Giving A Hoot

Giving a hoot
Environmental champions Jimmy Buffett and Carl Hiaasen hope their movie about a tiny owl will make a big impression on kids.

Roger Moore | Sentinel Movie Critic
Posted April 30, 2006

FORT LAUDERDALE BEACH -- When Jimmy Buffett was growing up in south Alabama, Florida meant "free orange juice at the state line," he says, "and ocean water so clear you could see all the way to the bottom."

He was used to the tannin-colored waters of Mobile Bay. But once the family station wagon reached Destin, "it was like arriving in paradise."

The singer-songwriter says that was the start of a lifelong Florida love affair -- Key West, "Margaritaville," the boats, beaches and bars of his ballads all came from those childhood trips.

The free orange juice is gone, Buffett says with a sigh. And so is that crystal-clear water that he fell in love with. But the man who has made his career as a walking-singing advertisement for "Floridays" isn't ready to turn his back on the place that made him.

"Deep down, I know there's a Florida worth fighting for," he says. Buffett takes that fight into the most lucrative concert tours in America, onto records, and into his philanthropy. And this week, he brings it to movie theaters.

That fighting attitude is shared by his friend Carl Hiaasen, acclaimed Miami Herald columnist and novelist. Where Buffett, the songwriting gypsy pirate, has romanticized the Sunshine State, Hiaasen, the muckraker, has made a career out of raging at runaway development, politicians in developers' hip pockets and the Florida that is being lost in the process.

"It's too easy to leave, to just throw up your hands and bail," Hiaasen says. "I stay and make myself miserable over what people are doing to this place. The point is to just keep up the fight."

"You remember how it used to be," Buffett says, "and what parts are still here worth saving, and you realize, 'Well, I may not change the guy with the bulldozer's mind. But I can get to his kid.' "

Hiaasen picked up on that for his first children's book, Hoot. When the Florida-native writer wrote a 2002 novel about Florida kids trying to save the state's rare burrowing owls, and the Florida-transplant entertainer-of-all-trades heard about it -- well, a movie had to be in the offing. Two of the state's environmental champions teamed to see if Hoot, Hiaasen's Newbery honored best-seller, could be a motion picture. For kids.

"Because the grown-ups are just too [messed] up to see it," Hiaasen says. "If your kids said to you, 'Dad, there's a gopher tortoise in the backyard. I'm gonna go bury him alive.' What would you say? The state of Florida says, 'If you're a developer, go ahead!'

"Kids have the clarity of youth. They know, 'That's wrong.' "

Career accomplishments aside, Buffett and Hiaasen are Florida environmental icons, "a perfect little snapshot of those few people outspoken and emotional about what's happening to wild Florida," says Bill Dion of the National Wildlife Federation. Their shared passions and values have made them friends -- fishing buddies -- for 20 years.

And in Hiaasen's novel, Buffett, an accomplished novelist himself, had the perfect weapon to reach more kids. Hoot opens in theaters across the country, including Florida, on Friday.

"I know people out in Hollywood," Buffett says. "I know, from experience, that most kids' movies you go to, you pray you fall asleep during them.

"I figured, this was a good story, it should be a movie. And as a shameless entertainer, I wanted to do it."

Like putting a band together

Hiaasen needed a little convincing. He has had "every novel I ever wrote" optioned to be a movie. Painfully so. Striptease actually became a film. And the rest, "from reading the scripts they came up with, I'm grateful they didn't film 'em," Hiaasen says.

But Buffett treated the project "like I was putting a band together." His friend, super-producer Frank Marshall (of the Indiana Jones franchise), came onboard. Another friend, comic-turned-director Wil Shriner, a veteran of TV's Frasier and other shows, would take a meeting.

"Got Wil on my seaplane, and we flew down to Carl's place in Islamorada," Buffett recalls. "Carl's son, Quinn, was out playing with the biggest set of toy construction equipment you ever saw. And Carl says, 'My wife's a Realtor. My son's gonna be a developer. How did this happen? I think we need to make this movie.' "

Just so long, Hiaasen says, "as the kids were like the kids in the book, Florida kids like the ones I knew growing up. I stole the whole plot from my childhood, from when friends and I would go out and move surveying stakes for developers that were about to bulldoze owl nests, or gopher tortoise holes."

Make the movie, Hiaasen said. Just "keep the owls."

