A chattering kingfisher stays just in front of my boat hovering in the air like a hummingbird, then diving at the water to snatch a minnow. Vultures circle lazily, riding the thermals. An occasional woodstork will join them as they wind higher and higher. A peregrine falcon sits on a dead palm snag and a red-shouldered hawk screams nearby. Thousands of robins are wakening in the red cedar hammocks.
Tree swallows are dive bombing for insects over the marsh.
Savannah sparrows and myrtle warblers flit and chip in the bushes and a squadron of brown pelicans glides silently overhead. Around the next bend a flock of coots noisily runs on top of the water trying to stay ahead of my boat. The creek water is getting saltier now. The myrtles, cattails and willows are giving way to an unending sea of cord grass. This is a pristine salt marsh, one of the few left in the Indian River Lagoon that has not been altered by man.