Category: wildlife

Dance of Beauty

Dance of Beauty

I stood transfixed listening to wild turkeys vocalizing across the creek. The distinct and loud gobble of a male followed by the yelp of a female. For days as I walked the Mountain, I have heard the calls, have seen a dozen hens roosting in the huge, white pines overhanging the small creek. Today I wanted to find out where the chorus of wild bird sounds originated.

Walking down the mountain, we decided to follow the pavement around to a road that followed the creek, far below where we stood listening. As we got closer, the verdant pasture that arose from the water was covered in wild turkeys. At least 9 fully-displaying males and over 30 females provided a glimpse into the spring equinox celebration of these amazing creatures. It seemed that two or three small groups had joined together in one large group of courtship and scouting-for-potential-mates.

I could write pages recording emotions I felt as I observed, but it still would not express the sheer joy and sense of awe I felt as the tom’s spread their massive tails into fans and puffed their chests and dropped their wings while dancing with one another. Watching from the high bank of the rushing water, standing among delicate trout lilies, breathing fresh air while seeing the morning sun sparkle off iridescent feathers….how could life get much better than this? Such beauty of color, sound, movement.

Two-by-two the males walked up the pasture to the top of the ridge. I saw only beauty, breathed only beauty and lifted my heart with gratitude for this amazing experience, this profound rite of spring.

Grateful for the Small Things

Grateful for the Small Things

Okay, so this juvenile bear isn’t exactly small, as the title suggests. Neither are the two others that are part of this family. The mother is huge and healthy and I am overjoyed that I spent time watching this precious family romp on my decks Thanksgiving night and a couple nights after that instead of being in some store getting pepper-sprayed while reaching for a $2 waffle iron.

In preparation for my upcoming move to Coastal Alabama I’ve been sorting through clothes and ‘stuff’ that I have accumulated in the past 5 1/2 years here in Asheville. While I’m grateful to have warm clothes to wear and a nice home in which to live and toys to play with, I find that the most important things can’t be bought…like spending time with my bear friends.

A few years ago I installed a small water garden to provide water for wildlife. One afternoon as the bears were playing around my home, a young one came up to the glass door where I was sitting with my camera and placed her wet paw on the glass where my face was peering out. I pressed my face closer to the glass and she licked the glass. I could almost feel the tickle of her warm, pink tongue on my nose as I giggled. What could be more joy than this? A $2 waffle iron? Hardly.

Last week I helped celebrate Micki Cabaniss Eutsler’s birthday. Micki is a neighbor here on the mountain and she was my first publisher. I met her shortly after moving to the mountain and our connection led to her company, Grateful Steps, publishing their 7th book, my first. I was able to tell Micki, at her party, how much I appreciate her mentoring me in the publishing realm and helping me believe in my abilities as a writer.

As I feel my time in these lovely Blue Ridge Mountains come to a close, I am mindful of the many people, places and animal friends that have enriched my life and blessed me with experiences that are forever woven into the fabric of my life, my soul. The visits from the turkeys, raccoons, flying squirrels, ‘possums, bears, hawks and song birds are gifts that cannot be bought. I consider these wild creatures my family and their well-being and health brings such happiness to me, such celebration!

We live in a time of change. A time when darkness is exposed more and more. Rather than dwell on the horror of it all, let us joyfully celebrate the light that comes and do whatever we can to see that it increases. For baby bears, friends, trees, the snow falling across the valley as I type this….I am grateful.

To learn more about my books and my work please visit Turtle Island Adventures. (No…the snow is light today…the image of Riceville Valley was taken last year…I see this every day as I walk…snow or green, it’s amazing!).

Change Agents

Change Agents

On September 23rd I was in a small jet flying to Atlanta from Asheville. We flew over Lake Julian and the coal-fired power plant. Horrendous, black piles of death lay below. Earth raped as a commodity. I was glad to be headed for Rowe, Massachusetts where I would be spending a week with Joanna Macy and many other activists and lovers of our planet.

