Bluegrass and Birding

Peg and Bob really enjoyed bluegrass music, going to festivals and even paying for SiriusXM radio* so they could listen to it at their house and while driving. When the Withlacoochee Bluegrass Festival came up, I said I’d be her Plus 1. Peg warned me she went to all the acts all three days, but I assured her I was up for it. And we did. 

Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, from noon to 9:00 PM, we were in our reserved spots (Row G, #11 & #12, BYO Chair) under the big pole barn, listening to amazing players and singers. Of course, I knew none of the bands, but Peg did. She also knew the songs, and one, “Tall Weeds and Rust”, is her current favorite. To my surprise, the tunes were originals, not just covers of the old Lester Flatts and Earl Scruggs songs. Peg said it is called “newgrass”. With a couple exceptions, the bands were fiddle, banjo, mandolin, upright bass and guitar. Two or three members sang, and most everyone could play all the instruments. I guess to artists at this level, strings are strings. 

After chatting with the emcee during the dinner break Friday, we learned that most groups have 2-3 core members, and the backup players flow from band to band each year. For example, the Little Roy and Lizzy Show are known for hiring young players who, after a couple of years, went on to other groups. Probably cheaper for Roy and Lizzie, good résumé addition for the young players. Currently they had Josh and John, brothers from California, absolutely amazing.

We were supposed to camp, which worried Grant because I’m still not as strong as we’d like, and he was afraid we’d have trouble handling the tent, cots, etc. Fortunately, Peg checked the weather Wednesday. Rain and cold were predicted. I quickly made a reservation at the Dinner Bell Motel in Dunnellon, getting the last available room. Once her son Robert heard, he forbade us from staying at “that” place, so at almost 3 times the price, I made reservations at the Comfort Inn instead. Our children are starting to be quite controlling. The first 2 1/2 days of the festival were sunny and warm enough, but the rains came Saturday afternoon, followed by 40° weather. I’m just as glad we had a dry hotel room.

I had not realized this was also a birding tour. Friday morning, we had breakfast with my friend Barbara, who’d moved to the Ocala area years ago to own a small horse farm with her daughter Katie. Now grown, Katie is back in Fort Lauderdale, and Barbara moved over to Dunnellon. We met at the Front Porch, which didn’t open until 9:00. The other mornings, Peg had us up and out by 7:15, before the birds had started their dawn chorus.

Saturday, we went to the K P Hole on the Withlacoochee River. Gates don’t open until 8:00, so we walked down to the boat ramp where a contractor was getting set up for a scuba trip for a group of young Chinese. The local water taxi would ferry the group upriver, then they would drift back down, seeing fish and turtles, maybe manatees along the way. The captain, who pointed out a bald eagle perched across the river, was throwing bread to small fish. A big bass made breakfast of one not paying attention. Captain said it happened every time.

We went on to Rainbow Springs, originally a phosphate mine, then, in the 1930’s, turned into an attraction with gardens, a zoo, glass-bottom boats, and 3 artificial waterfalls. The state of Florida bought it for a park in 1990, after it had closed in 1974. I am sure I’d never been there. Peg thought I had. Could be. We watched 2 intrepid swimmers do laps (72° water year round) in the roped-off swimming area. A mother with 2 daughters were joining them. We walked the 2 mile yellow trail, meeting 3 people with dogs. Peg spotted a deer. Otherwise, we had the park almost to ourselves.

Sunday, I thought we’d sleep in, but my guide had found Blue Run, a county park that gives kayak and canoe access to the river. Up and out again before dawn. Walking on the multi-use paved path, we saw 3 pileated woodpeckers together, perhaps a family. At the bridge, we were high enough to look down on northern parola warblers rather than craning our necks back to see them.

Being out meant we missed the meh hotel breakfast. In addition to the Front Porch which served good food, medium priced, we ate at the Citrus Grill, better food, cheaper price, and the Purple Sage Cafe, most expensive, best food. An example of you get what you pay for. Plus the last came with a diatribe against the Biden administration by the owner, a Pakistani who displayed commendation plaques from the US State Department for his service. I didn’t hear the other diners saying Amen, but I’d bet they were thinking it. This is a deep red area, as was the bluegrass festival. When one band closed with Dixie (starting off with a comment about it not being about politics, as if), most of the audience stood. Definitely, not my people. I saw 2 black people there during the entire 3 days. Were they fans or missed a turn? It reminded me of when I took the kids to the St. Louis Arch. Something seemed off, then I realized everyone was white except for one older black couple, dressed like retired teachers. I knew I wasn’t in South Florida anymore.

While I was away, Grant had to take Annie to the vet. For the past week or so, she’d stopped eating. Assuming her few remaining teeth were bothering her, I tried moistening her dried food with chicken broth, then sent Grant to the store for canned cat food. She’d take a couple of bites. Of course Gracie was right there, willing to eat whatever Annie didn’t. I’d resigned myself to allowing the vet to knock Annie out one more time for more dental work. But, she had fluid in and around her lungs, so there was nothing to be done. She was such a sweet cat, even if her constant need for petting was occasionally annoying. I will miss her. Interestingly, we’d just heard from our old neighbors in Fort Lauderdale that Annie’s brother  Maxie had died a few weeks ago. He had come back to the house, and the new owner George had taken him in and renamed him Wuhan (?). Evidently, they had become fast friends. Wuhan developed an inoperable tumor so George had to put him to sleep. I’m glad Maxie/Wuhan had found a good home. He always like to roam. A few years before, he’d moved in with family a couple of blocks to the north, perhaps better food or fewer dogs. I tried capturing him and bringing him back, but gave up. Just before we moved to Key Biscayne, he stopped by for a visit, then disappeared again. I guess he was saying goodbye.

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*We had 3 months free when we bought our Toyota Tacoma, but I never figured out how to use it well enough to pay for a subscription. We already pay for Spotify, which we don’t listen to either.