From my base of Stetson University Biology Department, I've been studying springs, fish, and invertebrates for over 20 years. I would really like to up the conservation game--got suggestions?
I started my fish-filming journey seven years ago in Rainbow Springs, so it seems appropriate that I end these posts there as well (at least for now!). With its clear, blue water and many, many vents spouting water and sand, it is a spring-enthusiast’s dream.
Rainbow Springs is in an agricultural/residential area southwest of Ocala. The closest town to Rainbow Springs is Dunnellon, which did not feel appear to have grown a great deal since I stayed there seven years ago, although I did not spend a lot of time there on either trip. The neighborhoods just north and west of the spring, on the other hand, seemed to have grown substantially in the intervening years.
Google Earth images of the landscape around Rainbow Springs and of the spring itself. The blue of the run is obvious even from these high elevation images. The darker areas are thick beds of plants.
The headspring of Rainbow is actually a collection of smaller springs that collectively form a large blue pool, scattered with rocks and ringed by submerged and emergent plants.
View of the headspring pool, looking back toward the swimming area. It is a blue to which swimming pool owners aspire.
Underwater views of several vents or sand boils, starting with one of the headspring vents in the upper left-hand corner and ending with cloudy plumes coming from sand boils downstream in the lower left-hand corner.
Filming fish is both easy and hard at Rainbow. The clear water makes the fish easy to see and identify, but its depth makes it hard to set cameras. The vistas are stunning.
A largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides), a redear sunfish (Lepomis microlophus), a redbreast sunfish (Lepomis auritus), and some bluegill sunfish (Lepomis machirochirus) up at the headspring.
The number of predators in this spring was remarkable. I got at least one largemouth bass is virtually every video that I collected. I even managed to get a bass feeding on video. Just downstream from the canoe launch, a downed tree on the edge of a little bay provided structure for a whole host of longnose gar (Lepisosteus osseus). Interestingly, there were gar in that exact same spot seven years ago.
Some impressive predators: a largemouth bass cruising through the site (top) and a video of another feeding (bottom).
A gathering of longnose gar around a downed tree.
The smaller fish, like mosquitofish, shiners, and killifish, were harder to find in attractive poses on video. Given the large number of predators and clear water, they stuck to the areas with more plants, which obstructed my camera view.
Two of the smaller fish species that I recorded: seminole killifish (Fundulus seminolis) and bluefin killifish (Lucania goodei). The red on the tail of the bluefin is just barely visible. They used to be called redfin killifish, but the males often get bright blue dorsal fins when they are breeding. Apparently, the blue is considered more dramatic than the red.
In addition to the number of predatory fish, the number and diversity of turtles was striking. The turtles favored the dense grasses that cover the east side of the run, which is a conservation area off limits to visitors. When I floated past that area, turtles were everywhere, resting on the grasses and swimming between them. However, I got turtles on video all along the run.
Three of the many turtles that I observed in Rainbow Springs, including on the bottom, a Florida softshell (Apalone ferox).
Rainbow Spring is enormous. The first vent alone discharges ~130-320 cfs and all of the subsequent vents add additional flow. When spring #6 adds its flow to the run just upstream of KP Hole, the discharge increases to 297-400 cfs. The 1995 USGS report that ranks the first magnitude springs of Florida puts Rainbow (at 711 cfs with the addition of still more vents downstream) in fourth after Spring Creek Springs, Crystal, and Silver Springs in descending order (https://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/1995/0151/report.pdf). The first two springs are a bit more marine, either on the coast or in the Gulf, so that leaves Rainbow competing with Silver for the biggest and clearest inland spring.
According to the SWFWMD Rainbow Springs dashboard (https://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/projects/springs/rainbow/dashboard), the discharge of Rainbow Spring is a little higher than it has been in the last few years. The overall the trend has been downward for decades, not as steep a decline as some big Florida springs, but still.
Data on water quality for Rainbow Springs are hard to find. There is an Minimum Flow and Level plan, but it is not online. There is a Basin Management Action Plan (BMAP, https://publicfiles.dep.state.fl.us/DEAR/DEARweb/BMAP/Springs/RainbowSprings_Final_11302015.pdf), but it only gives the target concentration for nitrate. As a result, my conclusions are based on the SWFWMD Rainbow Springs dashboard and the little bit of data that I collected in 2017 and in 2024.
Rainbow Springs is on the warm side (23-24oC) and the dissolved oxygen is very high for a spring (5.85-7.94 mg/L). It was this spring that made me rethink what is “typical” for Florida springs as these values are more than an order of magnitude higher than the dissolved oxygen measurements that I typically take at the headspring of Volusia Blue. It would seem that the water is barely underground at Rainbow. The conductivity is predictably low (~180-380 microS/cm) for a spring a) far from the Gulf and b) without the underlying aquifer salt lens of some of the St. Johns River springs.
Nitrate concentrations, on the other hand, are quite high (more than 2.5 mg/L as compared to the BMAP target of 0.35 mg/L). Like many other Florida springs, the nitrate concentration has risen linearly in Rainbow Spring since the early 1990s at least (for many springs, the increase started in the 1970s). The BMAP attributed the high nitrate loading primarily to cattle and horse pasturelands. However, the rapid increase appears to have slowed and this trend seems to have occurred in other springs as well. Hopefully, we’re turning a corner there.
Apparently, Floridians like their Gum trees. Gum trees include sweetgum (Liquidambar styraciflua) and the tupelos (Nyssa spp.), which we have in Florida naturally, and eucalyptus, which we do not. There are actually some super fun gum trees that I just discovered five minutes ago, such as a lemon-scented gum (Corymbia citriodora), a rainbow gum (Eucalyptus deglupta), a scribbly gum (Eucalyptus haemastoma), and a salmon gum (Eucalyptus salmonophloia–there’s the fish in this digression! https://www.thespruce.com/twelve-species-of-gum-trees-3269664). [Hopefully, we’re keeping those fun gum trees in their homes.]
Floridians also like to name things Gum swamp. I titled this post as I did because “Gum” and some version of “slough” or “swamp” show up all over the state (a slough is essentially a flowing swamp). There’s the Gum Slough near Lake City that is a described by Apple Maps as a lake, but looks more like a wetland. There’s a Gum Swamp at the northern end of the Okeefenokee Swamp. There are Big Gum Swamp, Little Gum Swamp and Gum Swamp Creek at the southern end of the Okeefenokee. There’s a Gum Swamp southeast of Jacksonville. There’s Gum Root Swamp northeast of Gainesville. There’s a Gum Swamp that appears, on Google Earth, to connect the Manatee River and Myakka River watersheds. And there’s a Gum Swamp Branch just north of the Hardee Correctional Institution that, if I squint sideways, might connect with the Gum Slough on the Manatee River. And finally, there’s the Gum Swamp surrounding the headwaters of the topic of this post: Gum Slough spring that flows into the southern Withlacoochee River (and yes, we have two Withlacoochee Rivers as well).
Google Earth image of some of the “Gum” slough/swamps in Florida. The yellow star indicates the location of the Gum Slough that is the topic of this post.
The development pressure in the area is intense, with Ocala to the north and The Villages to the east. However, the land around the spring itself is still swamp, forest, and pasture. All of the land that abuts the spring is either wildlife management area or nonprofit. Visiting the headspring, which is owned by a nonprofit, feels very remote, a bit like you’re going back in time.
At least seven vents provide the majority of the flow for the spring, three at the start of the spring, three about a mile downstream, one more that I did not find, and perhaps even a few others that have only been seen on a SWFWMD lidar map (kind of like radar). I was told by one of the owners of the nonprofit that the flow from first three springs is equivalent to a second magnitude spring, but the addition of the other four springs downstream elevates the flow to a first magnitude spring.
Google Earth (top) and Google Map (bottom) images of the Gum Slough run. The locations of the two clusters of seven springs are represented by the stars in the top map. The bottom map shows the braided morphology of both the Withlacoochee River and Gum Slough.
Screenshot of a lidar image of Gum Slough from a SWFWMD video (https://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/media/video/6042) about exploring the springs of Gum Slough. According to the video, the bright spots are springs. A couple of the lighter, unlabeled springs had runs that were too shallow and narrow to paddle.
Even with the substantial flow inputs, the spring is narrow and intimate in the upper mile or so. In fact, at low water, the spring can be so shallow in the upper reaches that kayaks need to be portaged in spots. I have not yet paddled lower Gum Slough, but given how braided it is and photos that I have seen, I think that it would feel intimate downstream as well.
Gum Slough just downstream of the first three springs in March.
Gum Main Spring
The Gum Slough main vent is represented by perforations in a large limestone pool. When I visited in January and March, algae blanketed both the floor of the main spring run and a lot of the eelgrass (Valisneria americana) just downstream, but the snails did not seem to mind. There were thousands upon thousands of snails, both on the eelgrass and on the exposed sand.
