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Writings From Charles Sobczak
 
Please, Not in Their Backyard

From a wild duck's perspective, dogs are a threat. The blue-winged teal recall the barking of trained retrievers soon after the shotgun blasts fade away on their long, tenuous journey to our "Sanctuary Island." For marsh rabbits, opossums, armadillos and otters, the scent of dog urine signals only one thing—stay clear. Once the marsh rabbits abandon the area, so follow their natural predators: bobcats, racoons and great horned owls. As habitat fragments, wildlife vanishes.

For us, dogs are indeed our best friends. For wildlife, dogs are predators. To even consider putting a dog park in a wildlife preserve is shameful. On a quiet, windless morning in March the sound of a multitude of barking dogs will carry for miles. The impact of this perceived "dog pack" will extend far beyond the 1.25 acre fenced area. Developing a dog park in a wildlife preserve will seriously jeopardize all the creatures now living in the Bailey Tract of Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuger.

Sanibel Island Realtor
To the Citizens of the City of Sanibel
Regarding the upcoming March 3rd, 2009 referendums.

Dear Fellow Sanibelians,

It is important to understand that we, the undersigned, as residents, dog owners and former dog owners, do not object to the establishment of a dog park on Sanibel. We do, however, strongly object to the location of this dog park within Sanibel Gardens Preserve, and to the dangerous precedent the approval of removing parcels from their environmentally protected status would set.

Sanibel Gardens Preserve lies just across Island Inn Road from a section of the Bailey Tract, which is part of the "Ding Darling" National Wildlife Refuge. The money used to purchase the 265 acres of the Sanibel Gardens Preserve was, in large part, funded by a special amendment, which was voted on and approved by the citizens of Sanibel in the early 1990s. The sole purpose and promise of that vote was to acquire these environmentally sensitive lands in perpetuity for native wildlife habitat. The restoration of this area from a choked forest of Australian pine and Brazilian pepper to its native and natural open habitat of wetlands was funded by special grants and matching funds in partnership with SCCF and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. …

Sanibel Island Realtor
The True Cost of Oil - September 11, 2008

No one likes pulling up to a gas station and paying almost four dollars a gallon. I don't care if you are a Republican, Democrat or Independent. It becomes especially painful when you learn that the oil companies selling you that gas are setting record-breaking profits quarter after quarter for the past two years. There is something unfair about being taken advantage of, something un-American.

But I find it fascinating when, in response to this problem, I hear fellow Floridians shifting their views on offshore drilling along Florida's Gulf coast. For the past twenty years I've always felt confident that the vast majority of Florida's citizens opposed opening up our shoreline to the oil barons, and now, sadly, I find all too many of them supporting it. The recent chant at the Republican National Convention in St. Paul says it all, "Drill, baby, drill."…

Sanibel Island Realtor
That Endless Road to Nowhere

The summer sun beat down on Florida that afternoon mid-September, just as it had the day before and will the day after. Nothing was out of place or out of the ordinary. Traffic was light, heading west toward Captiva along Sanibel and Captiva Road, just as the traffic heading the other direction was steady—house cleaners and tourists driving back into town. It was the heat of the day, roughly three-thirty in the afternoon when it happened.

Students Kevin Filiowich and Betty Roberts were heading toward Betty's parents home on Rabbit Road in their slightly tired Honda Civic. The air conditioning wasn't working, the tires needed replacing a few thousand miles ago. Two college kids in your typical college car heading home so Betty could study while Kevin went to work at Doc Fords Restaurant. …

Sanibel Island Realtor
The Silent Spring

For over a decade my wife, Molly, and I have walked the well-traveled paths of the Bailey Tract and, more recently, the Sanibel Gardens Preserve. Every spring, beginning in late March and ending in May, we've listened to the bellowing of the resident gators as they search for mates before the rainy season sets in. This spring is sadly silent.

Since shortly after Janie Melsek's tragic death in 2004, the City of Sanibel, in conjunction with a local alligator trapper, is slowly eradicating our island's indigenous alligator population. Over one hundred gators have been systematically sought out and killed. This new policy, in stark contrast to their former well-protected status, will ultimately result in the extinction of the alligator on Sanibel. …

Sanibel Island Realtor
All the Little Sugars

Over the past two years while attorneys and bureaucrats, appointees and environmental groups threatened lawsuits and screamed back and forth at each other, mother nature, as she often does, kindly intervened. A two year drought has given all of us living at the bottom of the Kissimmee River valleys drainage system a welcome break. There hasn't been any polluted water pouring down the C-43 Industrial Canal (formerly the Caloosahatchee River) not because of any real political change of heart, but because there simply hasn't been enough water to dump.

With the rainy season over for 2007, Lake Okeechobee's water level currently stands at 10 feet, 10 inches, some 5 feet below normal. By spring the Lake will probably hit historic lows and with any luck at all, mother nature will grant us another year of reprieve from our own nitrogen-based eco- madness. …

Sanibel Island Realtor
My Fathers' Hands

Half a decade has passed since my father died. He died in the fall. In the fall just as the last of the faded, yellowed leaves let go of the poplar and white birches of northern Wisconsin. He died at the hospital only a mile from his run down mobile home. He died poor but not penniless.

Stanley Sobczak had managed to live to be eighty. Those who knew him felt that such a feat was impossible. My father had smoked since he was eleven, drank, and drank heavy since his discharge from the Army after WWII, and survived more car wrecks than anyone I have ever known. Stan lived hard and every hour he walked this earth past the age of sixty was a mystery to those who knew him. …

Sanibel Island Realtor
 
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