Category: MANATEES

Hello Again

Hello Again

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manatee
Hello my friend!

Today I went on a search for a friend I met two years ago. He was a tiny tot back then, all round and chubby with cute little whiskers and eyes that seemed to peer into my soul. He chewed on my underwater camera housing, sucked on my hair as it floated in the water and photo bombed every other shot I took of manatees that were around us. I have shared his video and photographs with school children and adults and have shared the serious plight of the West Indian manatee with those who would listen.

I put my board in King’s Bay and paddled around until I got my bearings. After several false starts (paddling into canals with dead ends) and hiding from the ferocious wind, I noticed the bridge. I headed with a crosswind to the bridge and up the canal. And sure enough, found Three Sisters Springs.

As I navigated the narrow channel into the springs, I saw layers of manatees resting on the bottom. When I arrived at the open area of crystal clear springs, I allowed my board to float and simply quieted my mind and waited.

I could hear the sharp exhalations all around me as they surfaced to breathe. And finally, my little friend found me.

"Can I catch a ride on this cool board?"
“Can I catch a ride on this cool board?”

He was somewhat shy at first and then took his time to explore my paddle board. He swam under it, nosed the fin, nosed the nose, balanced it on his broadened back. My buddy and I were connecting once again.

Last time I was here I was snorkeling in a dry suit and he explored every inch of it as I lay flat on the water, video housing stretched out in front of me. He sucked my hair and even tried to nurse under my arm (where babies nurse on their moms).

"Hello again, Simone. Did you say all the third graders at Gulf Shores school know me?""
“Hello again, Simone. Did you say all the third graders at Gulf Shores school know me?””

He has grown significantly in two years. I saw a mom and small baby nursing and a few other small ones asleep on the bottom. But my buddy and I….well….let’s just say he now knows he is a rock star with third graders from Gulf Shores Elementary School and he’s not surprised. He is, after all, the most delightful manatee I’ve ever known.

"Hello little one! Good to see you again!!"
“Hello little one! Good to see you again!!”

I wonder if he understands there are less than 5000 of his kind left on the planet. Or if he wonders if the propeller scars on his friends back will heal. Most likely he’s just grooving on being an adolescent manatee full of curiosity and life.

My heart is joyful as I await two mornings of snorkeling with these delightful and beautiful beings. Dreaming manatee dreams.

Green to Blue

Green to Blue

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A few weeks ago I began to realize that I was leaving the mountains of western North Carolina. I mean really realize that my time here was growing short. As I explored my connection to the land, pulling on one thread of the tapestry of my life unraveled awareness that has helped me understand and prepare for the leap to big water.

About that same time, a friend of mine was having an art opening in downtown Asheville so I decided to attend. The night of the gallery reception I was chatting with my artist friend and a friend of his walked up with a musical instrument case. There was a Celtic music event around the corner at Firestorm Books that started in about an hour. It gave me time to walk next door and eat at Tupelo Honey, one of my favorite Asheville restaurants.

It was a small venue but the music….the MUSIC! Only in Asheville, I thought. One duo sang a song that touched the heart of my grief and almost perfectly described my move from mountains to shore. A few of the lyrics are below (here’s a link if you’d like to listen).

Don’t turn to the green hills of Antrim
Fermanagh’s behind you, it’s time to move on.
Look onwards to Glasgow, and all your tomorrows
The future lies there, and it’s waiting for you.
As the green crosses over to meet with the blue.

If the wings of the eagle could carry you over
To the lands of the prairie, then surely you’d fly
But an ocean so wide, and a distant country
So far from your own land is no place to die.

So don’t turn to look on the green hills of Antrim
Fermanagh’s behind you, it’s time to move on.
Look onwards to Glasgow, and all your tomorrows
The future lies there, and it’s waiting for you.
As the green crosses over, as the green crosses over,
To meet with the blue.