Gum Slough main vent (top) and the run downstream (bottom). The entry of Gum Slough Spring #2 is visible in the top right corner and dozens of snails can be seen in the lower left corner.
I recorded an impressive number of sizeable largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides)–also, loads of sunfish, particularly spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus)–among the ten sites that I collected video. The clear water gave some good views of bowfin (Amia calva) as well. The rippling motion of their dorsal fins is a cool way to move.
A skinny largemouth bass at the headspring in March and a bowfin with a spotted sunfish just downstream in January. I mention the difference in sample time here because the algae is green the top photo and brown in the bottom photo.
From further downstream, a large and golden largemouth bass, a very large seminole killifish (Fundulus seminolis) with a spotted sunfish, and a pretty redbreast sunfish (Lepomis auritus, bottom).
Downstream where there was some structure, I found shoals of shiners, both adult (photo) and larval (video). Note the larval shiners streaming from one mass of plants to another. They slightly rerouted when the bass approached.
Gum Spring #1
The Gum Slough #1 vent was just meters away, but it looked completely different than the main spring, much more blue. The pool was much narrower, so the banks were steeper and the vent itself was obscured by plants.
Gum Slough Spring #1 vent (top) and its short and shallow run (bottom)
Like the main spring, Gum Slough #1 supported shiners, killifish, sunfish, bass, and turtles.
A largemouth bass near the edge of the Gum Slough #1 vent.
Spotted sunfish attacking a) food that is impossible to see (top) and b) my float (bottom).
Alligator Spring
Of the springs that I visited on Gum Slough, Alligator Spring was my favorite to paddle. The run was windy and tree canopy-covered with dappled sunlight falling on the water. Below water, the vent dropped off quickly, producing a limestone wall, although it was covered in algae.
Looking up Alligator Spring run toward the headspring.
Alligator Spring vent above water (top) and the limestone wall of the vent below water (bottom).
Alligator run was a bit more tannic than the other spring runs, but I observed the same suite of fish along its length as I did in the other two runs upstream.
Some impressive largemouth bass and colorful redbreast sunfish (Lepomis auritus) in Alligator Spring run.
Gum Slough springs #2-3.
The downstream spring vents seemed much bigger than the upstream vents. And unlike the springs upstream, the downstream vents were right in the middle of the channel, rather than at the start of a run. An impressive number of large predators (largemouth bass, Florida gar, and bowfin), roamed these vents. While the largemouth bass cruised through singly or in pairs and the bowfin always were alone, at least 19 Florida gar hung over the vent of Gum Slough #4. I usually see Florida gar on their own, not in groups.
Gum Spring # 2 with a sunfish and a largemouth bass.
Gum Spring # 3 with several largemouth bass and a couple of sunfish.
Gum Spring # 4 with a boatload of Florida gar (Lepisosteus platyrhincus) near the surface. That group was the largest number of Florida gar that I have ever seen together.
Two impressive largemouth bass, one showing off its large mouth.
The Florida gar following each other around–mating?
Despite the large number of predators, I also observed a fair number of small fish like shiners and killifish, probably because I set my cameras back in the plants. Plants can provide cover from that large mouth on the largemouth.
A metallic shiner (Pteronotropis metallicus, top) and three bluefin killfish (Lucania goodei, bottom).
In addition to the loads of snails on the run, when I visited in March, there were impressive numbers of mayflies and blue damselflies taking advantage of the warmer weather.
A mayfly on my data book (top) and loads of blue damselflies on an exposed log (bottom).
USGS had no water quality data for Gum Slough, but there were some in the SWFWMD MFL plan (again, a short time series). The temperature of Gum Slough headspring was on the warm side (~23-24oC according to both SWFWMD and my data), but it was a little cooler below the second set of vents when I measured it (21.5-22.9oC). The dissolved oxygen was moderate at the headspring (3.11 mg/L for SWFWMD and 2.5-4 mg/L for me), but it was higher when I measured it downstream (~5-7 mg/L). This increase is not surprising, given all the submerged plants and algae. The conductivity was predictably low (324 microS/cm for SWFWMD and ~370 microS/cm for me), given the distance from a source of saltwater.
The SWFWMD MFL plan reported an average nitrate concentration of 1.02 mg/L, ranging up to 2.28 mg/L. These values are quite high, much higher than the often-cited 0.35 mg/L background concentration (the MFL report actually used a much lower number for the background: 0.05 mg/L). The report says that: “this [nitrogen concentration] is slightly higher than the mean of 1.17 mg/L for the Rainbow Springs for the same period”. This comparison is interesting, given the much more obvious overlap between human development and Rainbow Spring (there are neighborhoods just north of the headspring and houses down one bank of its run). The MFL plan reported a phosphate concentration of 0.04 mg/L, which is within a stone’s throw of the likely background concentration. So… while Gum Slough feels untouched as you float down it, it has been touched underground by human activity.
Jackson Blue was my last stop in the panhandle and my last big “Blue” to visit. Back in the day, a lot of springs must have been really blue because “Blue” appears to be the most common name for springs in Florida: Gilchrist Blue, Jackson Blue, Levy Blue, Madison Blue, Volusia Blue, etc. Now each “Blue” is distinguished from the others using the name of the county in which it occurs. Jackson and Volusia Blue are two of the 33 first magnitude springs in Florida.
Jackson Blue Spring is in a heavily agricultural area, just to the east of the town of Marianna, Florida Caverns State Park, and the Chipola River into which it flows. It is dammed downstream where it passes just south of Marianna. According to Jackson County, this dam produced a reservoir that is now a “nationally known fishing site” (https://jacksoncountyfl.gov/services/parks-recreation/blue-springs-recreation-area/). The run would be big without the dam, but it is especially wide along its length because of the dam. As an interesting aside, the park originally hosted a club for Graham Air Force Base officers.
Google Earth images of the landscape around Jackson Blue Recreation Area (top) and of the dammed run (Merritts Mill Pond, bottom).
Jackson Blue Recreation Area (home to the headspring) is a medium-old Florida sort of place, with a dirt parking lot and a small ticket booth attended by a woman who was, perhaps, a high school student. The park is open only during the warm season and the swimming area is surrounded by a cement wall on the upstream end and a moveable wall on the downstream end.
The Jackson Blue swimming area.
On my visit, I put in below the swimming area, which already was starting to fill up with swimmers and divers when I arrived. As soon as I pushed off, I was in an eelgrass (Valisneria americana) wonderland all across the wide run.
Thick beds of eelgrass blanket most of the bottom of the Jackson Blue run.
Much of the eelgrass and other plants were somewhat coated with algae, all of which was photosynthesizing rapidly in the clear water. The evidence for this process was the production of copious bubbles. When plants or algae photosynthesize faster than the water can absorb the oxygen, oxygen bubbles form, covering the producers or rising to the surface if they get too big or disturbed.
Bubbles of oxygen streaming off the eelgrass leaves (and algae).
Beyond the swimming area, lovely old cypress trees (Taxodium distichum) produced shade close to the banks.
Cypress trees in the shallows of Jackson Blue Spring. Duckweed (Lemna sp.) covered the surface of the water in many areas.
Downstream of the headspring, several other springs dot the run. The most famous of these is Shangra-La Spring on northern bank of the run.
Shangri-La main spring above water (top) and underwater (bottom).
The Shangri-La second vent just off shore, photographed above the water (top) and underwater (bottom).
Twin Caves Spring is a little further downstream next to a swimming platform near the southern bank of the run.
Two views of Twin Caves Spring.
Just below the swimming area, the algae was pretty thick, but back under the trees along the banks, the sandy substrate was more visible. In the shallows under the cypress trees, there were more juvenile largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides) than I have ever seen in one place. And, of course, there were lots of sunfish, especially spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus), all over the run.
Thick algae with spotted sunfish just downstream from the canoe launch.
Several juvenile largemouth bass passing through as two bluefin killifish (Lucania goodei) flared bright blue dorsal fins in a territorial display.
Still more juvenile largemouth bass downstream.
In addition to the large sunfish and largemouth bass populations, the turtle populations also seemed to be healthy.
A turtle passing by two spotted sunfish.
A tiny loggerhead musk turtle (Sternotherus minor) climbing over the rocks in this view from Shangri-La Spring out toward the center of the run (below).
Like most other springs in Florida, the available data for Jackson Blue Spring is a bit spotty. The discharge time series reported by USGS (https://waterdata.usgs.gov/nwis) and DEP (https://floridadep.gov/sites/default/files/JacksonBlue-MerritsMill-nutr-tmdl.pdf) only ranged from 2005 to 2010. Over that period of time, Jackson Blue discharge ranged from 38 to 219 cfs, a massive 576% difference in magnitude from the lowest to highest discharge. The temperatures at the headspring were comparatively cool (USGS data from 1972-2023: 20.5-21oC; 21.1-22.3oC for me). The dissolved oxygen concentrations were high for a spring (USGS: 7-10.3 mg/L at the headspring; 7.05-9.17 mg/L for me). The high values for the headspring suggest that the water issuing from the spring is not underground long. High dissolved oxygen downstream also would have been related to the large producer (plants and algae) populations. The conductivity was low, as expected given the spring’s distance from the Gulf: 197-287 microS/cm for USGS and 280-310 microS/cm for me.
