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The guide

Everglades

A vast sawgrass prairie with a tree island stretching to the horizon

The River of Grass: sawgrass prairie and tree islands stretching to the horizon. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

Getting there

Fly into Miami, then drive about 40 miles — roughly an hour — to the main eastern entrance near Homestead (the Ernest F. Coe Visitor Center). There are two other entrances: Shark Valley, about 45 minutes from Miami off the Tamiami Trail, and the Gulf Coast entrance at Everglades City. The entrances are not connected by roads inside the park, so pick one per day.

Famous for

The River of Grass itself: a shallow, slow-moving sheet of water about 100 miles long and 50 miles wide, flowing from Lake Okeechobee down to Florida Bay. The park covers 1.5 million acres and holds the largest legislated wilderness area east of the Rocky Mountains. It is the only place in the world where American alligators and American crocodiles live wild side by side — alligators rule the fresh water, crocodiles the salty coast. More than 350 bird species have been recorded here, including the pink-billed roseate spoonbill and the manatees that drift into the coastal marinas.

Where to stay & eat

Camp inside the park at Flamingo or Long Pine Key (book well ahead — sites sell out in the dry season), or stay in Homestead and Florida City, a short drive from the main entrance, which have the full run of hotels and restaurants.

What to do

An American alligator walking across the paved path on the Anhinga Trail

An American alligator strolling the Anhinga Trail, as they do. (Photo: NPS Photo)

A roseate spoonbill sweeping its bill through shallow water

A roseate spoonbill feeding — its pink comes from the crustaceans it eats. (Photo: NPS Photo)

An American crocodile resting with its pointed snout and toothy grin

An American crocodile: pointed snout, toothy grin, saltwater specialist. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons)

A flock of wood storks soaring over the Everglades marshes

Wood storks circling over the marshes. (Photo: NPS Photo)

Jess’s favourite

The Anhinga Trail at first light

Be on the boardwalk at opening time, walk slowly, and keep your voice down — the animals will come to you. Watch how the anhinga swims with just its snaky neck above water, and see if you can spot a roseate spoonbill’s pink flash before you hear it. Pure zookeeper joy, no ticket needed.

Good to know: Visit in the dry season, November through April — cooler, far fewer mosquitoes, and wildlife concentrates around the remaining water. Summer brings heat, humidity, and clouds of mosquitoes. Never feed or approach alligators; admire them from the boardwalk. Some areas are reachable only by boat, and winter holidays and spring break are the busiest times. Check nps.gov/ever for current conditions.

Photos: U.S. National Park Service (public domain) and Wikimedia Commons contributors.

Parks change: roads, tram tours, reservations and opening dates in these guides were checked at the time of writing — always check nps.gov before you go.

Read Jess’s journal ↓

Jess’s journal

Everglades: the river of grass

Dad used to tell me about the Everglades when I was small — not a swamp, he’d say, but a river, a river of grass a hundred miles long. I nodded like I understood, but I was imagining a river you could see. Standing at the Pa-hay-okee Overlook in the spring of my college years, looking out over sawgrass that ran to the horizon in every direction, I finally got it. The river is there. It’s just so wide and slow and shallow that you have to stand still a long time before you believe it.

The trail that stops you cold

We walked the Anhinga Trail at Royal Palm first thing in the morning, when the park’s best wildlife watching is at its best. A ranger had told us to walk quietly, and ten minutes in we understood why: an American alligator was walking straight down the paved path toward us, low and deliberate, owning every inch of it. We stepped back onto the grass and let her pass. She didn’t hurry. Why would she? Keeper translation: that boardwalk trail is her dining room.

Pink, then pinker

The wading birds that day were almost embarrassing in their beauty. Anhingas diving and surfacing with fish speared on their bills. Great blue herons standing like statues. And then a roseate spoonbill — that impossible pink, the spoon-shaped bill sweeping side to side through the shallows like a metal detector. The pink comes from the crustaceans they eat, the way flamingos blush on shrimp. I stood there until my legs went to sleep.

Down to Flamingo

We drove the long straight road all the way down to Flamingo on Florida Bay — 38 miles of sawgrass giving way to mangroves. At the marina, a manatee surfaced just off the dock: a nose, a roll, gone. And in the same hour, tucked into a shallow backwater, an American crocodile lay sunning, pale and toothy. Alligator and crocodile, one trip, one park. It’s the only place in the world where both live wild together. Dad would have loved that — he always said Florida couldn’t make up its mind.

Animals spotted

The honest tally: a dozen or more American alligators (one of whom owned the Anhinga Trail that morning), roseate spoonbills, great blue herons, snowy egrets, anhingas and double-crested cormorants by the score, a flock of wood storks wheeling overhead, one manatee at Flamingo marina, and a single American crocodile — far off, still, and unforgettable.

Story seed

What if Clarence and Pinafor met an alligator who keeps the water holes safe for everyone in the dry season — and the two little friends had to learn that the scariest-looking neighbour is sometimes the kindest?

Barnaby’s note

“You let an alligator pass on her own path, Jess — that’s the whole of good zookeeping in one small gesture. Watch quietly, step aside, and let the wild ones be themselves. The river of grass noticed, I’m sure of it. Well done, my dear keeper.”

— Barnaby

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