One morning as I approached my favorite view from the mountain, the green valley below unfolded surrounded by towering mountains that arose from the far side. The words from the chorus came singing through my soul: As the green crosses over to meet with the blue. And I thought of the Irish and Scottish people who were the first white settlers in this area and how they must have loved this land for it looks so similar to many places from their home countries. Then I thought about my own heritage and connection to Cornwall and the beauty of green hills stopping at the blue ocean and knew in that moment that my soul was calling me back to big water, to blue water. And I knew peace.

I am not sure what work will unfold for me along the Gulf Coast, but with everything I know and am, it is the exact right next step for my path, for me. Being land-locked for almost 20 years has served a purpose and now it’s time to go home.

My heart is big enough to love both mountains and ocean yet I have a strong desire to help the Ocean and all creatures who live in and around it. It’s geographically challenging to do that from 2300 feet above sea level, perched on the side of a mountain. I want to feel the sand between my toes, breathe the salt air and plant my roots once again in more southern latitudes where the vast expanse of the Gulf of Mexico calls me to my life’s work.

I won’t turn to look back on the green mountains, Asheville’s behind me, it’s time to move on. I look onwards to the Gulf and all my tomorrows, the future lies there, and it’s waiting for me. As the green crosses over to meet with the blue.

I launch April 3rd….it’s time to move on.

Manatees

Manatees

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As I floated horizontal, on the surface of the water, I saw a mother and baby manatee in the distance. I remained motionless, hovering quietly, with my hands on either side of my video housing. I watched in amazement as they swam toward me. Could they be coming to me? Yes. They swam under me, rubbing their backs against my belly. Still, I remained motionless. No touching, nothing but giggles coming from my snorkel. Then a circle and the mother hovered to my side while the baby continued investigating my dry suit, my face, my hair, my fins. Finally, with no shyness whatsoever, the baby manatee kissed me on the mouth. Maybe it was my snorkel she liked or maybe the high-pitched sounds I was emitting (squeals of delight). It doesn’t matter why the baby chose to interact with me, I feel so blessed that she did.

Why such a feeling of blessing when I have had so many incredible encounters with animals in the oceans or on land? How could this be so special? As my heart was opening wider and wider while the baby was playing with my snorkel, my dry suit, my fins, I thought of the rarity of contact with such an endangered species. Estimates suggest that there are 5000 of this species of manatee left on the planet. What a wondrous moment then to have one learning about humans through me. I was an ambassador for my species. I wanted to show the best of what humans can be by showing respect, being quiet, not touching or feeling greater-than, but rather surrendering to the moment of play this precious one wanted to experience with me.

The ports on my housings provided the most intrigue for my friends…every manatee that chose to interact with me always approached my camera housing port. Some would put their eye up to it, turn around and place their other eye in front of it. They might nuzzle it with their mouth. Remaining passive, calm, quiet, and respectful was my intention and it proved to be challenging because I wanted to embrace these gentle, curious creatures with my arms. Instead I just kept cooing to them, telling them I loved them, giggling, and of course, filming them. My embrace for them came as waves of love flowed from my heart to them…aching for their survival and well-being.

Many manatees carry deep scars from boat propellers on their backs. Some even had scars on their front flippers. There are humans that are asinine in their relating to these slow, gentle creatures by splashing, chasing, poking, or otherwise harassing. They exhibit the worst of what being human means to wild animals. Some boat operators refuse to observe areas set aside as no-wake zones to protect manatees from fast-moving boats. And yet….manatees choose to interact with humans that show respect. It amazes me that they are still able to trust humans. Something I feel incapable of doing for the exact reasons expressed….and countless other violations against nature, against wildlife some humans, in their arrogance and ignorance, display.

Two days of being in the presence of these remarkable beings gave me much to think on. The lessons I take away will continue to unfold as I remember their eyes staring into my soul, their whiskers tickling my face, the soft noses and mouths exploring my cameras. Probably the most incredible moment was when I was laying on top of the water, both hands grasping my camera, and a baby tucked his head behind my arm as if looking for a place to nurse. (Manatee mom’s nurse their babies at the base of their flippers). How blessed I felt that this little one felt safe enough, as did his mother, to inspect this human and learn about the strange creatures who visit their underwater realm.