In the not too distant past, I sat around with some friends debating what to do on New Year's Eve. After the usual discussion about where to go and all the drunk drivers, we settled on a road trip.

Spending some time relaxing - with no schedules and no deadlines - was too tempting to ignore. We chose something rather nontraditional: snorkeling with manatees. Ringing in the New Year on a Crystal River photo safari sounded great to a couple of photographers. Snap a few pictures, drink a little bubbly and pet some endangered manatees before they all disappear. And with the holidays approaching, we thought, the sightseeing crowds should be at a minimum. We planned to spend a week photographing manatees and other wildlife in Central Florida. When we arrived, the dive shop workers handed us a map and showed us where the manatees congregate. This was going to be simple. After watching a 20-minute video on the laws and regulations regarding interacting with the West Indian Manatee, we were ready. We followed the map to the recommended site. Numerous manatees hang out in Crystal River during the winter to take advantage of the warmer inland waters and springs. Because Central Florida was in the midst of a cold spell, the low temperatures made it perfect for spotting sea cows. The forecasted overnight freeze warnings were not enough to deter us from the task before us. The thrill of the hunt would keep us warm! > Nothing could have prepared us for the site we encountered when we rounded the last bend on the river: Dozens of vessels, including pontoon boats and other rental vessels similar to our own, littered the waterway before us. The masses had already converged at this spot. Undaunted, we moved on. At site after site we discovered the same scene. It started getting cold. We decided to head back, try again tomorrow and get an early morning start.

The next day was even colder. We arrived at our destination as the sun was inching its way over the horizon. Steam hung above the water. The silence was broken occasionally by the sounds of mother manatees and their calves breathing at the surface. It was a perfect morning.

We slipped into the water as quietly as possible, which is somewhat difficult when the air temperature is 36 degrees. None of that mattered. The hunt was on. The dive shop hadn't steered us wrong. There were a dozen or more manatees in the area it suggested. Our camera strobes started flashing, breaking the serenity of the quiet morning. The manatees did not seem to mind if a head or tummy scratching followed each picture. It was a reward for their cooperation. As our time with these mammals ticked by, there was more and more tummy scratching and less and less picture taking going on. These river puppy dogs were now taking turns getting their heads, backs and bellies rubbed. Manatees are not the prettiest creatures on earth, but they make up for it with charm and personality. We soon started giving them names, such as "Freckles" and "Baby." It didn't take long to fall for them. They had us. It isn't long before you notice the prop marks on the adult manatees' backs and wonder when the same scars will appear on the younger ones. Suddenly the concerns about manatees becoming extinct start to become a thought that will not leave your mind. For those who have not seen or interacted with these awesome creatures, the tragedy is difficult to fathom. However, one encounter brings with it the revelation and importance of taking whatever steps are necessary to help keep manatees around forever. After an hour or so, other boats start to arrive. Hoards of snorkelers were coming and the manatees knew it. To avoid kicks in the face by the growing number of fins at the surface, they started to retreat to their deeper sanctuaries. The visitors weren't being mean, but it's hard not to feel sorry for the manatees who befriended us just 15 minutes earlier. It was time to leave. Over the next few days, we followed a similar timetable. By 9 o'clock our time with the manatees ended as the crowds arrived. Each morning the feeling of concern would grow more and more with the arrival of every new boatload of sightseers.

The last day of our trip arrived. We kept our routine the same. On that day the manatees were particularly attentive, posing for our cameras and bowing their heads in front of us to accept their standard modeling fee - a scratch. Within an hour, the photography session was finished. All that remained was head and tummy scratching. I found a rock near the head spring and sat down with my back to the strong oncoming current. The manatees seemed to know my intentions and started coming over to me. It was a perfect spot to observe all the activity and offer a good-bye rub or two. The larger manatees had no problem resisting against the current. One of the smaller ones, Freckles, wasn't faring quite as well. At one point during the struggle to fight the current, she started using my leg to anchor herself and hold on. I observed the baby manatee struggling and offered my hand for additional support.  Surprisingly, she let me hold her flipper and relaxed. She bowed her head and looked up at me occasionally, as if urging me not to let her go. My moment with this great animal could have lasted all day, but it was 9 a.m. The noisy and less than graceful crowds were starting to arrive. We departed. Everyone should experience the charm and awkward grace of these mammals. Maybe it's time, however, for us to let go of the idea of getting so close to these creatures.  Give the manatees some space or - at the very least - treat them and their home with more care and respect. In the future - should the last manatee disappear from Florida - the thought of us reflecting back on what caused their extinction would be hard to live with.