The first night, 68 of us met with Joanna. We listened as this wise woman shared about the history of humanity’s relationship with Earth. Most humans have used Earth as a supply house and a sewer. Finally, many are beginning to see the Earth as alive, as living. After she shared this and more, each of us stated our name and something of Earth we would protect. After feeling so isolated and alone documenting the Gulf Oil Spill, it was balm to my soul to witness so many people standing up to protect a place, animal, plant…body of water, mountain, meadow.

I left that first night’s gathering feeling the sweetness and power of people uniting for the common good. And with this happy feeling I had to negotiate walking on a small, wooded roadway at night with no light. I had to use my spider-sense, my bear and cougar sense–my wild woman sense that is connected with the wet, deep darkness and rich, loamy Earth. The part of me that sees without eyes and knows from the sound of gravel or grass underfoot where I am. I later wrote, “Amidst the inky blackness, rich and deep, silver drops from dark green leaves splatter and fall to the ground. I walk between two worlds, caught in the middle between lies and truth. May I stand with an open heart and bear witness.”

There was so much I learned and experienced that week at Rowe Camp and Conference Center and there are many nuggets of wisdom that will be with me as my work at the Gulf continues. However, one particular concept stands out. John Seed, an activist who worked to protect trees in the forests of Australia, had the idea that when we stand up to protect something on Earth, it’s really that place or thing protecting itself through us. In example, “I am not Simone protecting the Gulf of Mexico, I am the Gulf of Mexico protecting itself through this piece of humanity.”

And so to all those working on the Gulf, we are united in our efforts by the Gulf of Mexico. And for all environmental efforts, it is the same. Reframing activism, in this way, shifted my thinking and helped me feel the whole of all involved in working to protect and heal our planet.

Whatever you love about Earth and are willing to stand up for, say it out loud in the context written above by John Seed. What do you notice?

Some ideas shared by Joanna: Healing the planet comes from seeing the relationships and interrelationships. Action is something I am! (Not something I do). Don’t wait for the blueprint or plan as an activist. You cannot predict the synergy that occurs when you take steps and risks. Have the courage to move out with ideas. Power is an organic outcome of synergy. Evolutionary forces are wanting to work through us.

After lunch one day I climbed a steep trail and sat on a rock at the top of a mountain and heard this: “When you are called to witness a devastation to Earth, you serve as one of a council who then reports to the whole. Tell the truth of what you see. See with your heart.” And so my work continues whether I’m reading articles on the Gulf Oil Spill and passing them on to others or on the beaches documenting the huge chunks of tar washing up or speaking with school kids.

Many times I have struggled with my reason for doing the work at the Gulf and have asked myself questions like: “Is anybody really paying attention?” “All this time and energy here and is it making a difference?” Joanna reminded us to release the need for our work to make a difference or reach people or be successful. The most important thing to do is to keep doing the work, allowing the creativity to continue to move through us. The key is simply to keep doing it.

“We are so much more than we see right now. The powers that brought us here are so powerful we cannot even imagine.” Joanna reminded us that we have help and we’re not alone. What an important message for all who are working as change agents for Earth.

What are you willing to stand up and protect?

To learn more about my work, please visit my website Turtle Island Adventures.

Seasonal Teachings

Seasonal Teachings

This past week I had two perfect days of paddling my SUP board. Lake Lure was surrounded by mountains sprinkled with colorful autumn trees and smooth cliff faces crowned with yellow, orange and red ridges. Blue sky contained it all as I glided on cold lake water, which refreshed my feet if I got sloppy with my paddle.

I marveled at the patterns of light on the water’s surface. My soul slurped up the colors and patterns and beauty of the days like a person dying of thirst. And perhaps I had been starving myself of beauty, cutting myself off from the season and the many gifts it offers, too caught up in distractions. My experiences paddling and another day I spent in the Smokies, made me pause and reflect.

