Since the National Park Service gave me an off road vehicle (ORV) permit, which allows me to drive in the back country of Big Cypress National Preserve (http://www.nps.gov/bicy/) here in the Everglades in a painless, simple, the way it should be process, I can camp 5-10 miles deeper in the American Jungle. Last year they denied me a permit, although I had the same vehicle. A park ranger refused to measure the tread on the truck’s tires correctly, so they didn’t have the required nine inches. I went back a second time and another ranger did the same. As I was leaving the Preserve I tried again and a third ranger measured the tread including the sides as the instructions say, and was willing to give me a permit. I laughed, told her of two previous tries, that I was leaving, that I just wanted to see if it would happen again, and I’d ask for her next February.  I’m camped at Pink Jeep Camp Ground.  No tent anymore; in a tent, that’s what the word camp means to me.  I set up one and fastened a screen room to it to form a little “house” for years. It took two days to erect, get it right and about the same time to disassemble, when I moved on. That was quite a time-consuming process. Now, about all I need to do is find a level spot to park my nest, a Capri Rodeo slide-in camper on a Ford F-150 pickup truck, and enjoy nature.
    After my morning walk during which Mother Nature chose to show me a bobcat, which walked within 50 feet of me before turning off the camp road (Perocchi Grade Trail) and a male painted bunting, I decided to check out a grassy trail that goes north from my campsite and the dirt road that goes to Rt. 29. As with any of these days of my Adventure, including this walk, I didn’t have any distinct objective - just enjoy and be warm. I do want to find a thin straight branch, limb or stick, that I can use as a curtain rod, though. Simple enough, I can handle that.
    As I began the trail I noticed the grass was high enough to hide my sandaled feet.  I think about going back and putting on boots, but it’s in the 80s, too warm. I hate shoes and boots even more, so I continue several hundred yards more. My conscience is nagging me though, and reminding me that I’m violating one my few rules, “If I can’t see my feet don’t walk there!”  Who knows what lurks out of sight. I also know that Burmese Pythons have invaded the Everglades. I’ve never seen one. They eat alligators. I hope to never see one.  Surely I don’t want to stumble over one, and have to tangle with it out here by myself off the camp road. The roads are occasionally traveled by others, but here not so often. That’s not my idea of a good time and not worth the risk, so I change my mind and head back to the camp road.
    On the way I remember there was an empty house just off the trail. The Park Service has purchased almost all the private property and torn down most of the houses. As I get close I’m surprised to find it is still intact.  The door is gone, so in I go. One window has a short bamboo-like curtain hanging from a rod. That will fill the bill of my needs and my nest’s style.  All of the furnishings that I’ve added I have either found after they were abandoned or are natural stuff that I’ve collected on the beach, in the desert, or as I was walking in a natural area.
    My computer work station is a former fish trap, my book case was once a cabbage crate, and now this curtain rod will be a remnant of someone’s dream of their life’s lodging here in Big Cypress from an era before the Park Service took over. It will fit well with the shells from Florida’s beaches, old nautical maps from the Keys, and cactus skeletons from Arizona. I brushed the curtain, constructed of plastic strands of bamboo, to remove any insect eggs and other debris, reinforce the fastener loops with fishing line, shorten the curtain to fit my picture window, and tie the dangling strings together with the same slip knots I use to secure my kayak to the top of my nest and bike to the back to help secure the curtain to the rod.
    The rod and curtain are experienced and will be a fitting addition to my nest for my Adventures. As is the cushion cover I found on Wisteria Island off Sunset Pier in Key West that has made a rug and a great addition, too. Along with the horseshoe I found in the desert near Aravaca, Az.; that’s over the door, pointing up so the luck doesn’t run out, and the wooden bird house I found lying in the street in Key West, that gave my camper its name. I dried the cushion cover in the sun for days to rid it from impurities, soil of time and removed all the corner lint collected over its former life in the sea. It is time-faded, weathered. I discarded the pillow which had absorbed more than I wanted to deal with.
    What kind of fish did the trap catch? Where did the shoe carry the horse? How many and what type of birds did the nest shelter? I know if my nature’s artifacts could talk, their tales would be so much better than mine! There’s still a place for more and I’ll be looking for them and will put them to good use.