Elian Gonzalez, the young Cuban castaway whose international custody battle ended in his dramatic seizure from a Miami home five years ago, addressed a crowd of thousands Friday, thanking Cubans and Americans alike for fighting for his return to the island.
Elian, now 11, read a speech at a televised event in Havana marking the fifth anniversary of the April 22 raid in which armed U.S. federal agents snatched him from his Miami relatives in the first step to getting him back to Cuba.
"Five years ago I returned to my dad," he said. "When I saw him, I became very happy. I could hug him, I could see my little brother. That was the happiest day of my life."
Though the Cuban boy frequently appears in public alongside his father, this is the first time he has given an address at an event open to the international press. President Fidel Castro was among thousands in the audience and many of the boy's remarks were sure to please the communist leader.
Elian was found clinging to an inner tube off the south Florida coast in November 1999. His mother, Elisabeth Brotons, perished with 10 other adults in a failed attempt to reach the United States. Elian, then 5, was one of only three survivors.
If you think the red tide that plagued Boca Grande is worse than in the past, you're right. That's what a scientist told the Lee County Board of County Commissioners Tuesday.
Fifteen times worse.
"Since the 1950s, there has been a fifteen-fold increase in red tide biomass, on average, within five kilometers of shore," said Larry E. Brand, a professor of marine biology with the University of Miami, "and the red tide blooms now extend further off shore."
The blooms also last longer. Whereas red tide used to peak from October through January, blooms now start in August and often don't die out until May, Brand said.
Brand correlated the blooms with discharges from the Peace and Caloosahatchee Rivers and fingered the accumulation of nitrogen from agricultural waste water and phosphorus from phosphate mining as the prime culprits.
"For a fifteen-fold increase in biomass, there has to be a fifteen-fold increase in nutrients," he said.
"I think the science is strong that nutrients don't cause red tide, but they may make it stronger and last longer," Kim Honey, president of the Boca Grande chapter of Solutions To Avoid Red Tide, responded the day after Brand spoke.
"At certain times of year people cannot be on the beach because of red tide," Albion said. "We either solve it or we ignore it."
"It's getting worse," said Commissioner Bob Janes, who represents Boca Grande. "We depend on tourism. No one likes to come to Southwest Florida if the beach is covered with dead fish or red algae."
Commissioner Ray Judah, who asked for the public report, said the county is still studying the idea of suing the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service for allowing the discharge into the Caloosahatchee River that is affecting national estuaries and the endangered Florida manatee.
The county is also asking the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers to redesign the South Florida Water Management District's planned C43 Reservoir near Labelle to control phosphate and nitrate pollution, Judah said.
"If there's just a one-prong attack, we'll all be disappointed," Honey said. "Red tide has been around for centuries. Stopping nutrients won't stop it."
Red tide is caused by Karenia brevis, a microscopic algae that sometimes undergoes explosive growth. It produces a powerful neurotoxin when it is stressed or dies. The poison suffocates fish, kills marine mammals that swallow it and irritates the lungs of humans who breathe it.
The latest outbreak to affect Boca Grande hit Southwest Florida from Tampa to Naples and lasted from mid-January to late March. Scientists with the Florida Fish and Wildlife Research Institute in St. Petersburg say it was a major factor, if not the primary cause, in the deaths of at least 44 manatees.
That's because the recent red tide occurred when the manatees were migrating from their winter territories in sheltered estuaries to coastal waters, Brand said.
Brand based his study on data collected by the state from the 1950s to the 1990s. While sampling in the intervening decades was haphazard, Brand said the data from those two decades withstood comparison.
In the 1950s, 70 percent of water samples taken off Mote Marine Laboratory in Sarasota showed no red tide. When they did, the average concentration was 10,000 cells per liter.
By the 1990s, only 40 percent of the samples showed no red tide, and the average concentration was up to 2 million cells per liter.
"Really large blooms are much more prevalent in the 1990s than they were in the 1950s," Brand said.
Data from satellites, collected by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, proved to be unreliable. The satellites can only detect extremely high concentrations of red tide and in one recent case indicated a "plume" that didn't exist, sending scientists on what Brand called "a wild goose chase."
