wildlife Archives - Page 2 of 5 -

Welcome to the World Baby Turtles

By Simone Lipscomb | July 19, 2013

It was a glorious afternoon. I arrived at the nest we had been watching at 4.30pm and listened with the stethoscope. One 20 second cascade of sand was heard with some crawling sounds. Over an hour later…same. And on it went for hours. Checking only once an hour and thinking the turtles were resting…but that moon might just enliven them….a girl can hope, right?

In the meanwhile one of our team members refined the trench two had dug the day before. The trench helps the turtles from wandering to porch lights, condo lights and acts as a guide for their long crawl to the beach…which is especially long since the beaches were renourished, refurbished…whatever they call it. It is a very long crawl for such tiny tots. In crowded, light-polluted areas it gives the newborns their best chance at making it to open water.

The especially loooong crawl to the water....the trench helps with the light pollution experienced on our beaches. — The especially loooong crawl to the water….the trench helps with the light pollution experienced on our beaches.

Even though my shift was officially over at 9pm I had an intuitive hunch to stay around a while. At 10pm one of our folks checked and heard very active babies. They had awakened and were busy crawling up in their nest. When I last listened at 11pm it was a constant cascade of sand…so much so that I couldn’t believe we had not had some change in the surface. Just after listening I looked and saw a very small lip of sand had formed…no greater than 1.5 inches on one side of the nest. When a friend and fellow turtle-lover joined us from her home on the beach I asked her to re-check the nest at 11.20pm. In just a few moments she was excitedly saying….hurry!! They are coming!!

Because the sand was perfectly dry and fluffy, there wasn’t a big crater until they boiled. And boil they did…..delightful loggerhead hatchlings.

I squatted just outside the nest and watched as these little darlings used the steep incline as a slide. It was perfectly beautiful, perfectly precious. I sang Happy Birthday, Happy Trails and wished them well….my usual softly-delivered welcome-to-the-world-angels speech.

Hatchling from 2012. We cannot use any lights/flashes, etc when a hatching is happening. This one was from an excavation early evening last year.

While other humans were in front of TV’s or in bars or perhaps doing some job they hate in a place they like less, a sacred gift was bestowed on all who braved the late hour to witness one of nature’s miracles. I would not trade those hours for anything I know.

During the middle of the hatching, when there was a momentary lull in the action, I checked the nest and one baby was very still under a lip of sand. After all the others had vacated and were happily (hopefully) swimming in the sea, I kept tabs on the sleepy baby. A cascade here and there as well as crawling sounds were still happening and soon another baby slid down the sand slide to begin her march to the beach. There was one active baby that ‘swam’ up in the sandy nest that actually crawled over to the resting sibling and nudged her awake. Then together they took their miraculous journey to the saltwater…the journey that reverberates with healing metaphors that offer wisdom to all who are open to the teachings.

Arriving home near 3am I found myself once again feeling in sync with nature, with the cycles of life and the hope that is always birthed with a sea turtle nest exploding into life.

Leaping

By Simone Lipscomb | July 16, 2013

I was tired and had already been in my car too long running errands earlier in the day but something pushed me out of my comfy chair in my peaceful home. I grabbed my tripod and camera and only one lens….the glorious little beastie, the Nikon 14-24 2.8.

There wasn’t a lot of color in the sky when I arrived at the beach but soft hues create gentle images so I played around under the pier and then headed east, away from condos and into undeveloped shoreline.

Maybe 500 yards from the pier I came upon a loon. Not a human dressed in black socks and sandals sporting a hawaiian shirt drinking beer and littering cans all over the beach…a real loon. The bird. Specifically a Common Loon.

She was sitting on the lip of the sand, just out of reach of the water. Loons cannot walk because their legs are so far back on their bodies. They are diving birds and spend most of their time in the water, only coming on land for nesting. (This particular one was a juvenile…which I’m still puzzling about since they typically don’t nest here but back to the story).

The bird was alert, appeared uninjured and was tolerant but wary when I slowly approached. There was no blood or indications of any problems except the obvious one–she was not in the water. She just anxiously looked at the water and then back at me. I understand that look of longing and could feel her desire to be back in her element.

It was almost dark and concerned that coyotes would make a meal out of the grounded bird, I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Nobody was available to come check on her. But heck, I thought, I used to be the state park naturalist here, I can help this bird. I worked with all kinds of birds here in the 80’s.

The beaks are very sharp but I didn’t want to handle the bird anyway. Like I used to teach scuba students, self-rescue is always best. So I spotted a large piece of styrofoam down the beach and retrieved it. It was very bright white and my loony friend had an intense dislike of it. So much so that as soon as I approached, even very slowly, she decided to make a break for the water…never mind that she really couldn’t walk. With a burst of energy she pushed herself toward an oncoming wave, shot out a trail of poop and was out past the breakers before I could understand what just happened. She rescued herself with a little coaching from me. My guess is that with the rough water she was swept onshore while fishing inside the sand bar.

The last time I saw her she was frolicking (really…I’m NOT kidding) out past the breakers and taking a much-needed saltwater bath.

I suppose we all need a little encouragement to go for what we really long for sometimes. When and why do we take action? My suspicion is the fear of staying stuck becomes greater than the fear of leaping.

To all those awaiting a Universal sign to leap…..maybe today is the day!

Requiem for the Pelicans

By Simone Lipscomb | May 6, 2013

I just read that nine pelicans at Gulf State Park Pier were found dead this weekend. Park officials suspect someone poisoned them or killed them. There is an ongoing battle between fishermen that like to feed fish scraps to the pelicans and those that are aggressive and act violently toward them.

