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A First-Grader Teaches Me

A First-Grader Teaches Me

laughing gull
laughing gull

I left my home early this morning on my way to Fort Morgan Ferry via a stop-over at a beach between here and there to check for Least Tern courtship and nesting behavior for NFWS. My ultimate destination was the Dauphin Island Sea Lab Discovery Day. I was volunteering at the Marine Mammal Stranding Network table and display.

I did indeed see the endangered species of Least Terns frolicking over the Gulf and having seen at least 30 of those beautiful birds, I drove on to Ft. Morgan.

simonelipscomb (7)Waiting in line as a pedestrian at the ferry dock I met a couple from Quebec cycling to Austin, Texas and then on to Europe. I suddenly had an urge to do something crazy like they were doing. They had sold everything and were living and traveling via recumbent cycles pulling small trailers. Reminded me of the guy who sold everything to follow his dream of creating life-size prints of whales. These folks are doing something BIG! And I like it!!!

simonelipscomb (4)Meanwhile, I rode the ferry as a pedestrian and made the short walk to the Sea Lab. It was awesome seeing so many families out enjoying the day and learning more about our coastal treasures.

After helping store our display, I walked through the Estuarium and sat for a while with a nurse shark and hopefully somehow communicated my appreciation to him and his cousins all over the globe. That quiet moment sitting nose-to-nose with this beautiful little shark was precious. Then it got crowded so I moved on and walked back to the ferry dock and waited over an hour for the next ferry.

During this time I met an amazing young man who is a first grader. He and his grandmothers had walked on the ferry and visited the Sea Lab’s Discovery Day. We chatted and then, when the ferry arrived, boarded together. The young man and I visited more as we made the trip across Mobile Bay. He expressed his dislike of drilling for gas and oil in the bay and Gulf. He told me of his love for ‘mother nature.’

simonelipscomb (6)Just when I felt as if humans had reached the bottom of environmental and social concern, I met this amazing young man who is a volunteer for Share the Beach…Alabama’s sea turtle volunteer program. He without hesitation expresses his love for mother nature and is clear about his distaste and concern over drilling for oil and gas in the water.

simonelipscomb (5)On this three year anniversary of the BP Deepwater Horizon Disaster–when I stopped counting gas rigs in the bay at over 30 in the crossing from Ft. Morgan to Dauphin Island–and when my hope for humanity had reached a new low, this boy reminded me of the generations that are rising up to lead us. Suddenly I didn’t feel hopeless any more.

April Fool?

April Fool?

I was beginning to think it was a bad April Fool’s joke. I was standing on the beach asking the lifeguard if he knew where the dead dolphin was that had been reported. He didn’t but rode west three miles down the beach on his three wheeler looking….nothing. I called our stranding coordinator and told her the lifeguard reported that someone said there had been a dolphin with rope on its tail…but no dead dolphin materialized. Not sounding good….could we be getting pranked by spring breakers?

A little nudge from my intuition sent me walking east. It was looking pretty hopeless but my intuition nudged me again…ask the fisherman. I did and he said…”Yes, I know exactly where it is. Can’t you smell it?”

simonelipscomb (5)
Recovered dolphin last week

Great. And I thought last week’s dolphin carcass was challenging. The bloating was significant and so was the smell. But I was observing a necropsy of a very large, adult male dolphin inside a facility. Some decomposing and a lot of blood…the smell of blood was what wore on my stamina. Tissue samples were taken, counting of teeth, and all the other data that must be collected from a marine mammal death. Hours upon hours of locating, loading, hauling, photographing, and bit-by-bit taking the dolphin apart and taking samples from organs, blood, eyes…a very intensive effort on the part of several people.

Thankfully it wasn't another dead dolphin
Thankfully it wasn’t an uncounted dead dolphin

But today, I witnessed another large dolphin…this time in the final stages of decay. The body had been dragged with a rope and there were parts missing….the lower right mandible, the dorsal fin…and even in the ragged state this dolphin was in, I could see where tissue had been removed. Between our coordinator, my on-scene eyes (and nose…significant putrid smell) and another biologist via telephone, we pieced together the story.

simonelipscomb (2)This dolphin was found in December, processed by the other biologist and dragged up in the dunes by the resort gardener and buried. It had been recently unearthed by someone or something and the smell created a curiosity in spring break celebrants who reported to the resort management there was a dolphin on the beach with a rope around it. They forgot to mention the fact that it was nearly skeletal….but that’s okay. We want to be sure it is a dolphin that has already been counted….and not an unreported death.