For many of the biggest springs in Florida, the state developed MFL (Minimum flow and level) plans to maintain spring discharges and TMDL (Total Maximum Daily Load) plans to restore nutrient concentrations. I could not find an MFL plan for Jackson Blue, but the TMDL plan reported nitrate concentrations that ranged from 3.1-3.4 mg/L in recent years, an order of magnitude higher than the concentration in 1960 and than the background concentration of 0.35 mg/L used for many springs across the state. DEP examined the isotopic ratios of the nitrogen (14N vs 15N) in Jackson Blue and came to the conclusion that most of the nitrate emerging from the springs was from fertilizers. As organisms process nitrate, they use the lighter 14N before the heavier 15N, so their waste tends to have a low ratio of 14N:15N. The reported phosphorus concentrations, happily, all were low, about 0.02 mg/L.
The Holmes Creek springs were small but lovely, with startling shades of bright blue at each of their headsprings. The three springs that I visited on Holmes Creek were smaller than some of the other springs that I visited in other areas. Cypress and Beckton are second magnitude (2nd magnitude = discharge less than 65 million gallons/day) and Brunson Landing is third magnitude (3rd magnitude = discharge less than 6.5 million gallons/day). I also visited the third magnitude Hightower Spring just before dusk on my first day in the panhandle, but the water clarity was super low and my cameras were dying. Perhaps I will visit again someday. There are no first magnitude springs that I know of on Holmes Creek.
Holmes Creek is a tributary of the Choctawatchee River and flows into it from the east. Originating far to the north in Alabama, it meanders through agricultural land until it reaches the Choctawatchee. Springs dot the reach on either side of Vernon.
Google Earth images showing the landscape around Holmes Creek (top) and the locations of the springs that I visited (bottom). In north to south order, these springs were Cypress, Beckton, Brunson Landing, and Hightower.
When I tried to visit the springs in February, all of the springs were the same shade of muddy brown. I think that I could have paddled through the forest to reach them. The water was so high that I think that Holmes Creek was continuous with the parallel-running Cypress Spring. I found the spring only by using the satellite feature on my phone and then finding the disturbance of the boil.
Cypress Spring in February with no shoreline due to flooding. The darker areas represent shadows from the trees as the water was all brown. The water appeared to be continuous with Holmes Creek.
Cypress Spring
When I returned in May, I tried to visit Cypress Spring on a nice sunny afternoon. I was excited to see it as I had heard that the DEP uses it as their “low algae” site, so I was anticipating a lovely run. I floated down Holmes Creek from the Cotton Landing Recreation Area boat ramp and as I turned the corner to go up the run, I realized that I was headed straight for a powerboat parked in the run with people standing around it. A powerboat (and a party) might scare off the fish, so I decided to come back early the next morning. I returned after a storm passed through the area in mid-morning and I was happy to see that there were only four young adults swimming and enjoying the beauty of the headspring. The large, cobalt blue vent was glorious.
The Cypress Spring headspring.
Underwater views of the main vent.
However, there were virtually no fish. The evidence of the heavy use of the spring was visible by the degraded bank and the wide expanses of sand on the bottom of the run. At the headspring, I only managed to film many fish (mostly shiners) in a spot tucked behind a tree. Some sunfish also milled around the underwater logs.
An ecotour outfit was setting up a tent and chairs for their clients who were paddling up later.
Wide expanses of sand on the bottom of Cypress Spring run (top), interspersed downstream with patches of plants littered with snails (bottom).
Downstream the water clarity declined, with stripes of murky brown parallel to the banks, perhaps due to the large storm the day before. However, I was still able to see some sunfish, a couple of largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides), two species of shiners (likely redeye chub, Pteronotropis harperi, and weed shiners, Notropis texanus), a golden silverside (Labidesthes vanhyningi), and a blackspotted topminnow (Fundulus olivaceus).
Shiners (top), a golden silverside (middle), and a blackspotted topminnow (bottom).
I also found a very cute turtle and a very healthy snail population.
Juvenile yellow belly slider (Trachemys scripta scripta).
A snail (Elimia sp.) feeding on algae and invertebrates growing on a leaf (at 2000x speed).
Becton/Beckton Spring
*I am not actually sure how this spring’s name is spelled as I have seen it both ways.*
When I got skunked by the large number of visitors at Cypress Spring, I decided to float down to Beckton Spring instead. Although I have read that this spring also can be popular, happily I was the only visitor that afternoon. Beckton sported a slightly more turquoise blue than Cypress Spring, but the water clarity at the headspring was much lower and sadly I was unable to see its vent in person or on video. However, Beckton Spring had nice beds of submerged plants and loads of snails.
Beckton headspring.
Healthy submerged plant populations in Beckton Spring.
Snails (Elimia sp.) and snail trails in the sand at Beckton Spring.
Along with a lot more submerged plants in the run, there appeared to be more fish at Beckton Spring than at Cypress Spring. Not surprisingly, there was some overlap between the species that I observed, given the close proximity of the two springs. I recorded a variety of sunfish, including some pretty dollar sunfish (Lepomis marginatus). In addition to the two shiner species that I saw at Cypress Spring (likely redeye chub and weed shiners), I observed some sailfin shiners (Pteronotropis hypselopterus) and another blackspotted topminnow at Beckton. And, of course, mosquitofish (Gambusia holbrooki) are everywhere.
A dollar sunfish with spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus, top), a (likely) weed shiner with two sailfin shiners (middle), and a blackspotted topminnow (bottom). It is funny that this screenshot is very similar to the one that I took of a topminnow at Cypress Spring, but then topminnows typically cruise just under the surface of the water–hence the name.
Beckton also had a narrow, shallow, sandy side channel that provided me with an individual from one of my favorite groups of fish: darters. I really want to label this one as a brown darter (Etheostoma edwini), but it is hard to see, so we will just call it Etheostoma.
The shallow side channel of Beckton Spring. The large headspring is upstream and off to the left.
A darter in the shallow, sandy, fast-flowing side channel of Beckton Spring.
I also met this nice juvenile southern water snake (Nerodia fasciata). It gave me a lot of time to get a camera in the water, watching me closely the entire time, but I flailed around too long trying to get close enough in the flow without scaring it with the paddle and it swam away–alas.
A southern water snake that gave up waiting for me.
Brunson Landing Spring
Brunson Landing was actually the first spring that I visited on both trips to the panhandle. On my first trip, in February, I pulled up late in the afternoon to a brown, fast-flowing Holmes Creek at the Brunson Landing boat ramp. I popped my boat in the water and promptly floated right past the entrance to the spring. It was so flooded back into the trees that it was impossible to see where the spring joined the creek. A couple of people in the parking lot clued me onto the existence of a trail to the spring, but even when I followed the obvious trail, I was unable to find the spring under the brown water.
Flooded forest in the vicinity of Brunson Landing Spring. The water was so high that I could not find the spring.
Upon my return in May, my short hike through the forest rewarded me with a gorgeous little gem in the forest. It seemed like the land just dropped away to produce this deep blue hole.
Brunson Landing headspring, both above (top) and below (bottom) the surface of the water.
The relatively deep headspring (~15 ft) led to a shallow little run that flowed into Holmes Creek. Perhaps because the run was so shallow just downstream of the headspring, there were few fish in my first couple of attempts at filming.
Brunson Landing run just downstream of the headspring above water (top) and below water (bottom).
A second small vent had more fish, but the diversity still was low and the view was a bit murky.
Brunson Landing second vent downstream of the main vent.
Close to the confluence of the spring with the river, however, I found a fair number of fish, even with the low water clarity. Several of these fish near the creek were piscivorous (fish eating): chain pickerel (Esox niger), bowfin (Amia calva), and largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides).
Several predatory fish near the confluence of Brunson Landing Spring with Holmes Creek: chain pickerel (top), bowfin (middle), and largemouth bass (bottom) with a spotted sunfish behind it.
Video of the cool undulating motion of a bowfin’s dorsal fin as it cruises down the Brunson Landing run toward Holmes Creek.
A tiny loggerhead musk turtle (Sternotherus minor) also passed in front of one of my cameras down near the confluence of the spring and the creek.
Loggerhead musk turtle living its life: swimming and crawling near the confluence of Brunson Landing Spring and Holmes Creek.
