Shivering from winter’s morning chill, I apprehensively slip off the back end of a pontoon boat and thread my way into the warm waters of Crystal River on Florida’s west coast. It is cold, in late January, and the air temperature hovers in the upper 30s. Still, the sun is bright in the brilliant blue, unclouded sky.
The watery landscape of the river is mirrored and clear, drenched with flowing sunlight. As I ricochet off from the boat into the water, I gather my courage and wits, as I’m about to swim unnervingly close to a mama and baby manatee, which together probably weigh close to a ton. Just one knock of the mother’s enormous tail could fling me back to Georgia.
I’m sheathed in a skintight neck-to-ankle black wetsuit and weigh much more than I should. To the mother and child, I probably look more manatee than human, although I’m assured otherwise.
