Pat’s Wildways: Tooth seekers, look around you!

One Sunday not long ago, I got to Fort Clinch State Park early one morning to walk on the beach near the fort. It was low tide, and I had to get to the west inlet parking area beside the fort before avid fossilized shark teeth hunters filled all the spots. The pursuit of shark teeth has become a well-publicized activity for many visitors who can easily find out that “the jetties behind Fort Clinch are the best place to find teeth at low tide.” A number of Facebook groups feed this passion. And the parking areas and stretch of beach behind the fort get busy.

On this morning there were, as expected, a few groups of tooth hunters. Some were equipped with brand new shiny “tooth-collecting poles” that they bought at Ace Hardware so that they wouldn’t have to stoop down to investigate the fragments they find.  On an Amelia Island cruise not long ago, from the water view, this beach area looks like the saddest beach on earth with everyone looking downwards. But one group had a different idea. They disregarded the signage that said dangerous currents made swimming here unsafe, and let their kids go out into the water to scramble around for teeth on the bottom.

Yes, all kinds of people were engaged in shark tooth hunting. But it seemed like no one looked up from their dedicated task. Those people I quizzed had found basically nothing, no matter how long and hard they searched.  Gone are the days when my friends and I could find handfuls of fossilized shark teeth in no time at all. That time has passed.

But I was on the beach that day for a different reason: nature and exercise. Whenever I go to the beach I always notice something interesting and different. This time was no exception. My morning started perfectly with the sight of a sleek doe grazing beyond the fort, illuminated in the morning light. Beautiful. Along the beach, I watched a willet seeking its breakfast. Then instead of continuing walking along the wrack line and low tide area where the tooth hunters were focused, I wandered higher up the beach along a road carved out from many passes of security and turtle watch ATVs. It was an entirely different view of this area that I’m sure many tooth hunters never noticed.

The dunes along the beach east of the fort are marvels of nature. These high dunes provide substrate for large cedar trees and various shrubs and smaller trees that tower above the beach and shelter deer, coyotes, and other wildlife. Along the edge of the dunes gopher tortoise burrows sheltered these large terrestrial chelonians, very different than the sea turtles that sometimes deposit their eggs along the beach. Some of the deer trails up the dunes have been established for years, well before the ATV tracks created their own trail paralleling the beach. This habitat intrigued me, so I walked through the underbrush to look more closely at the plants, mostly desert-adapted with thorns and prickles. And soon enough, I got tangled up in a patch of sandburs and my socks and shoes got covered with burs. Oh no. But nearby was my favorite bench to sit on where I could relax and extricate myself from this scratchy discomfort.  This bench has deep memories for me. As I sat there, scraping the burs off my shoes and socks with a catspaw oyster shell, my thoughts were swamped with visions of Jean Taylor. She and I were friends for years and shared many beach walks, swims and other adventure around the state. When she was gradually dying from a blood cancer and losing her vigor, we still hung out together. In her last days, when she needed help to get into my car and out again, we would park in the handicapped place and slowly walk to this bench with me supporting her. And for a few minutes there on the bench we could marvel at the wild horses we could see on Cumberland Island. We could trade stories about our friends and escapades. And we could forget that she was dying.

I feel a bit sorry for all those avid shark teeth hunters who now come away mostly empty-handed and never looked up to marvel at the horses on Cumberland Island or the deer in the dunes. But at least they are outdoors.  And that is something.

Pat Foster-Turley, Ph.D., is a zoologist on Amelia Island. She welcomes your nature questions and observations. patandbucko@yahoo.com.