Like the other panhandle springs, I had trouble finding much water quality data for the Holmes Creek springs, even though I had heard that DEP has sampled at Cypress Spring. As expected, I saw little algae in the spring, but I also saw power boats zooming up and people standing in the run, all of which can dislodge algae and plants. I found some USGS data from the mid 2000s (https://waterdata.usgs.gov/nwis) that indicated that the Cypress spring discharge ranged from 75 to 95 cfs (making it just shy of a first magnitude spring). I also found some water quality data on the same site from 1972 and 1985 that suggested that the spring was on the cold side (20.5-21oC), with moderate dissolved oxygen (4.1-4.8 mg/L) and low conductivity (195-210 microS/cm) and nitrate concentrations (0.22 mg/L). A NWFWMD report that I found from 2006 (https://www.nwfwater.com/content/download/1340/11594/WRSR-2008-01.pdf) gave similar results: temperature = 20.4oC, dissolved oxygen = 4.72 mg/L, and conductivity = 220 microS/cm. These data are comparable to the data that I collected at the headspring: temperature = 20.6oC, DO = 4.98-5.31 mg/L, and conductivity = 226 microS/cm.
A water quality report from the Cypress Springs Utility District for 2023 (https://cssudpay.com/water-quality-report) suggested that the nitrate concentration has come up since 1985 (0.387-0.479 mg/L). This report attributed the nitrate contamination to fertilizer runoff, leaking septic, sewage, and erosion from natural deposits. Sounds about right.
The discharge and water quality data for Becton/Beckton Spring were even more scarce. I found data from one year (1972) on the USGS site for Becton/Beckton Spring. Those data suggested that Beckton had 1/3-1/2 the discharge of Cypress (33.2 cfs) and that it also was on the cold side (21.5oC), with low dissolved oxygen (2.5 mg/L), conductivity (275 microS/cm) and nitrate concentrations (0.2 mg/L). The NWFWMD document reported similar results: temperature = 20.8oC, dissolved oxygen = 4.01 mg/L, and conductivity = 271 microS/cm. My data suggested that the spring may have been a tad warmer and more oxygen-rich on my visit than in 1972: temperature = 22.8oC, DO = ~6 mg/L, and conductivity = ~240 microS/cm, all at the headspring. I suspect that the nitrate concentrations might be a little higher now, as appears to be the case in Cypress Spring.
Finally, there were no USGS data for Brunson Landing Spring. The NWFWMD document reported that the discharge = 5.86 cfs, temperature = 20.8oC, dissolved oxygen = 2.36 mg/L, and conductivity = 219 microS/cm. My data collection produced a similar temperature (20.9oC) and conductivity (~ 220 microS/cm), but lower dissolved oxygen (1.04-1.54 mg/L) at the headspring than the NWFWMD report.
View of the Morrison Springs main pool, looking upstream from the vent.
I first tried to visit Morrison Springs in February, but the spring, like so many others in the panhandle, was still flooded from Hurricane Idalia that hit back in August 2023 and subsequent storms. Its large main pool was impossible to see as it was completely covered in brown water. Video is a lot more effective when you can see.
Morrison Springs in February (top) and May (bottom) 2024.
Morrison Springs is a large spring, with a 250-ft diameter main pool. This pool contains three cavities, one of which descends to 300 feet, that produce something on the order of 50 million gallons of water per day, so the spring is categorized as 2nd magnitude, despite its size. Located just south of the town of Ponce de Leon and downstream of Ponce de Leon Spring, Morrison flows down a broad and somewhat shallow run into the Choctawatchee River. The Choctawatchee River meanders down to the Choctawatchee Bay, which opens to the Gulf of Mexico at Destin.
Google Earth images of the location of Morrison Springs on the Choctawatchee River (yellow arrow, top) and of the spring itself (bottom). The headspring appears almost as wide as the Choctawatchee River into which it flows.
Upon my return to the spring months later, two characteristics struck me: 1) the thick and lovely cypress forest all along the banks and 2) the high water lines on the trees. There were two obvious lines, one about 1/2 meter and one about a meter above the surface of the water on the day that I visited. The prominence of these lines suggest that the spring run attains this stage (water height) often.
Closer view of some of the cypress trees with dotted lines representing their high water lines.
Up near these cypress trees, the water somewhat clear with a layer of suspended sediment near the surface. Happily, I could see both lots of fish and loads of snails. A shoal of shiners made way for largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides) and spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus), which made way for an adult chain pickerel (Esox niger) on the right side of the main pool.
Shiners (top), largemouth bass and spotted sunfish (middle), and a chain pickerel (bottom).
The spring had flooded back into the trees, so I also filmed further back among the cypress trees and was rewarded with two juvenile chain pickerel.
Two juvenile chain pickerel.
On the left side of the main pool, I discovered bizarre-o bluegill sunfish (Lepomis macrochirus) that had virtually no markings. I only recognized them by their diagnostic black dot on the dorsal fin. Typically, fish this large would have prominent dark bars running from top to bottom.
Bluegill sunfish (and one spotted) missing their typical bar patterns.
Alas, the water clarity declined once I left the headspring area. Despite the murkiness, I was able to film several different species of fish, including a bowfin (Amia calva), golden silversides fighting (Labidesthys vanhyningi), and the crown jewel: bluenose shiners (Pteronotropis welaka). I have been asked many times if I have seen them in my visits to springs and finally I can say yes. This species is categorized as a state-designated threatened species due to its isolated populations that are vulnerable to extirpation (local eradication).
A bowfin looming over a juvenile largemouth bass (top), a golden silverside (middle), and bluenose shiners (bottom). Note the shiners’ bright blue snout and sparkles, which no other Florida shiner possesses. When breeding, the males get much darker and more blue and the dorsal and anal fins get very large and round.
Golden silversides fighting.
I wish that I had better video that could show off the vents of Morrison Spring (I have read that there are three), but the water clarity was too low to see much of anything from the GoPro on my kayak. However, the recording of bluenose shiners made the trip more than worth it. I will have to try again on some day like today (6/12/24) when the Walton County website (https://www.co.walton.fl.us/523/Morrison-Springs) lists water clarity as 1 (the clearest).
My best view of the vent area on the day of my visit in early May 2024. The view, although terrible, was still much better than in February.
I was unable to find much water quality data on Morrison Spring. About the best that I was able to find was four sets of USGS samples collected from 1969 to 1985 and a 2006 NWFWMD report entitled: Ground water chemical characterization of Morrison Spring, Florida (https://www.nwfwater.com/content/download/6674/48451/WRSR0602.pdf). This report seemed to describe data from wells near Morrison all the way up to the Alabama border. However, their data matched mine (what I collected) quite well, with relatively cold temperatures (NWFWMD = 20.7oC, my data = 20.8-21.5oC at the headspring, 22.7oC downstream), moderate dissolved oxygen (NWFWMD = 3.17 mg/L, my data = 3.02-3.74 mg/L at the headspring, 2.99-4.16 mg/L downstream), and low conductivity (NWFWMD = 226 microS/cm, my data ~230 microS/cm at the headspring, 220-230 microS/cm downstream). The nitrate data that they reported also were quite low (0.180 mg/L). Happily, these data were comparable to the data collected by USGS decades ago, suggesting that Morrison Springs may have been less impacted by human activity than many other springs. However, I did see reports that it was closed due to high bacterial counts in 2014 and I saw recent warnings about the large number of visitors in the warm seasons.
A few of the visitors at the Morrison Springs main pool in May 2024.
The Alafia River upstream of Lithia Springs. I have many photos of the river that look like paintings.
The Alafia River in this reach felt like old natural Florida.
This project was a lesson in expectations. I did not expect the Weeki Wachee run to be as pretty as it was and I did not expect the Alafia River to be sublimely lovely either.
My only experience with Tampa area springs was from the heavily modified springs of the Hillsborough River and my only knowledge about the Alafia came from a paper on the effect of mine drainage and agriculture on invertebrate assemblages. Google Earth images of the landscape around the Alafia River, highly modified with residential development to the west and agriculture to the east, also helped to set my expectations. However, happily, the riparian forest has been preserved in the upper reaches. As a result, the experience of paddling near Lithia and Buckhorn springs feels very natural (as can be seen in the photo above). It just goes to show that you should not listen to your expectations (even those you do not realize that you have).
Google Earth image of the Alafia River, which flows into HIllsborough Bay. Note the green riparian (river) forest along the banks in the upper reaches on the right side of the image.
A lower elevation view of Lithia Major (the big blue pool) and Lithia Minor (the camera icon) as well as the Alafia River.
Lithia Major
Contrary to the natural state of the Alafia in this area, the headspring of Lithia Major was converted into a large swimming pool. However, the park was nice and I appreciated the people spending the day outdoors. Once the spring water leaves the pool, it flows down a short, shallow run into the Alafia River. Lithia Minor is just upstream of Lithia Major.
The Lithia Major headspring was fenced in and closed until the afternoon when the visitors descended upon the pool. Many families were making an afternoon of it.
The canoe launch at Lithia Springs park is a little downstream of the springs, so the short paddle on the river provided a nice alternative to the pool. It was very easy to spot the Lithia Major run, which I came upon first, by the clear plume of spring water flowing into the brown water of the river.
The water of the spring was clear as a bell as it flowed into the tannic, tea-colored river. An exotic armored catfish (Pterygoplicthys sp.) set the stage for what I would see as I paddled up the run.
The rope designated that the run was off-limits to the public and someone from the park raced down to ask me what I was doing when they spied me in my boat. Clearly, they have a lot of pressure from the public, but they were very gracious when I told them what I was doing.
The run was very shallow, sandy, and chock full of exotic fish. After the armored catfish, I next noticed the abundant blue tilapia (Oreochromis aureus) nests.
A very obvious blue tilapia nest.
Three tilapia nests, one with the male guarding it (top), and a closeup of the fish on the nest (bottom).
It was an interesting visit, if slightly shocking, because I have never seen abundances of exotic fish like I saw in the Tampa area springs. Had I spent time observing fish around the canals of south Florida, perhaps I would have been more prepared for the overwhelming biomass of exotic fish in both the Hillsborough and Alafia springs.
Every fish in these two images from Lithia Major, one from either side of the run, was either a juvenile blackchin tilapia (Sarotherodon melanotheron) or spotted tilapia (Pelmatolapia mariae). While I chose stills from the videos that I thought highlighted the fish well, the videos were filled with these fish. The other videos that I collected from this spring were similar.
The blue tilapia, which were less abundant than the blackchins or the spotted tilapia, dwarfed the other cichlid species. Until I surveyed at Lithia, I had not appreciated how aggressive the blue tilapia could be or how deep their nests were. Blue tilapia build and maintain their nests by picking up sand in the nest site and spitting it outside of the nest.
A blue tilapia building a nest.
I also picked up on video a bunch of the much smaller chanchita (Cichlasoma dimerus, yet another exotic cichlid), The video depicts an interesting feeding behavior of a chanchita in the foreground as it wiggles its tail to kick up food. An aggressive blue tilapia in the background sinks into its nest like a giant hovercraft (a longer version of this video showed the tilapia chasing away fish that approached its nest).
A chanchita doing a little feeding dance while a blue tilapia returns after defending its nest in the background.
Loads of armored catfish littered the run as well.
Armored catfish feeding in the run with a few blackchin tilapia in the background.
I did see a few native fish in the run, mostly seminole killifish (Fundulus seminolis), but also at least one largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides) and a few individuals of various sunfish species (Lepomis spp.).
Two seminole killifish with blackchin tilapia and armored catfish in the background (top) and a lone largemouth bass with blackchin tilapia in the background (bottom). It is interesting how pale the bass was in this sandy spring.
Lithia Minor
As might be expected, Lithia Minor was a much smaller spring than Lithia Major, with a round and rocky headspring and short, shallow run. The substrate was darker and supported a lot more aquatic plants.
The Lithia Minor run looking out toward the river.
The Lithia Minor headspring and vent (the bluish color).
For as small as Lithia Minor was, it had a lot going on. The fish included all of the species that occurred in Lithia Major, with the exception of seminole killifish, but it had relatively more native fish than its larger cousin. Perhaps the replacement of the big sandy plains with a rocky substrate accounted for the lower percentage of blackchin and blue tilapia, both of which dig pit-like nests 9https://www.fishbase.se/summary/1412). Adult spotted tilapia, which I did not see in Lithia Major (I only saw loads of juveniles), also were present in Lithia Minor.
The Lithia Minor headspring, looking downstream (top) and back at the vent (bottom). In the top photo, spotted tilapia that were transitioning from juvenile to adult are in the center of the frame, identifiable by the bars that were shortening into spots. Above the spotted tilapia was a native bluegill sunfish (Lepomis macrochirus) and some blue tilapia. In the bottom photo, all of the fish were spotted tilapia and all were juveniles with the exception of the fish with the spotted yellow side.
I picked up a couple of new fish (to me) at the Lithia Minor headspring: a Rio Grande cichlid (Herichthys cyanoguttatus) and an African jewelfish (Hemichromis letourneuxi).
A Rio Grande cichlid (top) and two African jewelfish (bottom) at the Lithia Minor headspring.
A video of an armored catfish scraping algae off of the rocky side of the Lithia Minor vent. Also visible were two largemouth bass, some spotted tilapia, a couple of bluegill sunfish (barred with black dot on dorsal fin), and a Rio Grande cichlid in the foreground.
In one of the most fun and scary clips of the project, two adult spotted tilapia herd a cloud of juveniles down the run (hopefully, they are visible in the small version of this clip!). According to FWC, spotted tilapia have sticky eggs (~2000!) that they attach to hard surfaces (https://myfwc.com/wildlifehabitats/profiles/freshwater/spotted-tilapia/), so it makes sense that they would be spawning in this spring rather than in the sandy Lithia Major.
Spotted tilapia parents guarding their young in Lithia Minor.
Buckhorn Spring
Buckhorn Spring is several miles downstream of Lithia Springs, on a northward curve of the Alafia River before it heads to Hillsborough Bay. To find the spring, I floated downstream from the Alafia River public boat ramp
Google Earth image showing the location of Buckhorn Spring (yellow arrow) relative to Lithia Springs (red arrow).
A lower elevation photo showing the location of the headspring at the top right of the photo and the plume of Buckhorn Spring entering the Alafia River (yellow arrow).
The spring was of my favorite type, narrow and sandy with full canopy. However, it also had about a million snags, so trying to get all the way up to the headspring was ambitious, particularly given that I read that the headspring is owned by Mosaic Phosphate Company. I had planned to paddle up to the fence and take a picture, but alas after portaging over many, many trees, I realized that I would likely run out of time before I made it up there. I turned around about halfway up the run. Buckhorn Creek is reputed to have several springs that contribute to its flow and I am fairly sure that I found one of them, but it appeared to not be flowing.
This bridge crossed Buckhorn Creek a short way up the run from the Alafia River.
One of the many obstacles, although this one was relatively easy to get past.
Along a lot of the run, I observed no fish from the boat. The water flowed very fast and scoured the run down to the sand in many areas. At the spot where I turned around, about halfway up the run, I captured no fish on the cameras either, but as I worked my way downstream, I picked up the occasional sunfish and lots of shiners working very hard to stay in place in the vicinity of flow-blocking structure.
Shiners working hard to stay in place about 1/3 of the way up the Buckhorn Spring run.
A spotted sunfish hanging out around the flow-breaking structure of logs.
Downstream of the bridge, the spring was deeper and the flow was a little slower. The fish did not have to work as hard to stay in place and so I recorded lots of shiners as well as a largemouth bass and a spotted tilapia.
A largemouth bass in the upper corner of the image with a huge shoal of shiners.
A spotted tilapia inspecting the camera.
Where the spring water met the river, the light became golden and spotted sunfish and tilapia milled around, entering the spring and returning to the river.
A spotted sunfish at the confluence of the spring and the river.
The point where the spring enters the river is apparently a popular spot for recreation. I watched three different parties spend some time there in the short time that it took me to film the end of the spring. One woman told that I should come out and film the “fish tornado” around her legs. It turns out that the tornado was composed of silversides; usually when I see silversides, they are golden silversides (Labidesthes vanhyningi) and I see them alone or in pairs. Inland silversides (Menidia beryllina), on the other hand, form schools, so perhaps I would have another species to add to the list if I could be sure of the identification in the murk.
Recreators at the confluence of the spring and the river (top) and the “fish tornado” of silversides (bottom) in the river just off the point where the boat is parked in the top photo.
Spring characteristics and water quality
The three springs described in this post differed greatly in morphology, from very wide to very narrow. Two of the three were sandy; one was rocky. Two had moderately high flow; one had very high flow. Despite these differences, all three had relatively little algae and all had loads of exotic species. All three were on the slightly warmer side for Florida springs (24.1 to 25.9oC).
I was not able to measure oxygen at the headspring of either Lithia Major or Buckhorn Spring. In its short run, Lithia Major ranged from 2.74 to 5.69 mg/L and, in its longer run, Buckhorn ranged from 3.77 to 5.28 mg/L. Lithia Minor ranged from 1.75 mg/L at its headspring to 3.88 mg/L near its confluence with the river. The conductivity of these springs was about double the values for springs that I visited farther inland (Lithia Major ~560 microS/cm, Lithia Minor ~570 microS/cm, and Buckhorn ~540 microS/cm), but still low relative to the springs with tidal influences. The values for all of these variables seem typical to good for Florida springs.
However, the water quality data that I found suggested that all three have experienced massive increases in nitrate, despite their lack of abundant algae. The USGS collected nitrate data for Lithia Major from 1965 to 1999 (why did they stop?) and these data show a huge increase in nitrate up to the late 1980s, but the nitrate concentrations in 1965 already were quite high (if the background nitrate concentration was on the order of 0.35 mg/L). What were background concentrations of nitrate in these springs if concentrations were already so high in 1965 and what has happened since 1999?