Living in the mountains of Western North Carolina has been such an amazing experience. Over the past five years I have come into harmony with nature’s seasonal rhythms. My home is on the side of a mountain and this time of year offers an opening view with every leaf that falls. Thirty foot windows frame a valley and mountain ridge that come into focus more each day as the season unfolds, as the leaves whirl away with windy gusts.

During every autumn, the curtain of green, then yellow and orange opens to reveal the majesty of the Blue Ridge Mountains. And in the spring the curtain offers green shade and cool days of mountain beauty. By living surrounded by these hardwoods, the full impact of seasonal shifts literally comes into my home and forces me to pay attention to the miracles happening in Nature every day.

And like seasons of Earth, our lives have seasons, too. This home and these magnificent mountains have cradled me for over five years now. My creativity has expanded, my path become more clear and my work has been launched into the world in increasingly bigger ways. For all of these things, I am profoundly grateful. The shedding of leaves from trees here reminds me that I must also let go and move forward, as the wheel of the year moves forward. Now the time has come to release this home, these mountains and trees…wild turkey, bear and all of my wildlife friends here and move to my next home.

While I feel sadness about saying goodbye to this place, this amazing place, I look forward with anticipation of new tree friends…wildlife, river, bay and Gulf friends that crawl, fly, swim and walk on four legs. Already the deep sense of place of Magnolia River calls me to come and commune with Her and be nurtured by fresh, clear water of this sacred place.

And so I wait and listen and let my heart fill with gratitude for this place I say goodbye to and a new place already whispering my name.

The Basis of Our Self-Destruction

The Basis of Our Self-Destruction

There was a mass-murder of beautiful tigers, lions, wolves, cougars, bears and a baboon this week in Ohio. I understood that fear was the basis for destroying these beautiful and, in some cases, highly endangered animals but it seemed to me that raising a gun with bullets took only a little less effort than raising a gun with tranquilizer darts.

In my grief and horror at this needless destruction of animals in Ohio, I realized that human fear is the basis of our path of planetary destruction. We fear not having enough food, clothing, video games, electronic toys–money–and so we consume at alarming rates, at rates that are literally annihilating everything precious, everything sacred. And I’m including the human species as well.

Have you ever stopped and watched birds like pelicans feeding? Even with an abundance of food, they only take what fills their bellies. There’s no fish-bank or pantry in some posh pelican pad where catches are stored for days when there may be lack. They live so much in the present moment that there’s no stress over making sure they have more than the flock down the beach.

Kind reader, you might argue that there’s no higher brain function of reasoning and so of course pelicans and most other animals don’t project themselves out into the future. And I understand that; however, have you ever wanted the freedom to not be so consumed by your own consumption? The pelicans might have an answer to our path of self-destruction.

Two days ago I heard about a huge school of sharks that had been finned in a nature preserve off the coast of Columbia. People came into the protected waters and caught hundreds of sharks, cut their fins off and dropped them back overboard still alive and doomed to die. All for the Asian market demand for shark fin soup. Murdered for an unnecessary delicacy. I wept for those sharks and for the tigers, lions, cougars, bears and baboon….but mostly I grieved the ignorance and apathy that so many humans continue to exhibit toward each other, animal species and Earth itself.

A Carrie Newcomer song came to mind and I share part of it with you, dear reader and offer a nudge of encouragement and gratitude for your compassion and love shared with all life.

“I heard an owl call last night
Homeless and confused,
I stood naked and bewildered
By the evil people do.

Upon a hill there is a terrible sign
That tells the story of what darkness waits
When we leave the light behind.

I am a voice calling out
Across the great divide.
I am only one person
That feels they have to try.

Light every candle that you can
For we need some light to see.
In the face of deepest loss,
Treat each other tenderly.

The arms of God will gather in
Every sparrow that falls,
And makes no separation
Just fiercely loves us all.

“The arms of God will gather in, every sparrow that falls; And makes no separation, just fiercely loves us all.”

To find out more about my work, to order one of my books on the relationship we have with nature, please visit Turtle Island Adventures.