By Peter R. Gerbert
Introduction by Diane Hines, Vice President of Administration for the Florida Wildlife Federation.
The following is an amazing story that will take you on a journey deep into the heart of wild Florida following the path of a real, modern age explorer. He is a very intense man who has fallen in love with Florida's amazingly diverse natural ecosystems and the state's vast array of unique wildlife. Camp out with him under the stars, far away from the lights of the big cities and developed coastlines, with only the sounds of the creatures of the night surrounding you. Join him on his fishing boat to be escorted down winding rivers, overgrown like prehistoric Florida. Hike down forgotten paths amongst wild animals and beautiful birds and prepare yourself for encounters with the unexpected in this completely untamed environment. For a moment, let yourself go free and become completely in tune with the subtropical world that surrounds you. It is here, that this adventurous man's research begins.
Deciding on a species to become the focus of his newest project, as quietly and inconspicuously as possible; he will closely study the animal or bird and how it has adapted to this wild patch of Earth. With camera, video cameras, sketch pad and imagination, this is where the artist's paintings begin. He is the Florida Wildlife Federation's featured artist, Peter R. Gerbert, and we are sure this column will give an in-depth look as to why the Federation has developed a working relationship with this amazing artist and caring individual. His studies of animal relationships, the time of year, the weather and habitat make up, add sensitivity and a realistic quality to his acrylic paintings. Share in some of his adventures and then be taken to his studio where his meticulous works of art are created.
My
campfire crackled and popped and I was thankful for it's warmth on this chilly
December evening. The half moon was barely visible beyond the thick forest canopy.
Filming the moon zoomed in with my video camera; I was surprised by its very
rapid ascent into the night sky as it raced behind branches and vines. The fast
movement undetectable to the naked eye yet captured with the zoom lens of the
tripod mounted camera.
I
felt the awe of being the only human being in this northern Florida forest,
with a flicker of vulnerability as I heard something quickly approaching through
the dense brush. The sound of leaves crunching became louder and louder. Small
branches snapped loudly, sending off echoes against the old live oak trees.
The Barred Owl I had heard hooting in the night stopped, as if in fear. (A
lot can go through one's imagination in such a situation.) I yanked the
video camera from the tripod and switched it to "Night Shot," a setting
that acts like infrared; letting one see into the pitch black of night without
a source of light. I panned the forest, back and forth. Whatever it was, it
had halted. Was it a rogue Black Bear with a toothache, seeking to take out
its anger on some poor victim like me? I caught a slight movement about five
yards away. It was slowly circling off to the right. Two eyes appeared. Looking
very monster-like in the viewfinder of the camera, the eyes blinked. It was
studying me. The creature's inquisitive eyes flickered with an eerie luminescence,
capturing the light from the campfire. It retreated into the night, I was sure
with the intent of returning after I was asleep, to make a closer investigation
of my campsite looking for goodies. Raccoons will do that.
It
seemed as though I had just closed my eyes, when my trusty, battery-powered
travel alarm started ringing. I sat up abruptly in my sleeping bag and slammed
the off button with my fist. It was pitch black out. Being a wildlife artist,
shooting animals only with my camera, and having the right contacts, I was informed
that these woods are home to some of the largest White-Tail Bucks found in Florida.
I had to get up hours before dawn to head for my borrowed tree-stand. My only
hope of seeing these huge beasts was to be sitting up in the tree-stand waiting
patiently and very quietly, long before they arrived. This morning was my second
attempt. The morning before this I sat for hours in the stand to no avail. I
wasn't particularly enthusiastic about spending another morning sitting in a
somewhat uncomfortable tree-stand watching leaves fall, but I was determined
to get at least a few photographs.
Clambering
out of the tent with a groan, I stretched and yawned and became aware that I
could see my own breath. The temperature had dropped alarmingly towards morning.
Some freshly perked coffee spiked with sugar awakened me, and I was ready to
take on the watch again.
Posed
like a statue up in the stand, I watched the horizon to the east of the field
I was facing slowly take on a deep cyan blue color. Soreness writhed through
my legs and up my back. It was sort of a sitting still for too long /freezing
cold combination.
I
was watching a good size buck moving slowly about in the foggy distance before
I realized what was happening. A buck! Before I knew it, there were two, then
three, and then I counted as many as seven along with several does and two large
fawns. Jackpot!
The
photographer in me pressed down on the shutter release of my camera and it made
me bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. The click of the shutter was so loud
it sounded like a gun going off in the still morning. Two of the bucks looked
up from their chewing and stared right in my direction. After a moment they
returned to their activities. Thankfully, they could not see me well enough
to consider me a threat. The herd moved closer and closer to me across the field,
with their white-bottomed tails twitching as if they were sensing something
slightly out of sorts. They could hear my camera clicking. This was a very new
sound to them, but it did not frighten them away. It was still dark, making
my shutter speed slow, but I could see them quite well with my zoom lens. I
continued to take pictures with slow shutter speeds and I remained quiet until
the last deer had journeyed off into the forest.
A
short time later, I was packing my camera gear when I heard a loud snorting
sound coming from just below me. I thought for an instant the bucks had returned,
having somehow circled the stand. I scanned the forest floor below me and could
not see any… suddenly I saw them. Three huge, black wild hogs. Snorting and
rutting about like army tanks. I know that wild hogs are potentially dangerous
and it's not a good idea to hop out of a tree-stand and startle them, or you
end up back in the tree-stand the hard way, singing like a soprano. I waited.
It seemed like they were making a day of tearing apart this patch of mud and
palmettos below my feet. They eventually meandered off, but I still waited.
It
was edging afternoon when I decided the coast was clear enough to return to
the ground and hike back to my campsite. Quickly, I might add!
"Journey Into Twilight" (Peter R. Gerbert © 2009) is the finished painting based on the artist's material collected in this story and a Limited Edition Print to be endorsed by the Florida Wildlife Federation SOLD OUT. The original, acrylic painting is on permanent display in the Osceola County Courthouse in Kissimmee, Florida.
Back
at camp that afternoon I spent some time jotting notes about my surroundings,
the trees and plant life I found here (at least, whatever I could identify,)
compass headings for my picture taking, dates, temperature, and so forth. I
felt I had enough material to begin my designs for a painting depicting the
healthiest deer that I had ever seen in Florida. I hoped to capture that feeling
that the deer gave me, the feeling of being at home in this ever-changing forest.
Before
deciding to leave this gorgeous part of Florida, I packed some things in my
boat for a leisurely sunset, cocktail cruise on one of the nearby lakes. Embarking
on a spontaneous wilderness jaunt is not only exhilarating; it's the best way
for me to come up with ideas for original painting designs. It opens creative
doors, so to speak.
I
launched my boat and slowly veered out of the cove that I was in, passing by
a floating log acting as a raft for two turtles laying on their red bellies
with their feet sticking out to the sides. As I rounded the edge of the lake
with the sun hanging low on the horizon, a gentle breeze blew around me and
I noticed how the cypress trees lining the edge of the lake were taking on an
orange tinge from the setting sun. A Great Egret was gliding along the other
side of the lake, and I thought to myself: words cannot accurately describe
the beauty of this moment. I can leave the video camera run on the tripod, but
it will not capture the utter tranquility of this place. What I'm experiencing
right now can't really be painted. It's just the miracle of being alive and
being allowed to share in this very remote and wild place.
To
Be Continued …
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Be sure to watch the film "Exploring Wild Florida" now playing on the PeterRGerbert.com movies page (link opens new window.)