Data in a SWFWMD report for Buckhorn from the early 1990s to 1999 suggest that its nitrate concentrations were only a bit lower than those of Lithia. The only data that I could find on USGS NWIS for Buckhorn were from 1972 and suggest that nitrate was 0.9 mg/L at that time.
A SWFWMD report from 1993 indicated that the source of the nitrate in Lithia and Buckhorn Springs was “inorganic fertilizers applied to citrus, with minor animal-waste [dairy] contributions” (https://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/sites/default/files/medias/documents/LithiaBuckhornSprings.pdf). It also reported that the “minimum travel time of groundwater in the fracture [limestone fractures in the aquifer] is approximately 1 mile every 5 years”. According to a Hillsborough county website, the proportion of land in agriculture has dropped from 27 to 13% from 1990 to 2020 (http://hillsborough.wateratlas.usf.edu/watershed/geography.asp?wshedid=1&wbodyatlas=watershed), but I could find no data older than 1990. If land in citrus was taken off line, how long would it take the nitrate to stabilize or decline if other land uses contributed less nitrate? The report indicated that bringing 11,000 septic online by the early 1990s might affect the spring nitrate concentrations. It would be interesting to know what those concentrations are now.
View of the mermaid show building from “Buccaneer Bay”, looking upstream at the headspring (top) and down the run at the waterslide (bottom).
Weeki Wachee Spring was not what I expected. I had only been to the park once in the early-mid 2000s for a conference on spring conservation. I brought my sons who were smallish at the time and they had a blast playing on the water slide and whatnot. Therefore, I expected the water slides and, of course, the mermaid theater for which the park is so famous. However, I did not expect the gloriously blue and clear water of the run below the water park. It was wonderful.
The park sits at the southern end of a swath of undeveloped coastal land and salt marsh, due east of Brooksville. Like Homosassa Springs, the west of the springhead is green coastal forest and salt marsh, but downstream development punctures the green between the spring and the Gulf. However, there the comparison ends. Homosassa is wide, deep, and relatively straight with development right outside the park and all down the north side. Weeki Wachee is narrow, shallow, windy, and turquoise, with a substantial house-less stretch of the run just downstream of the park.
Google Earth images showing Weeki Wachee State Park, Wildlife Management Area, and nature coast development (top) and the blue of the run, even visible by satellite (bottom).
Happily, the park let me in before the visitors arrived, so I was able to photograph unobstructed.
Features of the park, often highlighting the mermaids.
Despite the built environment of the mermaid theater, Buccaneer Bay, and the support buildings surrounding the headspring, the run was clear and wonderfully blue.
View downstream of Buccaneer Bay, looking at the ecotour dock (top) and of the run further downstream as I floated downstream (bottom).
When I first started filming, the park was very quiet. After a quick splash, I saw a diver disappear into the large headspring. This round-ish headspring measures approximately 100 ft across and the mermaids swim down to a depth of about 20 ft and cave divers report that the main pool is 45 ft deep (https://www.floridastateparks.org/learn/history-weeki-wachee, http://www.caveatlas.com/systems/system.asp?ID=89). However, divers have explored down past 400 ft, making it the deepest cave system in the US (https://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/projects/springs/weeki-wachee). As I set up my first camera, I had no idea that someone had a rock soundtrack going underwater for their work that day until I watched the video that I collected.
A three legged turtle swimming to Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train.
I was pleasantly surprised at the diversity of fish, even at the headspring. I recorded a variety of shiners and sunfish (Lepomis spp.), bluefin killifish (Lucania goodei), largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides), gar (Lepisosteus sp.-in the distance so harder to ID), striped mullet (Mugil cephalus), Atlantic needlefish (Strongylura marina), and sheepshead (Archosargus probatocephalus) in addition to several turtles. None of these fish are rare, but still the diversity was higher than several other springs that I visited.
The above-water view as I set my camera downstream of Buccaneer Bay (seen in the distance, top) and the underwater view as bluegill (Lepomis macrochirus) and spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus) checked out the camera.
A largemouth bass posing at this same site with striped mullet and sheepshead in the background.
Further downstream: so many bass (top) and two Atlantic needlefish facing off (bottom).
There also were some fun predator-prey dynamics. A bass dropped down the bottom of the run, right behind some algae, a little like a police officer positioning their car behind some trees to spot speeders. After the bass disappeared, its potential prey (shiners) reappeared.
The bass landing on the bottom (speed 500x).
Shiners coming out of hiding in a very busy spot (video speed is 1000x).
I floated downstream through the clear blue water and eelgrass (Valisneria americana) with riparian forest on either side. I turned around when I saw the first building, which appeared to be some kind of camp.
Google Earth image showing where I turned around.
Downstream, there was more algae and somewhat more suspended particles, but it was still lovely. I picked up more mullet and needlefish downstream. I also filmed some rainwater killifish (Lucania parva), which I have observed in springs with higher conductivities.
Mullet scraping off the algae growing on the eelgrass with needlefish in the background.
Mullet and a sheepshead.
Later, I paddled upstream from the neighborhood where I had rented an Airbnb on a canal. Here boat traffic was higher and much of the vegetation disappeared, although there still were scattered beds of eelgrass.
Google Earth image of the area between the neighborhoods.
In many of the areas, the bottom was pure sand and I picked up an additional salt-tolerant fish, the tidewater mojarra (Eucinostomus harengulus).
Tidewater mojarra.
Needlefish and mullet downstream of the park.
Just upstream of Weeki Wachee Gardens, a dredge operation was deepening the channel. Even so, as I paddled late in the day, after the workday was done, I saw a manatee.
Dredge operation upstream of Weeki Wachee Gardens.
I also ventured downstream Weeki Wachee Gardens, heading toward the Gulf. As I floated downstream, I saw crevalle jacks, gar, and snook as well as the bass, mullet, needlefish, and sheepshead that I observed upstream.
As I left the neighborhood, the landscape changed to saltmarsh and the water got very salty and murky. However, I could just barely make out a gulf killifish (Fundulus grandis), more mojarra, and what appeared to be a snapper.
Google Earth Image of the area where I videoed downstream of Weeki Wachee Gardens (top) and a view of the sunset over the salt marsh (bottom).
Gulf killfish in the saltier water downstream of the neighborhoods.
Like the other Nature Coast springs, the springshed of Weeki Wachee is highly developed to the east, but relatively untouched to the west.
The SW FL Water Management District water quality dashboard indicates that the water clarity today (6/10/24) is 67 feet at the headspring, allowing clear views of the mermaids (and fish). It produces somewhere between 80 and 140 million gallons per day, making it a first magnitude spring. A graph on the dashboard suggests that disharge is higher now than it was in the mid-2000s. The spring is very slightly warmer than many Florida springs (SWFWMD = 75.1oF, I measured 23.6-24.1oC) and the dissolved oxygen concentrations are moderately low (SWFWMD = 1.81 mg/L at the headspring today, I measured 2.09 near the headspring). The oxygen increased as I traveled downstream, reaching 8.18 mg/L in the portion of the run between the two neighborhoods, likely due to a combination of turbulence, oxygen production by eelgrass upstream, and the more abundant algae in this region of the spring. The conductivity of the upstream portion of the spring is relatively low (SWFWMD = 370 microS/cm, I measured ~360 microS/cm). Below Weeki Wachee Gardens, the conductivity shot up considerably to 3960-5250 microS/cm), likely accounting for the larger number of salt tolerant species in this region of the run.
Like many Florida springs, the nitrate concentration of Weeki Wachee has increased over time. However, for the last decade, it has maintained a fairly constant, but very high, level (the background level used for DEP planning for springs in FL is 0.35 mg/L). The seminal studies on nitrate in FL springs showed increases through the 1970s, but Weeki Wachee was at the commonly-used baseline in the early 1990s. Fortunately, Weeki Wachee has been monitored for well over 100 years, so I was able to find nitrate data back to the 1970s (the earlier data would be for streamflow only). In fact, Weeki Wachee does show this same increase in nitrate that has been observed in other springs–it just started a lower concentration (~0.1 mg/L). Hopefully, the leveling off that the data suggest has happened will be a long term trend (even better would be a decrease, of course).
Increase in nitrate concentration in Weeki Wachee from the 1970s to the 1990s (data from USGS NWIS: https://maps.waterdata.usgs.gov/mapper/index.html). The upper end of this graph matches the start of the graph above perfectly, showing that the nitrate concentrations steadily increased from the mid 1970s to the early 2010s.
Werner-Boyce Salt Spring is a deep hole out in the matrix of mangrove wetlands, channels, and pools (shown above) of the Nature Coast, about halfway between Homosassa and Clearwater. When in the park, the land seems remote and untouched, but development is not even on the other side of the highway.
Google Earth images showing the thick development east of Werner-Boyce State Park (top) and a lower altitude view showing Salt Spring (yellow arrow) and Culvert Spring (red arrow).