Like minds

If, as the old saying goes, "success has a thousand fathers, but failure is an orphan," everybody involved with Hoot wants to take credit for those adorable owls. At a recent preview in Fort Lauderdale, the moment the 9-inch-tall, quarter-pound burrow-dwellers show up, the audience let out a reflexive "Awwwwwwww."

Hiaasen wrote the book around them. Shriner filmed some scenes with them for the movie. He says he realized, right off, "that we'd need more of the owls." Buffett says he was the one who insisted on that. And so does Hiaasen.

"Well, look at 'em," Buffett says. "I've lived here for 30 years, never saw one. And you thought manatees were cute."

Shriner, Buffett says, had a number of qualifications for being the right director for Hoot, including one only Buffett knew.

"He's from Florida," Buffett says. "He gets this!"

Shriner, 52, grew up in Fort Lauderdale, "taking a boat to school," he says. "You could jump in a canal and swim home, if you wanted to. Not today.

"When I was growing up, U.S. 441 was the end of town [Fort Lauderdale]," Shriner says. "Now, it sprawls almost all the way over to Naples. Carl, living in the Keys, has been a real champion of the environment we're destroying. Same with Jimmy, who does it with music. I wanted to get in on this."

Shriner describes Hiaasen, 53, as a Hoot character, the activist-in-training Mullet Fingers, "all grown up." And Buffett, 59, summed up his own idealism, and arrested development, in a song lyric years ago -- "I'm Growing Older, But Not Up."

Keeping it authentic

It took Buffett's decades in show business, his years of schmoozing with the Parrotheads (Buffett fans) who make movies, to get Hoot made. "Got turned down everywhere," he says. He fought the battles to find production money, and to keep the movie faithful to Hiaasen's book, "like I promised Carl I would do."

Then, once the production got under way, the Florida troubadour had to fight one last battle to get his songs -- original tunes, and covers of "Bare- footin'," "Werewolves of London," and "Wondering Where the Lions Are," and others onto the soundtrack.

"You think, 'Floridays,' about living in Florida, will work," chuckles Buffett, leaning back and looking off a beachfront hotel balcony at the sailboats, float planes and tourists who are his musical stock-in-trade. "They couldn't hear it. They did. Eventually."

Shriner's job was to re-create the Florida of his youth, "which you pretty much have to go to the Bahamas to do," he jokes. They filmed in Boca Grande; at the J.N. "Ding" Darling National Wildlife Refuge on Sanibel Island; in Silver Springs; and in Fort Lauderdale, "with the skyline, just out of view."

All, Shriner says, to keep Hoot Florida-authentic.

"That was what we wanted, to be faithful to Carl's book, and to kind of show the state as it used to be, and in some places, still is," Buffett says.

He shakes his head over the battles Floridians concerned with the environment still have to fight -- boaters whose bumper-stickers suggest a less-than-environmentally friendly attitude toward manatees, disappearing wetlands. It's the sort of stuff that makes Hiaasen mad, and Buffett ready for another fight.

"It seems obvious to me, and I know it's not that obvious to everybody else," Buffett says. "But a few of us get it.

"I know, from my own kids' experience, that attitudes can change. I'm so old, I was around before sunscreen. But my kids have SPF 45. They see things like race and the environment differently.

"So if we can't change some developer's mind about bulldozing Ramrod Key, maybe, with a movie like this, we can change his children's minds."

Roger Moore can be reached at 407-420-5369 or rmoore@orlandosentinel.com.

Saving Our Springs: Conservation is key in keeping the water flowing

Saving Our Springs
Conservation is key in keeping the water flowing
Elaine Aradillas | Orlando Sentinel Staff Writer
October 30, 2006

Some of Central Florida's springs may grow drier if the increasing human demand on the region's underground water supply continues.

In Rock and Wekiwa springs, which are surrounded by booming development in Orange and Seminole counties, flows are expected to decrease by close to 10 percent by 2025.


Relying less on water pumped from the ground -- something water managers are poised to do -- is a crucial step toward saving the state's springs.

"If the public doesn't care, we will lose our springs. That's the bottom line," said Jim Stevenson, former chairman of the Florida Springs Task Force.

More water pumped from the underground Floridan Aquifer to serve a growing population means less water is available for springs that feed rivers and serve as vital habitat for wildlife ranging from manatees and birds to snails.