Even excluding the satellite data, the red tide increase exists, Brand said. It's not a statistical artifact.
He showed documents from 1890 and 1962 describing the correlation between rainfall, river discharges and red tide. Because there is already an excess of phosphorus in the water, nitrogen was the limiting factor in the blooms, he said.
While Brand couldn't point to a "smoking gun," he attributed the rise in nutrients to modern agricultural practices, phosphate mining and population increase. He named organic peat in the Everglades Agricultural Area as a major contributor to nitrogen in the Caloosahatchee River.
"When exposed to air by agriculture, it releases nitrogen," Brand said. Cattle feed lots and human waste also contribute to the river's nitrogen load.
Lapointe, from the Harbor Branch Oceanographic Institute on Big Pine Key, made similar remarks about the red drift algae called Gracelaria, which clogged Lee County beaches last year. "It can double its biomass in two to three days," he said.
"It's Mother Nature dealing with pollution the best way she can. It may tie up nutrients and make them unavailable for red tide."
Iwas heartened to read recently that the National Park Service is training beagles to track down Burmese pythons that are breeding in Everglades National Park.
The park covers 1.5 million acres, but at least they're doing more than many other land managers.
Much of the publicity about exotic species centers on plants because there are so many more of them, and they can alter the landscape unless they're controlled.
We know that because in some parts of Florida the landscape has already been altered when these plants weren't controlled.
Exotic animals can alter ecosystems in other ways.
The brown tree snake, which has single-handedly eliminated most of the native bird species on Guam, is every ecologist's nightmare invader.
An average Burmese python is 16 feet long. It can live 20 years. It eats small mammals, birds and other reptiles.
Like most of the 102 species of exotic animals found to have bred in the wild in Florida, these giant constrictors are the jetsam of the pet trade.
Pet stores market these and other creatures to people who have no idea how large the animals will become or what's involved in caring for them. Many disenchanted pet owners simply release the animals into the wild.
Meanwhile, there's the problem of the Nile monitor lizard.
This is another pet store horror story.
Like the Burmese python, the Nile monitor lizard is carnivorous.
Unlike the Burmese python, so far there is absolutely no eradication effort under way for these African predators.
Nile monitor lizards have not grabbed anyone's dog or cat yet, as far as anyone knows, though a biologist did find a pet goldfish in a dead lizard's stomach.
Some preliminary data from the examination of the stomachs of the lizards that have been caught reveals they have been keeping some of the other exotics under control, notably Cuban tree frogs and brown anoles, but some unidentified bird feathers in those lizards' stomachs are cause for concern.
These 7-foot lizards are, for the moment, found primarily in Cape Coral near Fort Myers. They live near fresh water. There's no evidence they are moving up the Caloosahatchee River to Lake Okeechobee yet, but the possibility makes some people nervous.
These lizards are elusive, with no natural controls and no one's sure how large a range they eventually could occupy.
The problem with Burmese pythons and Nile monitor lizards isn't just that they're large and carnivorous and thus potentially dangerous. Another problem is that they compete with native wildlife for food. If the exotics' numbers and range continue to increase, they could crowd out native species.
The two examples I mentioned above are just the land animals.
As in the plant world, there are exotic aquatic animals as well.
State wildlife officials have collected 86 species of exotic freshwater fish, 34 of which have bred. They range from tilapia, which are caught commercially, to armored catfish.
There are 31 exotic marine species as well.
Many of the exotic fish and shellfish came via aquaculture, releases of ship ballast water and multicultural food markets, according to state wildlife officials.
The cumulative effect is causing what some experts are terming "invasional meltdown."
By the way, it is illegal, though only a misdemeanor, to release any exotic animal into the wild. But as a practical matter, the regulation is difficult to enforce.
In the meantime, if you're traveling into the wilds in South Florida, watch where you step, make sure the vines you grab really are vines and keep your pet on a very short leash.
National Park Service biologist Skip Snow examines a 10-foot, 3-inch (3.1-meter) Burmese python captured on an access road to Florida's Everglades National Park last fall. Experts say the snakes—one of the world's largest and a favorite of the pet trade—are released in the area by disenchanted pet owners. Since the mid-1990s, park rangers have captured or killed 68 Burmese pythons in Everglades National Park.
