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South Florida is criss-crossed by canals. They serve as drainage for the Everglades. The water is dark and murky and ultimately flows out to the Atlantic. The canals also support a very rich and wide range of wildlife, everything from birds to fish to alligators. The canals do not flow directly into each other but are connected through pipes or water stations that control the rate of water flow. This kind of artificial segregation and controlled connectivity leads to one of the most interesting aspects to these canals. That is each one has its own character. One canal might be a bass fisherman's dream while the canal directly across the street may be strangely barren of fish no matter what type of bait or lures are presented. Some canals are large and expansive with fast moving water, while others are narrow, slow moving and overgrown with vegetation. But all are related in their purpose of serving as drainage channels for the Everglades.
During my middle and high-school years I lived in a suburb of Fort Lauderdale, Florida where the nearest canal was just a few feet from my bedroom window. Other canals were just a short walk or bike ride away. In this environment, I - along with many of my friends - became an enthusiastic sport fisherman angling for everything from large-mouth bass, sunfish, tarpon, catfish and anything else that would bite at my lure. I knew all the good spots and spent at least some time almost everyday for several years with a lure in the water.
The canal that was adjacent to where I lived aligned north-south and connected one of the large, fast flowing east-west canals to a series of smaller canals deeper within the suburbs. These smaller canals were always rich with fish and is where I usually spent my time fishing. However, the canal closest to me was an instance of a canal where no fish would ever bite. And it wasn't just me. None of my friends ever had any luck there either. It was also a canal where those people who fished for food could also never be found. In short, there was something seemingly barren about it. Or so it seemed. On closer inspection, there was indeed plenty of aquatic life. There were both hard and soft shelled turtles. There were minnows. There were snakes. Every once in a while I also visually identified bass near the edge of the water. But no one ever caught a fish there.
There was also one other very interesting and unique thing about this canal. There was some kind of aquatic creature that would swim to the surface, make a small splash or pop and then immediately descend as quickly as it had ascended. It appeared as though the creatures were either coming up for a quick nip of oxygen or feeding off of the mosquito larva or other insects that populated the surface. Often it seemed as though there was a large concentrated population of them. That is the majority of the activity would always occur in a relatively small area. This activity also occurred most any time of the day. Given the murkiness of the water, the only visual clue I ever got was a very quick flash of something wriggling that reflected a golden sheen. But even with my visual acuity in those days, the creatures moved so fast that I could not ever come close to visually identifying them. I considered nets or some other means of identifying them, such as actually diving into the canal with snorkeling equipment. But this was all before I had a job and when I had only a small allowance to spend. So I couldn't afford a net and the thought of actually snorkeling in that murky water with snakes and known parasites was not something I ever seriously considered putting into action.
With all of this I am not suggesting that these creatures are cryptids in the sense of Bigfoot, Nessie or the like. But they certainly are cryptids in a strict sense, much like some aircraft that one cannot conclusively identify is in a strict sense an unidentified flying object.
So to this day, I - nor anyone else I knew at the time - have no certain idea of what these creatures were. Having frequented for several years a wide variety of canals within approximately a two mile radius from where I lived, I can conclusively say that this aquatic activity was unique to one end of a specific canal, for I saw it nowhere else despite always looking for it. I can also make a somewhat educated guess that these creatures were tadpoles or some type of salamander, such as the mudpuppy. It is also plausible that they were some type of exotic, non-native amphibian or fish released into the water. But I have no evidence beyond what I have described for any of these theories.
Thirty years later I made a trip to those old stomping grounds. I specifically visited that very canal just to see if those creatures were still there. The water was as murky and stagnant as ever. But there were no splashes, pops or maddeningly brief glimpses of wriggling, golden bodies to give that canal the mystery and peculiar character that had been its own. To this day I have no idea of what those things were and I probably never will. But that is the closest I have to a "cryptid" story.
During my middle and high-school years I lived in a suburb of Fort Lauderdale, Florida where the nearest canal was just a few feet from my bedroom window. Other canals were just a short walk or bike ride away. In this environment, I - along with many of my friends - became an enthusiastic sport fisherman angling for everything from large-mouth bass, sunfish, tarpon, catfish and anything else that would bite at my lure. I knew all the good spots and spent at least some time almost everyday for several years with a lure in the water.
The canal that was adjacent to where I lived aligned north-south and connected one of the large, fast flowing east-west canals to a series of smaller canals deeper within the suburbs. These smaller canals were always rich with fish and is where I usually spent my time fishing. However, the canal closest to me was an instance of a canal where no fish would ever bite. And it wasn't just me. None of my friends ever had any luck there either. It was also a canal where those people who fished for food could also never be found. In short, there was something seemingly barren about it. Or so it seemed. On closer inspection, there was indeed plenty of aquatic life. There were both hard and soft shelled turtles. There were minnows. There were snakes. Every once in a while I also visually identified bass near the edge of the water. But no one ever caught a fish there.
There was also one other very interesting and unique thing about this canal. There was some kind of aquatic creature that would swim to the surface, make a small splash or pop and then immediately descend as quickly as it had ascended. It appeared as though the creatures were either coming up for a quick nip of oxygen or feeding off of the mosquito larva or other insects that populated the surface. Often it seemed as though there was a large concentrated population of them. That is the majority of the activity would always occur in a relatively small area. This activity also occurred most any time of the day. Given the murkiness of the water, the only visual clue I ever got was a very quick flash of something wriggling that reflected a golden sheen. But even with my visual acuity in those days, the creatures moved so fast that I could not ever come close to visually identifying them. I considered nets or some other means of identifying them, such as actually diving into the canal with snorkeling equipment. But this was all before I had a job and when I had only a small allowance to spend. So I couldn't afford a net and the thought of actually snorkeling in that murky water with snakes and known parasites was not something I ever seriously considered putting into action.
With all of this I am not suggesting that these creatures are cryptids in the sense of Bigfoot, Nessie or the like. But they certainly are cryptids in a strict sense, much like some aircraft that one cannot conclusively identify is in a strict sense an unidentified flying object.
So to this day, I - nor anyone else I knew at the time - have no certain idea of what these creatures were. Having frequented for several years a wide variety of canals within approximately a two mile radius from where I lived, I can conclusively say that this aquatic activity was unique to one end of a specific canal, for I saw it nowhere else despite always looking for it. I can also make a somewhat educated guess that these creatures were tadpoles or some type of salamander, such as the mudpuppy. It is also plausible that they were some type of exotic, non-native amphibian or fish released into the water. But I have no evidence beyond what I have described for any of these theories.
Thirty years later I made a trip to those old stomping grounds. I specifically visited that very canal just to see if those creatures were still there. The water was as murky and stagnant as ever. But there were no splashes, pops or maddeningly brief glimpses of wriggling, golden bodies to give that canal the mystery and peculiar character that had been its own. To this day I have no idea of what those things were and I probably never will. But that is the closest I have to a "cryptid" story.
