Category: Nature

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.

Gulf Coast–January 2011 Summary

Gulf Coast–January 2011 Summary

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My first day out, January 10th, yielded major oil at the surf zone. But this time in the form of a hardened shelf of crude. Recent winter storm waves had exposed the shelf and deposited oil from the bottom of the Gulf, according to a supervisor on one of the clean-up crews, on the beach. It was as bad as I’ve seen the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge since I begin documenting this disaster in May 2010. The only difference was it was 60 degrees cooler than the July and August temperatures that made it a living hell on the beaches with horrible smells; thick, gooey, melted petroleum coated sand and mats of oil floated in the Gulf then. Now at least it is hardened. It seems reasonable that NOW would be the time to remove the oil from the beach…right? But the clean-up crews are understaffed and sometimes not even present.

Two days later and sand, from a hefty north wind, had nearly covered the oil shelf. People might be tempted, in looking at this sight, to say, “It’s not so bad.” They just need to see what lies just beneath the surface to fully comprehend the amount of oil still present on the beach at the Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge.

Ft Morgan beach had some small tar balls but nothing else evident. But understand this: It depends on the day you visit, the way the wind is blowing, and the strength of the waves to see the truth about the amount of oil on the beach. My two visits to the national wildlife refuge clearly proved that.

The day I visited Ft. Morgan the wind was out of the north at 35mph and the temperature was 41 degrees coming across Mobile Bay. Thank goodness the North Carolina mountain winters have taught me how to stay warm in such conditions. There was a fair amount of shore birds on the Gulf beach including sanderlings, brown pelicans, willets, ruddy turnstones, and gulls. It was heartening to see a nice-size bird flock at Ft. Morgan, especially since the oil-laden beaches at the wildlife refuge, 10 miles east, were nearly vacant of birdlife.

Gulf State Park Pier beaches had been, or were in the process of being, deep-cleaned. There was some light oiling washing up on the beach but not many noticeable tar balls. There were birds present, although not in the typical winters numbers I would expect.

The foot ‘issues’ I have been documenting were evident in one gull in the flock there at Gulf State Park.

On this trip I was able to spend one day enjoying the coastal treasures I grew up with. Romar beach had been deep-cleaned and looked pretty good. Very few birds were present but the water appeared quite nice.

Alabama Point and the Gulf Islands National Seashore provided me with delightful hours that nurtured my weary spirit. I thought, as I wandered along the beaches, how strange it was that an ecosystem still struggling to recover and heal could provide me with such healing. It was nice to spend time connecting with the raw, intense beauty of the Gulf Coast.

My visit was a study in contrasts. One beach was heavily covered in oil while another might look okay. There was bird life on some beaches while it was absent on others. It’s difficult to form much of an opinion from four days of beach visits but it was very telling to see so much oil exposed one day and almost completely covered two days later. The summary for my January visit is this: There is much that remains hidden about the oil spill and recovery…and I mean that on many levels.

Caught in an Unholy War

Caught in an Unholy War

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As I was walking along the shore at Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge, I saw a layer of oil exposed from the incoming tide. I was photographing it when one of the four-wheelers stopped and the guy started calling out to me. Because of the wind I couldn’t hear him so I walked over to hear what he was saying.

He told me he was a supervisor from Crowder, the current BP contractor corporation providing clean-up on the Alabama Gulf Coast. Just today, he said, he found that particular layer of oil at the water’s edge. He had marked it with flags and had shown his crew, who he related wanted to immediately scoop it off the beach. As he was telling me about everything he and the contractors were doing to make the beach better, he stopped talking for a moment, looked down the beach and said, “Those wildlife officers are watching us.” “So what?” I replied. He went on to tell me that the wildlife officers employed by the US Fish and Wildlife agency did not particularly like the contractors. “Oh,” I pondered out loud.

As the contractor was driving off, I looked up and saw the most amazing clouds over the dunes. Like a magnet, they drew me in. While avoiding sea oats, I walked to the base of the dune and took a few photographs. I turned and walked back toward shore and the wildlife officers were wheeling toward me. In a friendly wave, I greeted them.

I had missed the signs professing the area was closed. Maybe it was the rapture of beautiful clouds or my foggy brain still in recovery from food poisoning Sunday night, regardless I was approached by both armed officers who asked if I had seen the signs. The signs are spaced at 100++ foot intervals along the dune line and I had wandered between two signs, no more than 20 feet into the ‘closed’ area.

Okay, of all the people who visit the refuge I’m the last person who would do anything to harm the environment or wildlife there. I’ve walked through 100 degree temperatures for miles through the center of the refuge to get images and video of the heavy machines hauling the beach away during the invasion of the oil. I’ve written passionately about wildlife and wild places and included my work from the oil spill in my recently published book, Place of Spirit. Not intending to do any harm but rather capture the beauty of this place was no excuse. I had entered the NO NO zone. But seriously. Not a warning or verbal reprimand? I wasn’t on the dune, was careful about where I stepped and had barely entered closed area.