Earlier this month, three water-management agencies banded together in an attempt to halt increases in the amount of water pumped from the imperiled aquifer after 2013 to avoid harm to springs, lakes and wetlands. The agencies hope utilities will begin using alternative water supplies, such as river water or desalting sea water.

"It's a balancing act," said Bill Graf spokesman for the South Florida Water Management District. "We're trying to provide [water] for all the new residents and trying to preserve what is traditionally Florida."

In recent years, spring flow has increased in many areas as the region emerges from a dry trend that has lingered for several decades. Still, some springs, such as Wekiwa and Rock, which are in a rapidly growing area, haven't rebounded as much as others.

"Our modeling to date has suggested the reason the numbers are down is because of development," said Hank Largin, spokesman for the St. Johns River Water Management District.

But he said development isn't the "definitive" explanation.

Pinpointing the cause of reduced spring flow is difficult because springs are affected by development, natural cycles of drought and rain and geology. Inside the aquifer, water in a complex labyrinth of crevices and caves moves at different speeds because of differences in pressure, and complex computer models must take these and other factors into account.

Water managers estimate about 7percent of spring flow can be sucked away by residents' water demands. And the effects of today's actions aren't visible in springs until years and sometimes decades later.

"What we're seeing now is the past," said Bill Osburn, a hydrologist at the St. Johns district who studies the springs. "If we change things now, it could be 20 to 60 years before we see a change in the springs."

Springs are endangered not only by reduced water flow but also by pollution -- ranging from fertilizers to pesticides. For example, in Wekiwa Springs, scientists have found nutrients are feeding algae that is choking out wildlife. The nearby Rock Springs is suffering from contaminants that leach from septic tanks.

Florida has about 700 springs across the central and northern regions; it's the largest concentration of freshwater springs on Earth. There are 17 state parks with springs that attract more than 2 million annual visitors and collect more than $107 million in revenue.

Kissengen Spring in Polk County once hosted thousands of visitors in its swimming hole supplied by 20 million gallons of water a day. But underground water withdrawals in the area increased, and by 1950, the spring dried up.

It's a part of Florida history that water managers don't want repeated.

In 2001, Gov. Jeb Bush created the Florida Springs Initiative to focus on spring health. So far the group has received about $15 million for conservation education and programs that enhance water quality, among other things.

Some money has been funneled toward Central Florida, including septic-tank removal at De Leon Springs in Volusia County and monitoring water discharge in Blue Spring near Orange City, where the spring flow amount affects manatees that use the warm waters as a winter refuge.

In Tallahassee, the Department of Environmental Protection is trying to encourage better management of storm water so it dumps fewer contaminants into springs and also is working with developers and landscapers to encourage them to install plants that use less fertilizer and water.

The Department of Transportation, which partnered with DEP, installed signs along the Wekiva River basin last year so motorists could comprehend the size of the springshed -- the underground area that contributes to the flow of springs that feed the river. Those springs are affected by rain and water withdrawals in a vast region that stretches across much of Orange and Seminole counties.

DEP spokeswoman Sarah Williams said educating the public is paramount.

Saving water saves the springs. That's why water-management districts have rules limiting lawn irrigation and county agencies have implemented programs to conserve water. Seminole County, for example, teaches water-wise irrigation techniques to developers and residents.

Ruth Hazard, coordinator for Seminole's water and sewer department, said residents tend to be receptive to learning about effective irrigation techniques that can lower their water bills.

But she said developers are still planting water-hungry lawns and plants.

"Developers want to mow down all the trees and plant St. Augustine," which is considered a wetland grass, Hazard said. She recommends using Bermuda or Zoysia grass, which can survive droughtlike conditions. She predicts landscaping that limits water usage -- called waterwise or drought-tolerant landscaping -- will become an effective tool in water conservation, especially inside the springs' watersheds.

"It's a change of behavior," she said. "We're trying to work with development review boards so that everyone is happy."

Elaine Aradillas can be reached at earadillas@orlandosentinel.com or 407-931-5940

Cities Trying To Rejuvenate Recycling Efforts

Cities trying to rejuvenate recycling efforts
10/27/2006 12:50 AM
By Dennis Cauchon, USA TODAY

(USA TODAY) -- A dead 150-pound Rottweiler. A disassembled pinball machine. A hamster inside a cage.

