Lyonia Preserve

Along the trail at Lyonia Preserve

At Lyonia Preserve in Deltona, interactions with scrub-jays are surprisingly common. In 1994, Volusia County set out to reverse the degradation of scrub-jay habitat by cutting down dense thickets of tall sand pines, leaving rolling hills re-populated with scrub oaks and young sand pines. Soon after, the birds moved in. According to Randall Sleister, the Habitat Management Supervisor for the preserve, “When we started the restoration, there was a single scrub-jay family living on a nearby golf course just north of the site. The scrub-jays have been breeding here for six years now. During our last survey in 1998, we counted 88 birds. We now estimate the population to be over 100.”

More than four miles of trails crisscross the preserve, with a 2.1-mile circuit of three color-coded loops the easiest route for hikers to follow. Starting off at the trailhead at the Deltona Public Library, follow the Rusty Lyonia Trail past a native plant garden and a picnic shelter. Cross-trails are not marked, but the main trails sport color-coded stakes and signs at key intersections. Walk clockwise around the outer loop to enjoy the optimum route.

As you climb upward, the trail is a soft blinding-white sand, winding through a forest of scrub oaks – myrtle oak, Chapman oak, and sand live oak – only three to seven feet tall, a perfect environment for the Florida scrub-jay. Bald patches of crystalline white sand snake between the trees, broken up by clumps of aromatic Florida rosemary. The soft needles of scattered young sand pines bow towards the ground.

Near the first wetland, we have our first encounter with a scrub-jay. It’s perched in a high branch, and I can hardly make it out, but by its size and shape I know what it is. It’s sunrise; soft hues of tangerine and toast seep across the sky. We walk on. At the next trail junction, we continue straight, heading forward on the Blueberry Trail to the south end of the preserve. On the trail’s high point, fifty feet above sea level, we look down to a panorama of the preserve, across a vast wetland. Standing ankle-deep in water, two distant sandhill cranes consult each other, their haunting cries carrying across the scrub. As we descend, the cranes leap for the sky, gliding overhead in perfect formation as they continue their rattling squawks. The short sand pines around us, reminiscent of Christmas trees, become perches for scrub-jays, one after another. We stop and watch.