I had nothing to measure the length of the carcass except my flip flops.... x 9 lengths
I had nothing to measure the length of the carcass except my flip flops…. x 9 lengths

Perhaps I did feel like an April Fool….but in a good way I suppose. Not another dolphin death, just a resurrection…of sorts….VERY ‘of sorts.’

Every marine mammal that washes onshore  (bays and rivers included…not just the Gulf) and is reported has to be confirmed, measured, tissue samples taken and a lot of paperwork completed by the coordinator at Dauphin Island Sea Lab. She is working to build the volunteer program so our state can do its part in reporting dolphin and manatee mortality and stranding.

It’s not a pleasant job as most ‘strandings’ are really recovery and examination of dead dolphins and manatees. But it is very necessary to gather the data and samples so the reason behind the nearly 900 dolphin deaths since the BP Oil Spill can be determined. Everyone isn’t capable of this kind of ‘death’ work…but there are different jobs you can do to help the Alabama Marine Mammal Stranding Network. It’s one way you can make a difference.

Land-Locked No More!

Land-Locked No More!

Awakening in the black of pre-dawn, I stood up and immediately missed the gentle rocking of the ocean. Sitting at my desk under the open windows beside the oak tree, birds singing to me, the entire house rocked me gently all day as I processed images and video. Or at least that’s what it felt like after a week on a boat.

During the many years I spent as a land-locked diver, I would always have a deep sadness at leaving the ocean and returning to the mountains. I love the mountains but the sea remains my constant, the core of who I am. And now, after dive trips, I find myself heading back to a coast and the joy is unmistakable. And the gratitude bubbles up in waves of heart-felt love for my beautiful home and the live oaks it’s nestled under….and the Magnolia River and the bays and the Gulf of Mexico–all a part of this life I inhabit.

The sights and smells of the rivers, bays and open water of the Gulf keep me grounded in pure ecstasy and appreciation for my wonderful home….yes, the outer home but mostly this inner home of beauty I discover as I open my heart and mind to beauty, to light….to unconditional love. I am free and the coast of Alabama mirrors this freedom to me, mentors my expanding efforts to bring all of who I am to this life.

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part Three

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part Three

Blue green Ocean, Liquid Light

Fill me with love so that I may serve.

Fill me with Compassion so that I may serve.

Help me focus on solutions, rather than problems.

Help me see the good in humans, and celebrate our collective potential to heal ourselves and the planet.

May I be an instrument, finely tuned to the needs of the Earth and Ocean, wild creatures and my own species. May I anchor light and work to expand it daily as we awaken from our slumber.

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part Two

Diary of a Wild Heart–Part Two

With my wild heart open and singing, I carefully stepped on ancient coral-rock pieces hearing them clink, clink as my weight shifted from one foot to the other. The towering turquoise waves brought out my own inner power and I felt myself expanding. But as I looked down at the beach, evidence of human consumerism was everywhere.

The open water between Venezuela and Bonaire is very rough and the south end of the island is the repository for endless man-made trash the Ocean regurgitates in an effort to cleanse Itself. I saw part of the worst of humanity scattered haphazardly among the rocks. Shoes by the hundreds, plastic bottles, plastic cases, plastic ground into small bits by the waves and rocks…a plastic virus covered the beach for as far as I could see.

Anger reared up from deep within, from that dark place in my gut and hot lava-like fury erupted as I spewed epitaphs to my species. And then….ever so slowly….I stilled my mind and let my emotions ebb. I looked out over the Caribbean water and listened for an answer to my question: What can I do?

Very softly, like a whisper riding the wind, I heard, “To help me you must develop compassion for humans.”

Yeah, right I thought as I looked around at tins leaking unknown toxins onto the earth. Look at what we do to this planet! How can I possibly feel compassion for this kind of behavior? 

Patiently, yet wildly with waves and spray leaping over twenty feet into the air, I heard, “You must develop patience for humans if you want to make a positive difference.” As the message filtered through the language center of my brain I recognized the challenge of simply listening to the message coming to me….whether it really was from the Ocean or Earth or my subconscious was making it up, it really didn’t matter. As they say, Fantasy is the ark that carries the ass.

“Really?” I said out loud. The words blew back at me with a gust of salty wind. Coated with Her salty

essence, I took to heart the message. As I continued to still my mind I heard that compassion comes from understanding the ignorance of humans. Sidetracked by our own intoxication of power we, as a species, disconnect from our true, wild essence to conquer everything around us. In so doing we destroy not only the earth and all resources but ourselves as well UNLESS we can open ourselves, our hearts, to the elements, the wildness around and within ourselves.