Those are some of the things the city of Fort Worth has found inside its big, new recycling containers.

"Some people are just dumb. Others do not care," says Maurice Spoons, who walks the recycling auditing beat, handing out $10 tickets to offenders.

Fort Worth is preparing to get tough by issuing $315 tickets to people who repeatedly put the wrong thing in recycling containers. "One mistake can send a truckload of material to the landfill," Spoons says.

Local governments are using financial incentives and penalties to try to re-energize the nation's recycling effort. Recycling boomed during the 1980s and early 1990s, driven by new government regulations and a fear that landfill sites were becoming scarce.

Today, landfills have plenty of capacity, interstate garbage shipments are routine and recycling has lost its buzz as a hot environmental issue. "It fell off America's radar," says Anjia Nicolaidis of the National Recycling Coalition, an advocacy group. "When you think environmentalism today, you think more about hybrid cars or global warming."

The economics of recycling it costs more to recycle than to dump at a landfill have been a constant threat to recycling programs. Waste management officials are trying to reverse that.

In November, Norfolk will have a two-week "Trash for Cash" program, a sort of instant lottery for recyclers. Some lucky households that produce a good, clean batch of recycled material will get $100 on the spot.

"The carrot usually works better than the stick," Norfolk recycling director John Deuel says.

More common are efforts to charge people based on the volume of garbage they produce.

Fort Worth took one of the most dramatic steps to promote recycling three years ago when it started charging based on the size of the garbage can parked at the curb. It costs $12.75 a month to have a 32-gallon trash can, $17.75 for a 64-gallon one and $22.75 for a 96-gallon container.

Portland, Ore., and many other cities that have high recycling rates charge more for garbage than recycling.

"How you price garbage makes a huge difference in how much recycling you do," says Brian Boerner, director of environmental management for Fort Worth.

When forced to pay for how much garbage they produced, Fort Worth residents started throwing more into the recycling bin. The portion of households recycling went from 21% to 85%, Boerner says. The amount of trash diverted from landfills went from 6% to 35%.

The city went from losing $600,000 a year to making $1 million because it is selling more recyclable material for reprocessing, Boerner says. Fort Worth would make another $1 million if people would stop ruining loads of recycling materials by dumping diapers, syringes, food scraps and other material into the containers.

That's why Fort Worth has the ticket-writing "Blue Crew," a team of six recycling cops walking the beat, sticking their gloved hands inside blue recycling carts. They travel in teams of two for safety. People are often not happy to see the city inspecting their recycling.

Spoons gets an unusual look at life in America by going through people's garbage. "It's kind of scary actually hooded masks, dead animals, syringes," he says. The dead Rottweiler died in an apparent dog fight. Recently, his problem has been more mundane: vacuum cleaner bags. "What are they thinking?" he asks. "Recycling isn't that hard to do."

The trend to big one-cart-takes-all recycling containers has made recycling more convenient. People can throw paper, bottles, jars and cans of all colors, shapes and sizes into the same bin.

"It fits with today's busy lifestyle," says James Chiles of the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency. "The question is: How much of this stuff actually gets recycled and how much goes to the landfill?"

The all-purpose recycle cart has increased volume but worsened the headache of contaminated loads of recyclable material. Most carts are dumped uninspected into automated recycling trucks.

"Local governments focus on collections but sometimes don't pay attention to what's going on at the manufacturer," says Susan Kinsella, executive director of Conservatree, a non-profit group that provides technical assistance to recyclers.

When consumers separate recycled items, about 3% doesn't get recycled, Kinsella says. When items are tossed in together, about 10%-14% ends up at the landfill.

Recycling costs about twice as much as dumping the material at a landfill, says Bucknell University environmental economist Thomas Kinnaman.

He says recycling doesn't make much economic or environmental sense, but it's so popular with some consumers that it's understandable why cities do it.

"Recycling is more like entertainment," says Kinnaman, who recycles. "People enjoy it because it makes them feel less guilty about their effect on the environment."

Nationwide, the amount of garbage collected for recycling is growing slowly, to 58.4 million tons last year. That's 24% of the nation's garbage, up from 22% in 2000 and 14% in 1990.

"We're recycling more and more," says Susan Anderson, director of Portland's Office of Sustainable Development, "but we're having a hard time keeping pace with the total amount of garbage produced from all the junk we buy."