An excerpt from naturalist Bradford Torrey's 1894 book, A Florida Sketch-Book:

Thursday, 2:20 PM - Trying not to disturb the exhilarating, tense moment, I whispered to my daughter Amanda in a low voice, "Momma gator has to be here somewhere." Sure enough, in the midst of the dozen or more colorful babies, her eyes peered at us attentively from between the abundant swamp vegetation; her body completely submerged. We daringly pressed in a little closer. Cute little chirps arose from a few of the babies. Mom tolerated our approach for only about thirty seconds before swiftly swimming directly toward us and emitting a forceful release of air.

Sitting in the front of the canoe just a few feet from this upset maternal guardian, I knew what was “safe”, and what was not. This was bordering on “unsafe”, and, in fact, a bit foolish. While most gators predictably retreat or submerge upon approach, a mother gator is quite courageous and assiduous in defending her young against onlookers.
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I let wisdom prevail and we backed out the canoe a bit, took a few more photos, and paddled onward. 

​In 1894, naturalist and ornithologist Bradford Torrey wrote of the Great Egret in his book, A Florida Sketch-Book. 

“Incomparably the handsomest member of the heron family (I speak of such as I saw) was the great white egret. In truth, the epithet 'handsome' seems almost a vulgarism as applied to a creature so superb, so utterly and transcendently splendid. I saw it—in a way to be sure of it—only once. Two birds stood in the dead tops of low shrubby trees, fully exposed in the most favorable of lights, their long dorsal trains drooping behind them and swaying gently in the wind. I had never seen anything so magnificent. The reader should understand that this egret is between four and five feet in length, and measures nearly five feet from wing tip to wing tip, and that its plumage throughout is of spotless white. It is pitiful to think how constantly a bird of that size and color must be in danger of its life.”

​Excerpt from The Last Remaining Indian in the Okefenokee Swamp, by Tommy Hartley. 

​Excerpt from the 1926 History of the Okefenokee Swamp by AS McQueen and Hamp Mizell:

Wednesday, March 11, 2015, 7:20 AM - It is always pleasant waking within a tent to the natural, gradual illumination of breaking dawn. The woods were vocal, but not overdone. The melodies of a few birds were accompanied by the pleasant percussion of a Pileated Woodpecker. Breakfast consisted of freeze-dried scrambled eggs (which taste much better than they sound), oatmeal bars, and a cup of coffee (hot cocoa for Amanda). We headed to the ranger station for a 1.5 hour boat tour guided by Jeremy, Park Manager in-training, and a rather talkative woman from Jasper, Florida, along with her daughter.

The boat slowly moved up the canal until reaching a larger waterway, Billy’s Lake, which stretches about 1.5 miles to the left and right. On the corner of the canal at the entry to the lake sat two very large gators as if gatekeepers to the swamp. These impressive guardians were quite formidable and made it clear whose domain was the swamp. As we glided along the edges of Billy’s Lake, at every bend and upon every prominent log lay basking an impressive sentinel. They ruled the edges of the water. Our guide pushed the pontoon boat into one cove where sat eight alligators, half out of the water upon floating vegetation.

An excerpt from William Bartram's Travels, published in 1791:

Even in our modern age of campgrounds, well-marked canoe trails, and handheld GPS, the Okefenokee Swamp can still become a bit eerie to the unaccustomed traveler, especially at night. I can only imagine those first white explorers of the 1800's tasked with surveying this great swampland. Here follows an excerpt published in the Oglethorpe Echo newspaper in December 1889:

Found throughout the United States, the Double-crested Cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus) is one of the common waterbirds found in the Okefenokee National Refuge throughout most of the year. These somewhat goofy acting birds can be seen milling about on bare cypress trees and snags over the open spaces of the swamp.

With feathers that are not water repellent, most of their body typically sinks below the water’s surface as they fish and dive. Afterwards, while roosting upon a limb, they spread their wings to dry them in the sun.
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Because of their color, size and behavior, they are often confused with the Anhinga. But the cormorant's bill is shorter and hooked at the end, unlike the long spear-like bill of the Anhinga. And while it is just my opinion, they seem less graceful than the sleek Anhinga. 

Wednesday, 3:30 PM - After our hike on Billy’s Island, we rowed back toward the Stephen C Foster State Park campground. Even though it was early spring, the sun was still high and bright. It became quite hot sitting in the open sun of the canoe. Our throats became parched as we toiled at the oars, for we had finished all of our water while hiking on Billy's Island. 

When confined to a canoe, there is no escaping the heat of the sun, especially if out on one of the lakes or open prairies so common in the Okefenokee. I made a mental note (and later added it to my packing checklist) to bring plenty of water and sunscreen on future excursions. Even though surrounded by water, we thirsted. I have read that the tanin-stained waters are a bit bitter possibly contaminated with protozoa and bacteria. 

As we contineud to toil across Billy's Lake toward "home", the heat had sequestered most of the wildlife out of sight into the shade of the cypress trees. In the hotter afternoons, most of the alligators lay fully or partially submerged in the cool waters and the photography opportunities are fewer. However, we cruised past a few gators and a fishing Cormorant. Being insufficiently cooled only by our own sweat, we were a bit jealous as we watched the Cormorant dive and swim in the cool, refreshing waters. 

Thankfully, Hamp Mizell's words were prophetic in this passage from the 1926 book, History of the Okefenokee Swamp, when he wrote of the restoration of the Okefenokee after the intense stripping of the timber from the entire area: