It's a funny old name for a park that might otherwise be known simply as "The Bird Sanctuary" but Indigenous is what it's called and the ubiquitous Sonny McCoy, the outgoing county commissioner was involved in this one too:
The park is located across from Rest Beach, which is the short strip of beach east of the White Street Pier. It is right next to the Southernmost
bocce court:
And the access to the park is tucked away between some bushes next to the
bocce:
Indigenous Park is worth a visit for lovers of birds, particularly chickens:
The park has an expansive decked area, human restrooms and a bird recovery area for fowl discovered in need of help:
Indigenous Park is an excellent resource for people who find injured birds, they have boxes at the park where one can place the birds overnight and they will be picked up and cared for by the volunteers in the morning. And speaking of volunteers Karen is the leader on that front but she told me she is getting weary and needs someone to take over leadership of this intensive task:
I first came to appreciate the park when I came across a dazed and confused pigeon while stopping off for dinner in Homestead. I snagged a cardboard box, put the bird in it and dropped the bird off at Indigenous around midnight. Next morning I checked in and the volunteer told me the bird was
rehydrated and doing well. Silly really, but I was glad they were there. The birds seem to be too:
The part I like best about Indigenous Park is the back area, an overgrown forest of greenery and light, with cement trails winding between the trees:
The stuff of
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil...
And as I strolled through the gardens I heard an appalling screech out of the branches overhead. All I could see in the shadows created by the bright sunny day was a russet colored bird:
I had not a clue what the bird might be but I came across an avid birder, a man who fell in step with me and told tales of bird spotting across the Americas. He tweeted and whooped and
encouraged the birds to hop down the branches of the trees to get a closer look at us, standing on the path way chatting of this and that.
He squinted at the picture in my camera and
suggested it might be a red shouldered hawk, which sounded okay to me, whatever that is. The Birder
wasn't interested in the pond at the end of the walkway but I enjoyed watching the turtles flop off their branches and come swimming up to me as tame as dogs in search of a treat:
And we meandered back to the
entrance engaged in a
companionable conversation about birds, travel and politics finding surprising numbers of points in common, shy expectations of better things from President Obama, mutual pleasure at the delights of Central American travel (though I care not for watching birds!) as the sunlight played on the waters of Hawk Channel to the south:
In the parking lot we parted ways with expressions of mutual good will and we never even exchanged names. It was enough to be in the right place at the right time. Check it out, Indigenous Park, you never know what you might find.
