Lyonia Preserve

This article appeared in theOrlando Sentinel  in 2002

It is barely daybreak when Joan Jarvis and I reach the trailhead at Lyonia Preserve. Hues of tangerine and toast seep into the morning sky as we head up the sand path into the 400 acres of oak and rosemary scrub, a critical habitat for the Florida scrub-jay. The land here once looked like most of the undeveloped patches around Deltona, dense thickets of tall sand pines choking out the undergrowth. But in 1994, Volusia County Land Acquisition and Management launched an aggressive habitat management project to restore this hillside to an environment friendly to the scrub-jay—removing the tall sand pines and allowing the short oak scrub to re-establish itself. Build it, and they will come.

According to Randall Sleister, Habitat Management Supervisor for Lyonia 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.”

Lyonia Preserve has become Central Florida’s top site for birders seeking the Florida scrub-jay. 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 on the Rusty Lyonia Trail, Joan and I keep to the outside of the loop, switching off to the Red Root Trail. 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 open 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,

As we reach the first wetland, we hear the persistent calls of the eastern towhee, another feathered resident of the scrub. A cedar waxwing perches on a rotting stump. The sky slowly turns to blue as the first rays of sunrise peep over the distant trees. As we turn a corner, Joan and I both notice a plump bird sitting well up in a sand pine. “That’s it!”