Christine Thomas

I have listened to the audio version of almost all the Doc Ford novels. The protagonist is the main character in a host of colorful characters that have populated 27 novels about an American operative who works for a government agency that “doesn’t exist,” in the guise of a marine biologist whose lab is on Sanibel Island.

I know from the nice notes I get that some of my readers enjoy the little cabin crew Florida adventures when I write about them. Many have experienced the area at some time in their lives and appreciate the references to places they have been.
I did not write about Florida in the year of the aftermath of Hurricane Ian. This story is hard for me to tell.

“What do you hope to see at Ding Darling National Wildlife Refuge this week?” my daughter, Shannon, asked. “I am hoping to see wood storks.”
“Spoonbills,” I chimed in.
“Gators,” my husband, Stan said, predictably. Never mind that we had only ever seen one alligator in our many years of going.

“I could bet you that I can set a trap for a coyote and predict which foot I can catch him by,” challenged Roy Sebald with a twinkle in his eye. “I have won that bet many times.”
I met Roy Sebald for the first time in January 1990. I did not know it at the time, but Roy, at 70 years old, was a world class conservationist in the style of the many Wisconsin conservation greats.

“Something is wrong with Major,” Stan warned.
This set off alarm bells. Stan, my husband, was right. He had just fed him supper, which our Airedale, Major, normally teases for. Instead, he just laid on the kitchen floor, staring off into space. This was the Monday after deer season. Major and I had spent the afternoon running errands.