The spring can be reached on foot by a short walk on a trail from the parking lot, but it is only reachable by boat from the kayak launch at high tide. At low tide, a limestone bridge obstructs passage and creates a “tidal waterfall” and spring water flows over and under this bridge. However, the spring also is open to a large pool on the opposite side. According to the park’s unit management plan (https://floridadep.gov/sites/default/files/02.15.2013_WBSSSP_AP.pdf), the vent is in the side of a rock wall in a wide spot of the tidal creek.
The limestone bridge that makes the “tidal waterfall” at low tide.
The sign announcing to visitors that they have found the spring. Without the sign, the spring would be difficult to find.
At low tide, an alligator watched over the spring, but it was gone by the time that I came back at high tide.
American alligator watching over Salt Spring.
I tried to film at high tide because I could get my boat to the spring with the higher water level, but the water clarity was low and I only recorded a couple of tidewater mojarra (Eucinostomus harengulus).
Tidewater mojarra at high tide in the Salt Spring “run”.
I tried again on foot at low(ish) tide, but alas, the water clarity was still low, as was the fish density. I only was able to see a marsh killifish (Fundulus confluentus) and a couple of sailfin mollies (Poecilia latipinna)
Large, breeding sailfin molly.
There are several other springs in the park, including Cauldron Spring, which walkers cross on the hiking trail to Salt Spring from the parking lot. I apparently missed the origin of Cauldron Spring as it wound back into the salt marsh. From its headspring in a pool (https://floridadep.gov/sites/default/files/02.15.2013_WBSSSP_AP.pdf), it travels north through the culvert under the walking path bridge until it merges with the flow from Salt Spring. I startled a young alligator in this spring and saw a snook (Centropomus unidecimalis) in the run below the culvert late in the day.
Juvenile American alligator in Cauldron Spring below the culvert.
Above the culvert, I recorded more fish in this spring than anywhere else that day, mostly the highly tolerant mosquitofish (Gambusia holbrooki) and sailfin mollies (Poecilia latipinna), but also a marsh killifish and a couple of spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus). However, the water clarity was dreadful everywhere, probably due to natural suspended solids in these salt marsh/mangrove systems.
Marsh killifish in Cauldron Spring above the culvert. Despite the poor water clarity, the fish is identifiable by its stripes and black spot on the rear of its dorsal fin.
The other springs that I saw along the walking path were quite small, including “Reflection Spring” and “Red Spring”. I did not sample these springs.
Red Spring.
Reflection Spring.
I found almost no data on groundwater flow or water quality for these springs. The park’s unit management plan reported that the flow was 9-10 cfs, as measured three times in the 1960-1970s (I also found a measurement of 8.36 cfs from 1997 on the USGS NWIS website). The report also mentioned that the hydrology of the area was modified by mosquito ditches and by storm water drainage from the town of Port Ritchey just to the south, which occurred both through drainage canals and through sheet flow. Some storm water control pond construction and dredging for residential and commercial areas also has occurred on the lands abutting the park. Although the unit management plan alluded to water quality data, I only found data related to salinity, which I found on the USGS NWIS website. The springs in the park are not in “Springs of Florida” USGS publication (https://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00094032/00001/images).
The data that I collected suggested that the groundwater was a bit warmer than the tidal water (25 vs 23oC). The oxygen concentrations were moderate (~4-6 mg/L) and higher above the culvert in Cauldron Spring (7.2-7.5 mg/L). As might be expected, the conductivity (a measure of the number of ions in freshwater, like the freshwater version of salinity) was high in Salt Spring (21-22 microS/cm). It was approximately two orders of magnitude higher than many of the other springs that I have sampled. Interestingly, the conductivity that I measured late in the afternoon in Cauldron Spring was much lower, both below (1.5-1.7 microS/cm) and above (~1.8 microS/cm) the culvert. It would appear that Cauldron Spring is less tidally influenced than Salt Spring, which is connected to the Gulf through channels in the mangroves.
The Homosassa Spring main vent, called “The Fish Bowl”.
Homosassa Springs is like no other: part spring, part rehabilitation facility, part zoo. It sits on the “Nature Coast”, just south of Crystal River and north of its famous cousin, Weeki Wachee State Park. The whole coastline in that region of Florida is fairly undeveloped, but a ridge just to the east of the coastline has experienced rapid development. The land just to the east of that ridge has been in agricultural use for many, many decades.
The location of Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park in the Nature Coast.
A close-up of the Nature Coast showing Homosassa Springs feeding into the matrix of channels along the Nature Coastline.
An even closer close-up of the spring showing the clear water flowing into the larger channel of the Homosassa River. The red arrow shows “The Fish bowl” and the yellow arrow shows the wildlife park.
Officially called Ellie Schiller Homosassa Springs Wildlife State Park, the spring has been an attraction since the late 1800s. The park was one of Florida’s earliest attractions; a train bought visitors to the spring from 1893 to 1941. In the 1920s, a bridge built over the 55 ft. main vent, christened “The Fish Bowl”, allowed visitors to see through the clear water to the fish below. In the 1950s, an observation platform and underwater observatory replaced the bridge to give visitors an even more intimate view of the abundant common snook (Centropomis unidecimalis) and grey snapper (Lutjanus griseus) in the headspring. The state bought the property in 1989 and named the park for noted fisheries biologist/environmental advocate/philanthropist Ellie Schiller.
Common snook (top) passing by the window of the underwater observatory and some grey snapper (bottom) contemplating the drop off to the vent at the headspring.
In the 1940s, the wildlife park contained a variety of exotic animals like lions, bears, and monkeys. Now all the animals in the park are native to Florida, with the exception of Lu the hippo.
Lu, the hippo (Hippopotamus amphibius).
A Florida panther (Puma concolor coryi) resting in its house.
Two roseate spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) preening.
A barred owl (Strix varia) looking decidedly unimpressed.
Two flamingos (Phoenicopterus ruber) resting on one leg.
The park also rehabilitates injured manatees and serves as a refuge for uninjured manatees (Trichechus manatus). Manatees that have been hit by boats or stricken by cold stress (one of the most common sources of mortality for manatees after boat strikes) can recouperate in tanks on land. Once healthy enough to leave the tanks, they may be released into a large pen in the spring itself.
Manatees in the rehabilitation tanks (top) and in the natural pen being fed supplemental food (bottom).
Unfortunately, my access to the water was somewhat limited, given the many uses and high public presence at this spring. The vast majority of the fish that I observed were in one of three salt-tolerant species: common snook, grey snapper, or sheepshead (Archosargus probatocephalus). I also observed a couple of Atlantic needlefish (Strongylura marina). Among the freshwater species, I recorded largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides), spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus), and mosquitofish (Gambusia holbrooki).
Common snook in The Fishbowl.
Three grey snapper and a largemouth bass near the bridge on the run that leads into the wildlife sanctuary.
Two sheepshead in the Homosassa Springs’ Blue Spring.
Two spotted sunfish near the bridge on the run that leads into the wildlife sanctuary.
Homosassa Spring a first magnitude spring, with discharge ranging from 30 to over 100 cfs. The temperature (~23.5oC) and dissolved oxygen (2.3-4.7 mg/L) measurements that I collected were in line with the data collected by the Southwest Florida Water Management District and the USGS and are reasonably typical for Florida springs. As might be expected from the large number of salt-tolerant fish, Homosassa Springs is one of the higher conductivity (sort of the freshwater version of salinity) springs in Florida. A Southwest Florida Water Management District website reports that the spring receives flow from three vents, each differing in salinity, although there are more small springs in the springshed (https://www.swfwmd.state.fl.us/projects/springs/homosassa). The conductivity that I measured was more than an order of magnitude higher (3100 to 5000 microS/cm) than the conductivity at most of the other springs that I visited (in the 100-300 microS/cm range). The high conductivity, the large number of predators, and my limited ability to sample likely account for the low number of freshwater fish that I observed.
This spotted sunfish was chewed by something…
Unfortunately, Homosassa Springs is one of the Florida springs that has experienced dramatic and linear increases in nitrate loading, perhaps due to a combination of agricultural and residential land use. The Basin Management Action Plan (BMAP) produced for Homosassa Springs by the FL Department of Environmental Protection in 2018 cites farm fertilizer as the largest source of load (24%) followed by urban turfgrass (19%), septic systems (15%), and sports turfgrass (12%). Livestock waste also has contributed substantial nutrients to the springshed (11%). A variety of projects have been planned, including fertilizer application reductions, education programs, and transitioning homes from septic to sewer. Interestingly, the numbers appear to have dropped off in the last couple of years.
At a discharge of 400 million gallons of water per day, Wakulla Springs is one of Florida’s monster spring systems. Its wide headspring drops off quickly to the vent 185 ft below the surface, fed by an extensive cave network that has connections from just south of Tallahassee to the Gulf. Sally Ward Spring enters Wakulla just below the headspring.
The Wakulla headspring looks like a deep dark hole on the map. The run beyond it is wide and fairly shallow. The water labeled “Wakulla River” on the map is actually Sally Ward Spring.