Photograph by Lori Oberhofer, courtesy National Park Service
If you're headed for the Capital of Conch Republic, you definitely should think about getting into the mood a few hours early. BY MONICA ROOS mroos@herald.com
Whether for its flaming sunsets, Caribbean flair or every-hour-is-happy-hour atmosphere, Key West is an alluring outpost for those in need of some ''R&R'' -- remoteness and relaxation.
The United States' eclectic southernmost city -- where Hemingway set down his pen, President Truman set up his Little White House and snowbirds share the sidewalks with chickens -- has a character all its own.
But getting a taste of the laid-back island life entails what many consider a demanding four-hour drive, much of it along a two-lane highway that parts the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico.
If the passion for this open road eludes you, catching a ride on Ambiance Sun's ''purple bus'' may be appealing.
A fledging company that touts itself as a luxury bus line, Ambiance Sun offers service from Miami and Fort Lauderdale to several Florida cities, including Key West. For $59 each way ($79 in luxury class), the purple bus will get you to Margaritaville in 3 ½ hours, letting you kick back and actually get a glimpse of the mangroves, ibises and -- if you're really lucky -- endangered Key deer that you're likely to miss when behind the wheel.
COMFORT VS. COST
Other alternatives to driving to Key West are a toss-up between comfort and cost. While the Greyhound bus is cheapest ($37.50 each way on the weekend, $35 on weekdays), the no-frills bus makes several stops, lengthening the trip to five hours.
Meanwhile, airfare for the hour-long flights from South Florida can make you cringe: Round trips run $200 to $500 on weekends.
With choices like these, Ambiance Sun's daily service presents a dignified compromise that won't cramp your budget or your legs.
Founded last year by Bill Hennessey, a former American Eagle flight attendant, the bus line emphasizes customer service. While the reservations system could use some fine-tuning, the company's friendly staff on and off the bus is accommodating and attentive.
The ride to Key West has the feel of a flight, complete with occasional turbulence, airplane meal cart and attendants offering assistance and refreshments throughout the trip.
While ''luxury'' may be a bit of an overstatement, the bus trip is cushier than your average economy flight and far exceeds the comforts of a Greyhound. Refreshments and surprisingly decent meals -- served on china with stainless steel flatware -- are included in the fare. So are pillows and blankets, basic comforts some major airlines have eliminated.
The American crocodile, once among the most imperiled animals in the United States, has rebounded so robustly that the federal government announced plans Thursday to cease classifying it as endangered.
The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service proposed upgrading the crocodile's status from endangered to threatened, a change that would recognize the crocodile's improved prospects while leaving its legal protection intact.
Once reduced to a last stronghold in northeastern Florida Bay, the crocodile has reclaimed some of its old territory, extending its range up both coasts of Florida. A crocodile recently showed up in a lake at the University of Miami's campus in Coral Gables. Occasional reports of crocodiles come from Fort Lauderdale and the West Lake section of Hollywood. The number of crocodiles in South Florida rose to as many as 1,000 from a low point in the 1970s of fewer than 300.
Boat residents in the Florida Keys are finding themselves squeezed as boat slips -- prime marine real estate -- attract investors and are increasingly going the way of the condo.
MARATHON - The way Kenneth Cowan sees it, he's become ''dockominized'' -- the latest casualty of a trend that's making it tougher for laid-back, liveaboard boaters up and down the Keys to drop anchor offshore and find basic amenities on land.
Starting April 1, Cowan and other holdouts who've anchored their boats for years in Marathon's Boot Key Harbor, using the nearby Dockside Lounge and Marina as a kind of community center, will have to look elsewhere for services.
A legend in Marathon, the Dockside has served up tacos and cheap beer for decades. But its new owners are transforming the marina's boat slips into the maritime equivalent of condominiums.
''I don't like the idea that they are turning the water into a parking lot to make money,'' says Cowan, a tiler who lives aboard a 36-foot sailboat, the Lismaree, with wife Elizabeth, a local public school teacher's aide.
