But what’s lying ahead is a bit concerning: a family of wild boars foraging truffles right on my trail. I remember that boars can be aggressive and cause serious injuries with their tusks, especially a mother fearing for her offspring. But I also know that a boar, like any other wild animal, is not a troublemaker and would be more likely to escape given the opportunity. So as soon as they saw me, I stopped, made eye contact with the largest boar (I guess it was a mother) and waited. She stared at me for a second or two, grunted unhappily and jumped into the bushes on my right. The rest of the family followed. I moved cautiously, my knees still shaking. Little did I know that it would not be the last time I got an adrenaline surge that day. As I approached the place where the boar family had harvested nutritious mushrooms just a minute ago, I heard some rustle on my left. More boars? I trampled - more rustle. Trampled again the three tiny piglets swiftly crossed the trail to unite with their family.

I reached my final destination at twilight. I still had time to pitch my tent and appreciate the lovely campsite with an unlovely name, the Watering Hole, before everything would be covered in complete darkness. The site could easily fit a dozen medium-sized tents and had everything you would ever need in a backcountry: a good picnic table, a firepit with a grill grate, enough cut wood to spend a few hours by a bonfire, and of course - a complete solitude and the best views of the pond and Florida’s primeval forest.

As soon as I finished a stroopwafel with tomato juice from my connecting flight, I spotted a dog-size unknown animal that came to my campsite out of the woods. I genuinely freaked out, quickly pulled a branch from a pile of firewood, and jumped on the table. It definitely wasn’t a boar or a bear, didn’t have a furry tail like a coyote or a fox, and was probably too small for a panther. Or maybe it was one of those critically endangered native panthers? I had no idea which made me feel even more insecure. The animal was completely ignoring me and was going about its business as I was trying to guess what the hell it was. It didn’t even look at me and continued sniffing something in the grass. After I threatened it with a stick and my loud voice, it unhurriedly disappeared in the bushes and I never saw it again. The next morning, I learned from a park brochure that it was a bobcat, apparently a pretty widespread feral cat in Florida and completely harmless to people. Good kitty!

What else was hiding in the woods that night? I didn’t want to know, so I took my stick and went straight to my snug tent. The key is not to bring anything inside that smells like food, otherwise it can attract a curious and hungry animal. I hung my backpack on a branch of a pine tree nearby, a measure that would discourage most animals. Raccoons and bears could still make it though, but I had to hope for the best as I had no rope.

Those who ever camped know that a tent gives you a sense of protection. You can still hear every murmur or noise which is perfectly ok. What’s not ok is if something is scratching your tent from the outside. A mouse? A gecko? Or maybe a boar, an alligator or that creature I just saw? Whatever it was and however small it could have been, I smacked on my tent a few times and the strange scratching ceased. After about 10 minutes, I fell asleep like a baby as I was too tired to stay awake after my long journey from Canada and such memorable wildlife encounters.

What I experienced the next morning was well worth the hassle the night before a picture-perfect sunrise over a foggy pond. I didn’t see but could clearly imagine my neighbour-alligator laying on a forest glade at the opposite side of the pond, unable to move until he would soak up enough sun warmth. Unlike him, I was full of energy after eating another stroopwafel from my perfectly intact backpack and was ready to go on my next adventure. This time I was heading to the Deep Hole at Myakka River State Park, a place where dozens of alligators like to congregate and hunt.