When I explained all of this to the officers they said they had a lot of trouble with the contractors and so had to be very strict about anyone crossing the (invisible) line. Oh….so I was being made an example of for the contractors. And it worked. As the officer was writing me a ticket, a tractor driver came up and the officer stepped out of the way…INTO THE FORBIDDEN ZONE. I made a comment about being careful not to step into the closed area, with humor, and he realized he also was in the no trespassing area and so stepped back out of it while continuing to write the ticket…the $75 ticket.

As I walked back to my car I knew that in ‘normal’ times I would have received a verbal warning, not a ticket. I have no issue paying the fine. Each of those 20 feet cost me $3.75, a small price to pay for realizing just how stressed relations are between people trying to protect the environment and those who work for people who nearly annihilated the environment on the Gulf Coast. It seems that wildlife officers have it ‘in’ for contractors, some of whom are careless. And people like me, who adore nature and work diligently to document and share the seriousness of this on-going oil spill event (paying our own expenses) get caught in the middle of some unholy war between the good guys and those who work for the bad guys.

The contract workers are not the enemy Mr. Wildlife Officers (please tell your bosses). Neither are nature-lovers enraptured by beautiful clouds.

Clear Cut

Clear Cut

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What if you came home and found that your neighbor had clear cut beloved trees from your yard…thirteen of your friends that gave you shade, buffer from winds, and helped keep the slope above your home from eroding. One of my neighbors experienced just that this week and our neighborhood is truly sick about it.

In order to improve her view, the resident above the clearcut had a guy cut 33 trees from her view–20 of her trees and 13 of the neighbor below…going 22 feet into the other person’s property to cut trees over 38 inches in circumference. What would you do? How would you handle it?

I was called in to document through photographs and measurements this rape on our mountain. I called on a sister spirit and neighbor to go with me to visit our other neighbor who was completely devastated by this arrogant and mindless event. Thank goodness it was pouring rain while we were working as I was so angry the rain cooled my temper.

We have a convenant that clearly states that clear cutting is not allowed. We have fines in place for cutting trees over 24 inches in circumference. But this homeowner, in an effort to improve her view, cut trees that were holding an already-eroding slope. When her home slides down the mountain perhaps she will be able to put two-and-two together to realize that the covenant rules are not to make life difficult, they are to protect the slopes and homes of our neighborhood. Or maybe she’s preparing to sell the house and wanted to improve her chances of selling by improving her view. Regardless, we are heartbroken at this act of selfishness.

As I tromped through the wasteland of trees and mud I felt like I was at the Gulf Coast, reliving the emotions created by the selfish, arrogant acts of a corporation we know as BP. That same sick feeling came over me as I felt the common thread of humans that lay waste to the environment and act irresponsibly, answering to no one.

There is no clear cut way to handle something like this so I keep asking for strength and courage to face such devastation and work even harder and more diligent to educate the ignorant and encourage those who already care. Every act of violence on the planet and on our neighbors must be met with dedication to caring for the Earth and each other.

Wolf Spirit

Wolf Spirit

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The wolf approached me from behind as I sat on the ground with my cameras. He reached over my shoulder, bringing his face next to mine. I closed my eyes and he gently licked my neck.

Something shifted within me at that moment. A wild part of me was freed and I felt myself trust my own wildness, just as I trusted the wolf.

I was attending a program on wolves and was photographing them and their interactions with people. The crowd was thinning out and I was on the ground getting some really great shots of their faces. While focusing on one wolf, the other wolf became interested in me. The handler told me the wolf had been trying to reach me but I was just out of reach of his restraint. When he was able to touch me, it was evident he wanted to connect. I put my cameras aside and stroked him, while verbalizing my appreciation for his spirit.

When he reached for my neck, I surrendered in total trust. It was more than an internal shift–it was a leap toward my own nature.

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Human fear nearly wiped out the wild wolf population in our country. How sad that we project our fear onto innocents. Innocent?, you ask. There has never been any confirmed attack and killing of a human by a healthy wolf. Tales of terror have been programmed into our psyches, but wolves are almost exactly the opposite of what we’ve been told. They are social, friendly, and highly intelligent. They have a tremendous sense of family and have a strong ‘wolf’ code the family groups live by. Wolves use body language to communicate and learn at an early age to read movements, glances, and other gestures and assign great meaning to them. Wild wolves avoid humans through their sense of smell that is said to be 100 times greater than our olfactory ability. Ted Andrew’s says, “Many believe that the true test of America’s sincerity about protecting the environment will revolve around whether or not the wolf remains protected and is allowed to be reintroduced into areas of the country where it has heretofore been eliminated. The wolf is the true spirit of the free and unspoiled wilderness.”