In some ways, it is one of the best protected springs in the state as well as one of the largest. When he deeded the land to the state, Edward Ball stipulated that the general population would only be allowed beyond the swimming area on escorted tours. He wanted to ensure that the spring would not be loved to death, as they say. As a result, the swimming area with its dive platform, shown in the opening photograph, is the only way that an individual can get on the water without getting a ticket for a pontoon boat ride. Much of the landscape to the east and west of the spring is heavily protected.
Map of the big bend area of Florida, with Wakulla Springs shown south of Tallahassee.
However, given the extensive connections in the region, the water leaving the vent has likely been impacted at multiple points within its springshed. Landscape impacts are a reality for all Florida springs, but the Wakulla connections are especially vulnerable (an infographic by FusionSparks media is particularly helpful in seeing the flow direction: http://www.fusionspark.com/portfolio/wakulla-springs-interactive-graphic/)
In addition to protecting the spring from heavy human use, Edward Ball also provided the park with a mansion that functions as a lodge and restaurant now. While it has amenities like wifi, history lives on in the lodge.
The entrance to the Lodge.
The lobby of the Lodge with hand painted ceiling beams.
A whole row of historic photos grace the hallway walls.
The Lodge at night, photographed with my back to the spring.
A visit to Wakulla Springs is fun on many levels, but I was there to work. I started on Sally Ward Spring.
Sally Ward Spring
The first Sally Ward vent.
Most people miss Sally Ward Spring. Its runs roughly parallel to the driveway into the park and the access point to the spring is shortly after the entrance to the park off the highway. However, it is difficult to see from the road and there is no obvious parking for it. I must confess that I have not seen the absolute source of all of its water as there is water running from a culvert that runs under the road. However, it seems that most of the water is coming from the two vents below the culvert, and they shimmer with the aqua blue that make so many Florida springs lovely.
The second vent was in a bit of shadow as it was late in the day.
Many of the fish that I observed were mosquitofish (Gambusia holbrooki), shiners, and sunfish of various species (Lepomis sp.). However, there were more species on the footage than I remembered initially: a fair number of bluefin killifish (Lucania goodei) milling around, some striped mullet (Mugil cephalus) streaming past the camera, a surprising number of largemouth bass (Micropterus salmoides), a golden silverside (Labidesthes vanhyningi), and a couple of turtles.
A largemouth bass with a bluefin killifish getting out of its way.
A shoal of mullet.
These small fish originally appeared to be shiners. However, when I zoomed in on the photo, their tails looked square rather than forked, so I think that they are juvenile bluefin killifish narrowly avoiding 10 (!) largemouth bass. I counted a dozen bass on another video downstream.
A golden silverside and a turtle.
I had originally intended to film at 5 locations on Sally Ward Spring (my typical plan). However, there was a large alligator between station 5 and me. I do not usually worry too much about alligators while I am in my boat, but the run was very narrow and I was warned about an alligator at this exact spot in 2017. While looking right at me, it sank down into the water and I decided instead to film where the hiking trail intersects the run downstream. I was rewarded with my favorite video of the entire trip.
The bridge over the Sally Ward run.
Two largemouth bass in Sally Ward run at the bridge.
My favorite: a brown water snake (Nerodia taxispilota), identified by Terry Farrell, foraging on Sally Ward run at the bridge.
Wakulla Spring
Sunrise at Wakulla headspring. Part of the vent was still in shadow.
The next morning I sampled Wakulla Spring at 8 am. Wakulla in the early morning is glorious. The massive spring feels almost prehistoric, with its gnarled old cypress trees running in a line down the north side of the run and petrified cypress stumps under the water line.
Some of the ancient cypress trees (top) and a petrified stump under the water in a photo looking back towards the headspring (bottom). The pontoons are the tour and park service boats.
Although the spring was not as clear as I had hoped, the clarity was still good enough to work. The ranger told me that the spring usually clears up after spring break, but the extent of the brown water is new, likely the result of groundwater abstraction upstream in the aquifer (https://news.fsu.edu/news/science-technology/2018/10/24/why-is-wakulla-springs-water-turning-brown-fsu-researchers-may-have-the-answer/). The video below, taken at the headspring, gives an idea of the volume of water expelled and how dark it was this past February. It appears that the darker water was denser than the clearer water, although this effect could have been an artifact of the camera.
Florida gar (Lepisosteus platyrhincus) in the Wakulla headspring.
Some striped mullet munching their way down the spring. It looks like there is a band of darker water above the sediment.
As I worked my way downstream, I was surprised to see a manatee. When I surveyed at Wakulla seven years ago, I saw none.
A manatee friend next to my boat.
Besides the impressively large spring, the gorgeous old cypress trees, the mastodon bones, and the chorus of birds in the morning, one of the notable things about Wakulla Spring is its cohort of beautiful largemouth bass and Florida gar. In addition to the bass and gar, a variety of poeciliids (mosquitofish and sailfin mollies, Poecilia latipinna), killifish, shiners, sunfish, and mullet made the fish assemblage fairly diverse. Turtles were abundant, too.
Largemouth bass.
Some lovely redbreast sunfish (Lepomis auritus).
A big seminole killifish (Fundulus seminolis) and a couple of spotted sunfish (Lepomis punctatus).
More striped mullet.
A turtle at the confluence of Sally Ward and Wakulla Springs.
As I worked my way down the run and up the side channel, I was passed by the park service staff escorting a couple of scientists, one an older gentleman. I am not sure who he was, but he asked me if I was filming the little fish. He said that bluefin killifish disappeared from the spring for a while. Happily, I filmed a lots of them.
Bluefin killifish and a redear sunfish (Lepomis microlophus).
My only disappointment was that I failed to get on video the baby alligators that I scared (by accident) from a nest or the older (but still small) alligator from the bank. All I got was the trail.
The trail of a startled alligator.
Because I was trying to look for saltwater influences on spring fish assemblages, I decided to try filming downstream at the State Road 30 bridge. Although I saw a crab and a couple of sunfish, most of the animals that I observed were olive nerites (Vitta usnea), which represent a brackish species that occurs in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean.
This video of olive nerites crawling is sped up 3000x. A small bass zooms through the video if you can catch sight of it.
With the exception of the tannin stained water coming out of the vent, the water quality of Wakulla Spring appears to be generally fairly good. The likely culprit for the increase in tannin-stained water coming out of the vent, according to FSU scientists, is higher groundwater withdrawals to support growing populations in the region. Tannins are produced naturally when plant material decomposes in swampy conditions, much like steeping tea. The tannin-stained water then enters the aquifer in the regional forests naturally. However, prior to increases in groundwater withdrawals, there was enough clear water in the system that this tannic water was diluted or flowed elsewhere.
With respect to nutrients, the spring has undergone several studies and the history of this work is outlined in the spring’s MFL plan (minimum flow and level). One such study, in 2004-2005, suggested that the city of Tallahassee’s water treatment facility was contributing a great deal of nitrate to the spring due to leakage through the underground connections in the limestone. The water treatment facility was upgraded in 2012. Later, BMAP (basin management action plan) and MFL programs were developed for the spring in 2018 and 2021, respectively. The BMAP, which was primarily focused on nutrient abatement for the spring, again identified Tallahassee’s water reclamation facility as the largest contributor to nitrate concentrations in the spring. As a result, the facility was upgraded again, this time to “advanced wastewater treatment”. The MFL document, which was primarily focused on water quantity but also included water quality and ecological data, reported that by 2021 septic tanks were the largest contributor of nutrients (34%), followed by atmospheric deposition (27%), and farming (21%). As a result, Leon County aggressively constructed four major septic-to-sewer projects, which put homeowners on sewer rather than septic, between 2019-2021. Since the late 1990s, the nitrate concentrations appear to have dropped by almost half. It appears that the biggest improvement was from that 2012 upgrade, but that the other two programs, initiated by the BMAP and the MFL, have continued the nitrate concentration decline towards the 0.35 mg/L baseline goal.
Figure from: Recommended Minimum Flows for Wakulla and Sally Ward Springs, Wakulla County, Florida, Northwest Florida Water Management District.
The conductivity (freshwater version of salinity) of Wakulla and Sally Ward springs has tended to be moderately low for Florida springs (~300+ microS/cm). My measurements agreed with this trend (308-346 microS/cm) in the two springs and the conductivity was only slightly higher in the Wakulla River at the State Road 30 bridge (334-380 microS/cm). Similarly, the dissolved oxygen has tended to be fairly low in Wakulla Spring (1-3 mg/L). The dissolved oxygen that I measured was fairly low at the Wakulla vent (2.0 mg/L) and in the vicinity of the Sally Ward vents (3.0 mg/L). However, the oxygen downstream of the Wakulla headspring was a bit higher (3.3-6.6 mg/L), as it was in Sally Ward (3.9-8.4 mg/L), likely due to the large eelgrass (Valisneria americana) and algae beds.
A Florida Spring Odyssey 