This past winter I spent two days on the pier and witnessed both behaviors. Sweet, gentle fishermen would feed them scraps and talk to them as though they were friends.

I saw a male teenager take his fishing rod and rake it on pelicans sitting on the rail and deck…laughing as he did it. And the pelicans were sleeping at the time. The next day I witnessed an adult male violently spray them at close range with a water hose and when I asked him to stop because he was spraying me…and I was sitting around the corner….he came around the corner and very aggressively cursed me out.

I reported both incidences of aggression and pier officials knew the teens and reprimanded them. The adult I reported but after he left the pier. He was one of the angriest, aggressive men I’ve ever met. Being on the receiving end of his vile energy was scary and very unpleasant. I could easily imagine him beating his wife or children….I had never witnessed that kind of violence directed at animals or me. And over birds pooping on the pier deck. SERIOUSLY!!

So I have no doubt that some manner of evil was done to these brown pelicans. They live in the Gulf and fish in their home. For humans to enter their home, make pets of them and then kill them is so insane I hardly know what to do with my feelings….anger, grief….disbelief that humans progressively move toward the two extremes of darkness and light.

These birds were friends to many humans who loved them and respected them. I sit at my desk weeping not only for these birds but for all wildlife who die needlessly and violently at the hands of humans steeped in darkness. Times such as this make me wonder if collective, conscious awakening will ever happen….and I tend to be positive and upbeat. But right now….right now my heart is broken.

The photographs are from the two days I spent with the pelicans on Gulf State Park Pier.

If you happened to be on the pier and know anything about this incident please contact the park ranger at Gulf State Park at 251-948-7275

A Wild Heart

By Simone Lipscomb | March 29, 2013

Nothing is more vital than a wild heart. When we lose that, we’ve lost our connection to the untamed, the unruly….the undomesticated part of ourself. And when that happens, the planet suffers.

Yesterday I met Sampson.

I walked into the conference room and high up on a shelf, he perched. At first I wasn’t sure if he was alive as I wasn’t expecting a bobcat to be…ummm…there. But he was very much alive.

Sampson is a northern bobcat that was ‘owned’ by humans who had him declawed and kept as a pet. They ran into problems with his ‘wild’ behaviors and there were permitting issues so he was surrendered to a wildlife rescue group in Ft. Walton Beach who now provide a home for him. He doesn’t like to be outdoors but rather lives in the administrative part of their building.

*Stanley Kubrick, my orange tabby companion…can’t you see the*

resemblance When I looked into this beautiful bobcat’s eyes I immediately saw my orange cat Stanley reflected back through the thread of wildness that remains very present in Sampson. Only it was like Stanley with his superhero powers turned up to full force.

There was no where to hide from his searching eyes. When they locked with mine I understood that his wild wisdom is still intact even though he lives indoors. It was a bit unnerving to have my own wildness, my own worthiness to be evaluated. It was as if I was exposed, open to his scrutiny with no tree or rock or pretense to hide behind. He nailed me.

Sampson allowed me to photograph his greatness and then came down to my level and allowed me to stroke him and ‘love’ him. I was being accepted into his clan. And when I sat at the conference table, he jumped up and walked to me and head-butted or bunted my forehead when I lowered my head to his. Cats (domestic and wild) have facial pheromones that they deposit on other cats, people, objects as a way to mark something as safe. According to one vet, it is like leaving a signal of comfort and safety….trusting the person or environment.

As I reflect back on my interaction with this amazing animal I realize how grateful I am. To be accepted as a trustworthy friend, or a person of comfort and safety to a wild creature (especially one that has been removed from his natural environment by humans and ‘used’ as a pet) is a gift to me. Given the amount of damage humans do to wild animals and wild places, to find acceptance such as this makes my heart glad…and happy.

What is needed on our part to find greater acceptance from wild hearts of the world? What must we do to find ourselves worthy to be accepted by the clan of wild beings that we, in the greater sense, have abandoned? How can we maintain our wildness, like Sampson, even when living in environments that can seem far away from wilderness?

Whether a bobcat–ripped from his natural home as a baby–or a wild manatee, chooses to bring me into their clan, I am deeply grateful that I am deemed as acceptable, as a trustworthy friend and a human that brings comfort instead of pain and destruction….on some level do they know that I am a champion of their wild hearts?

Welcome to My Courtyard

By Simone Lipscomb | March 17, 2013

Recent winds have caused a blizzard of live oak tree leaves that have covered the brick pavers in the courtyard. It’s no big deal really; however, with rain forecasted for the day, I wanted to remove the leaves before they got plastered and stuck to the bricks.

It felt amazing to be outside in the cool, gray morning. After a day spent traveling to Atlanta and back yesterday, I needed some quiet time in nature. The courtyard is a place of peace and quiet where birds entertain the porch-confined cats and flutter and flit all day through the little haven.

I brought out the broom and started sweeping. The leaf blower gifted to me from Asheville never started after I moved. Not by my choice…it wouldn’t crank. My brother took it apart, I pleaded with it….but nothing. It was dead. Not a spark of life in it. So I’ve been sweeping the courtyard for almost a year now. I keep meaning to find a replacement but haven’t. And I don’t mind it…if the leaves are dry.

Classical music wafted softly from the porch as the swishing of the broom put me in a sort of nature-trance. And then…a burst of life erupted from the spider plant…the one that wintered outdoors due to lack of actual ‘winter’ with all of my tropical plants. Ah…the wren.

I realized, as I swept, that it was her courtyard I was sweeping. She allows me to share it with her and the family. She fusses and bustles about and graces this sacred space with the sweetest song. Welcome to my courtyard, she sings. And so I accept her invitation and do my best to keep it tidy and beautiful for the wren mama and her babies soon to arrive.