On the morning of Saturday, August 26th, a group of runners set out to do a “long run” on the trails of Tiger Bay State Forest, just east of Deland. Around dawn, they drove through the open metal gate, parked their cars, and set out (depending upon the ability of the runner) for up to 90 minutes of heavy breathing.
At the end of the run, the headcount was two short of those who started, so the last two runners to finish waited, while the rest left. The concerned duo--hot, tired, and thirsty--looked forlornly up an empty trail while the torrid Florida sun steadily rose, and the heat and humidity gained in intensity.
Time passed; a half hour, then an hour, but no runners. What did eventually appear in the distance, however, was a white truck that was occupied, by, ahem Doc Holliday and Wyatt Earp. (I am using these well-known aliases in an attempt to protect the insensitive.) I will say that they were Officers of Agricultural Law, or “Ag-law,” to those on the in.
What transpired next was a convoluted conversation that went something like this: While the two runners were frantically trying to convince Doc and Wyatt to help locate their friends—who, for all they knew were either lost, snake-bit, or bear-food—the officers were after a two buck head tax.
It appears that, in the rather dim lighting of their arrival, the half-asleep runners were unaware that it costs $2 to use this part of Tiger Bay…but only this part. (Elsewhere, you just sign in.) Dressed in shorts, shoes and socks (no shirt, wallet, or money), they ran before they looked. Big trouble in this part of the territory, and D & W gave each of them a citation, and not the good kind. Being two bucks shy cost them, each, fifty-five smackeroos.
When they were done illustrating that justice is blind, D & W drove off into the rising sun. Later, when encountering the lost runners (heat exhaustion hanging above their heads like the Sword of Damocles), they didn’t offer them a ride, the chance to use a cell phone to call their friends, nor did the heroes in the white truck notify their anxious friends, who were still waiting, miles away; still hot, tired and even more thirsty, it now being nearly three hours after their adventure began.
Instead, the tree police pointed in one direction—“that away’s the park headquarters”—then the other—“that’s the way to International Speedway Blvd.,”—adding rather sardonically, “You’re runners, you can run.”
Eventually the runners were united, although the two who faithfully waited for their friends were disunited from a combined $110. And to add irony to insensibility, all this occurred on a day advertised as “Partners in Time,” where, “Celebrating 75 years of the state forest system, the Florida Forest Service is inviting local residents to come and see a forest this Saturday.” (According to an article in the August 25, 2011 Daytona Beach News Journal.)
All this goes to prove that, while there are actually no tigers in the State Forest, there are at least two predators.