Seaweed Sarge is already wreaking havoc on the Sunshine State’s beaches.

If you don’t know Seaweed Sarge, it’s because 1) you deliberately avoid the news these days – an increasingly popular trend – or 2) like me, you need a more creative label for sargassum, because it’s a weird name for the seaweed intent on taking over the world. Sarge is a little intimidating, if only for his size. Picture him as a belt of algae 5,000 miles long (I can’t picture anything 5,000 miles long, can you?) Now consider: Sarge will double in size by July, the peak of his “bloom season”.

Sargassum is a particularly annoying form of seaweed. It’s rootless, which means it can reproduce while simply floating around on the ocean’s surface. Its rapid growth is bolstered by nutrients leached into rivers and oceans from land-based agriculture. Once it makes shore sargassum rots immediately, releasing irritating hydrogen sulfide and the stench of rotten eggs. And trying to remove countless tons of seaweed begs the question: where the heck do you put it all?

Florida’s gonna have to figure out the answer to that last question, and fast. Sarge is already littering beaches from Ft. Lauderdale to Key West and we’re just getting started. Come July and August it’ll be virtually impossible to walk along the shoreline.

My own visits to the beach have been blissfully Sarge-free. Most of my sun-and-fun takes place in San Diego, far from Sarge’s primary Atlantic Ocean residence. The only real nuisances on San Diego beaches are the occasional jellyfish or stingray, and a once-in-a-blue-moon shark sighting (which stirs up more anxiety than actual sightings). Admittedly, Sarge washes ashore in San Diego as well, but mostly just here and there as a remnant of off-shore harvesting. Seaweed does have its upsides, in foods, medicines, and fertilizers.

Ironically, I have fond memories of Sarge as a kid. He’s built with giant flappy leaves reminiscent of a mermaid’s fishtail. He’s got countless air sacs to keep him afloat, which make a popping sound as satisfying as squeezing bubble wrap. If I’d thought to take pictures back in the day, I could show you Sarge as an adornment to many a childhood sand castle.

An army of beach tractors could work all summer in South Florida and barely make a dent in Sarge. The seasonal maintenance of the single half-mile beach in Key West alone is in the millions of dollars. But a better solution may be in play. A prototype robot has been designed to do battle at sea. “AlgaRay” cruises slowly through the water, hooking tons of Sarge’s strands in a single pass. Once at capacity, AlgaRay drags Sarge underwater to a depth where all of those air sacs explode. No longer buoyant, Sarge sinks to the ocean floor; a “watery grave” if you will. AlgaRay has been likened to a weed-eating Pac-Man or a vacuuming Roomba. Either image works for me.

Let’s have one more look at those tourist surveys. One in ten say they’d cancel or reschedule a trip to Florida if they knew Sarge was coming ashore. Maybe that explains why landlocked Las Vegas ranked #2 on this summer’s most popular U.S. destinations. Not that Vegas doesn’t have its own threats. Three years ago a swarm of locusts descended on the Strip, blotting out casino windows and streetlights. An annual migration of tarantulas passes by in the surrounding desert. So take your pick: hordes of flying/crawling bugs or a giant mass of inanimate algae. Maybe Sarge isn’t so bad after all.

Some content sourced from the NPR.org article, “Giant blobs of seaweed are hitting Florida…”

As I glance out the windows of my home office I’m struck by the calm of a late fall afternoon; the cloudless blue sky with just a whisper of wind through the trees. I don’t see any aircraft heading to or from the local military bases, nor the white vapor trails they often leave behind. No flocks of birds heading in perfect formation south for the winter. No falling leaves spinning to the ground. Heck, I don’t even see a flying squirrel!

Maybe you caught the story earlier this week. Seven people locked up in a Florida prison are charged with spearheading a “flying squirrel ring”. They trapped thousands of the little guys in the wild, laundered them through a dealer (what sort of person deals in flying squirrels?), who distributed them to several buyers. The buyers then drove to airports around the U.S., where the winged creatures were loaded onto airplanes headed to far eastern countries. Who knew: there’s a market for flying squirrels as exotic pets? Asians pay top dollar for them.

Is it just me or is there something a little redundant about shipping a flying squirrel on an airplane?

Also, what kind of a weirdo goes to the trouble to capture, launder, distribute, sell, drive, and transport thousands of flying squirrels halfway around the world? If you’re going to do something illegal why not deal drugs? Does a flying squirrel sell for that much?

Here’s another thing I can’t figure. What do you call a litter of flying squirrels… a “squadron”?

You must admit, flying squirrels probably make the top-ten list of God’s coolest creatures. The Northern species is small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. They have big doe eyes to help them see in the dark (picture a Disney character). They forage for fruit, seeds, tree sap, and the occasional bird egg. They’ve been buzzing the planet for millions of years now – almost prehistoric.

But let’s talk about those “wings”. Flying squirrels have what’s called a patagium: a furry, parachute-like membrane stretching from tiny wrist to tiny ankle. When the membrane’s stretched taut they can glide from tree to tree, using their tail for stability. They can even steer their body like an airplane, using limbs and tail. How far can a flying squirrel fly, you ask? How about 300 feet? Yep, put one of these babies on top of an American football goalpost and he can soar all the way through the other end zone. “Touchdown”!

Okay BUT… flying squirrels lost some of their coolness when I discovered this picture. OMG, that’s just wicked scary. Can you imagine camping under the stars relaxed in your sleeping bag and you wake up to the rapid descent of that? I’d NEVER be the same. And here’s another Halloween-ish detail: flying squirrels glow. Their underbody fluoresces pink under UV light. Why? No idea, but that just makes them creepier.

Maybe I don’t want a flying furball for a pet after all.

I suppose I’d take flying squirrels over some of the other flying organisms out there. You know about flying fish. You may even know about flying frogs. But did you know about the flying squid in our oceans? Seriously, they can jettison out of the water by expelling water from their “funnel” and travel up to 160 feet. They can even keep that water blast going in the air for extra distance. And there you have it: the world’s only jet-propelled aerial locomotion animal.

Now let’s get to the stuff of real nightmares. How about flying snakes? Five species in Southeast Asia and India can glide like the squirrels. They contort their long bodies to be concave (like an upside-down taco shell), which allows them to buoy on a cushion of air. Not to be outdone by the squirrels, flying snakes can also cover the length of a football field. They even make mid-air 90-degree turns. I didn’t have plans to visit Southeast Asia or India anytime soon but now I’m never going. No way.

Finally, we have the undisputed king of flying nightmares: balloon spiders. These ungodly insects spin a silky globe along with a sturdy dragline and go for a ride wherever the wind may take them. If I was talking about one flying spider I might deal with it but these guys travel in packs. Large packs. Can you imagine? An endless assault of mini paratroopers on a mini Normandy, only you are Normandy. “Incoming!”

You can fill your skies with whatever you want but I’ll pass on flying squids, snakes, and spiders. I’ll even pass on the Northern squirrel (they only live 5-6 years and have no interest in bonding with humans) Oh, and for those of you with flying monkeys on the brain, those would’ve been on the cool list if I hadn’t watched Dorothy and her friends at such a young and impressionable age. Still gets me.

Nope, I choose late fall cloudless blue skies with just a whisper of wind. No squirrels anywhere in sight.

Some content sourced from the 10/20/2020 CNN article, “Florida officials say several people charged in flying squirrel trafficking operation”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Tag: Florida

Seaweed Sarge

Flying Furballs