It’s February in the West Volusia outdoors, and the biggest game in town is manatees. Rightfully so. Manatees represent a sizable draw to our area, bringing much-needed river tourism that had otherwise waned. Besides, they’re adorable creatures.

I’ve interacted with manatees for as long as I’ve been a Floridian. A sea cow (another name for manatees) greeted me on my inaugural fishing trip before the moving truck was even unpacked. It’s not uncommon to share the water with manatees all year long, though numbers certainly peak in winter.

A manatee migration occurs annually to Blue Spring, our local thermal refuge that keeps these tropical creatures comfortable. DeLeon Springs grabs the attention of a few manatees, too, as do key locations throughout our basin that likely house upwellings.

In any case, if you spend much time on the St. Johns River in the upcoming weeks, you’re almost certain to spot a manatee.

Our local population belongs to the West Indian group, specifically the Florida manatee subspecies. Today, an estimated 8,300 animals exist, up from 1,800 or so in the early 1990s.

Manatees are, in fact, native to Florida. Like many things improperly labeled “West Indian” by turned-around Spaniards, manatees were here when Columbus hit the shore. Of nine known pre-Colombian fossil sites, two were unearthed very near our area, suggesting St. Johns River ties for centuries.

More recently, reports of manatees in very early Florida newspapers (1900-10) show Volusia County with the highest number of sightings.

Manatee fossils, in fact, date back more than 12,000 years for our current species, and more than 100,000 years for their ancestors. In general, though, the manatee population seems to have climbed significantly throughout the modern industrial period. Many point to additional man-made thermal refuges, like power-plant discharges, as the reason.

Without question, measures to ensure protection of these creatures are responsible for our current boom. Older Volusians tell how the presence of more than a couple of manatees in Blue Spring was cause for an announcement just a generation ago. More recently, by comparison, the same locale housed more than 1,000.

In 1981, Florida Gov. Bob Graham joined Jimmy Buffett to form the Save the Manatee organization, our area’s biggest advocacy group. Graham’s list of environmental accomplishments during his time as governor was robust, including protective policies for wetlands, rivers and the Everglades. Buffett, of course, allowed for exposure like few others.

Today, outreach continues to be robust with Save the Manatee, giving them the ability to make real progress in policies that support the proliferation of this species. The public’s affinity for manatees helps. It’s far easier to get support for manatee issues than those for, say, snakes or a fish. But each plays an important role in our river’s ecosystem.

All of these variables, from population expansion to protection to exposure, have led us to where we are now, the undisputed manatee capital of inland Florida. Sure, other places can claim big numbers, but how many have manatees that travel for days on end to a central location just 50 miles from Disney World? Come on…

You’ll recognize the uniqueness of our fortune when attempting to access Blue Spring State Park on a winter weekend. There, a line at the gate starts early, as park capacity is all but assured.

So, what’s the downside? For starters, many turn to speed zones as an example of the sea cows crimping our style. The St. Johns River is, by comparison, a waterway with an awful lot of moderate speed and idle zones thanks to a big, slow animal. I know it’s a hard pill to swallow for some, but I’ve never minded it. Show me a healthy river with a robust population of manatees and game fish, and I’ll show you a tourist draw no matter what the speed limit is. Manatees are part of our outdoors in West Volusia, in fact, part of our culture.

There’s more to consider, however. All of these manatees certainly have an environmental impact that’s rarely addressed, but needs to be to ensure we can continue to move toward a healthier St. Johns River. First off, waste products from thousands of massive herbivores certainly impact nutrient levels in the river, something we don’t need any help with. Hey, don’t blame the manatees. They’re just going about their day, but I wonder if this has been studied.

Secondly, and even more importantly, are the considerations of manatee diets. This has been an issue in other parts of Florida due to vegetation loss — a trending environmental fallout that’s impacting areas all over the state. Unfortunately, we are no longer protected from this situation, as nearly all of the seagrass throughout the St. Johns River has been lost.

Our manatee population turns, instead, to the floating plants you still see prevalent on the river. Those same plants, though, continue to be decimated by state and federal practices using pesticides, whether the manatees like it or not. These archaic policies are badly in need of a revisit.

A little research on this subject recently took me to areas near Blue Spring, where I watched and photographed a group of manatees dining on floating pennywort and water lettuce. The half-dozen giants were safe, for the day, from any regulatory worries.

Luckily, I had a fishing rod on board. When the work was done, dipping a small jig around the same plants yielded a half-dozen speckled perch for dinner.

Breaching for air, I heard a nearby manatee expel a signature “whoosh.” A limpkin screamed, and a woodpecker drummed in the distance. It’s again a perfect evening on the St. Johns, surrounded by friends. I hope I see you out there.