birds Archives -

The Sacred in the Small

By Simone Lipscomb | April 13, 2014

Yesterday the river was clear enough from recent rains to get out and enjoy a nice SUP board paddle. Recent heavy rains had shifted a downed tree almost completely out of the way and created a nicer, whiter beach at my usual put-in spot in our neighborhood. After a leisurely warm-up paddle I was ready to turn on the turbo when I spotted a mother wood duck and her brood of over ten babies.

Who could pass up such a delightful surprise? I stood on my board watching as the little ones scooted behind their mom…peep-peep-peeping. Oh…it was great to be back on the river!

It was a quiet morning with only a few boats so stillness prevailed. I saw the pine tree at Devil’s Hole had three great blue heron nests in it this year instead of one. Two of the nests had the tall gray-blue birds standing in them. I sigh now remembering the joy that sight produced within me.

And so I continued downriver a bit and decided to turn and head upriver. I had to stop and greet the osprey pair and watch as one of the parents chased a large crow away from the tall nest. Across from the osprey family a large group of turkey buzzards were perched on the tin roof of a boathouse. I could hear their long nails scraping against the metal and even though I’m not afraid of them, it sort of creeped me out. They eat carrion…dead things…and so I felt a little squeamish as I kept an eye on them and told them, “Not yet boys. Not yet.”

When I got to the big bend in the river just past the Devil’s Hole, I spied a tiny baby turtle attempting to climb up on a small, round piece of floating driftwood. He kept spinning it. So I gently reached and caught him and placed him on my board. I gave him a ride to the nearest pile of floating vegetation near the river bank.

As I passed under the bridge and then through the Cold Hole I neared the narrow stretch of river that would lead me home. I heard a peep, peep, peep. Hmmm…where was that coming from, I wondered. And then, as my eyes scanned the direction of the sweet sound, I saw a single wood duck baby. Mama and siblings were apparently gone. I sat on my board and listened carefully and watched for any sign of movement along the opposite bank but saw nothing.

So I sat with this amazing, fuzzy, precious duckling and waited. I talked with her, suggested she stay clear of bass and keep on peeping for her mom. My heart ached as I could sense the anxiety of this small, sacred life…desperately wanting the comfort of her mother and brothers and sisters. I gave her space and left at one point to paddle back toward the bridge looking and then upriver a bit but never saw a glimpse of mama wood duck.

With a deep sadness that echoed throughout my being and out into the world, I paddled onward. Thirty minutes I waited, watched and searched but knew that the best chance this young one had was to survive long enough for mom to return and gather her into the fold once more.

Innocent beings, the smallest of the small, touch me and create such compassion and honestly, such heartbreak. I was telling a friend and fellow bird-lover about the baby duck and how heart-broken I was that I couldn’t do anything but witness the baby’s dilemma. He reminded me of the cost we pay when we are empathic. It hurts to care…and yet it is a reminder that I have such capacity for love and compassion. We all do.

Driving back from Gulf Shores today I saw a tiny inch worm crawling on my leg. I carefully placed my finger in front of him and offered safety until we arrived home. This tiny, amazing worm also reminded me that all life is sacred. All is worth protecting. And yes…all life is related…connected. The smallest creatures remind us of this truth.

Paradise in the Palm of My Hand*

By Simone Lipscomb | February 11, 2014

This morning while traveling along Highway 135 through Gulf State Park I came upon a tiny bird in the road. A larger bird was standing next to it and so my first thought was a baby bird had flown into the road. I slammed on the brakes and pulled over and by that time realized it wasn’t the correct season for baby birds to be flying.

The spillway where I stopped is in a large curve and as soon as I opened the door I heard a truck coming. I started waving frantically and the driver stopped. I ran out into the road and scooped up the little warbler. Since it was raining I jumped back in my car and simply held the little gal. The worst thing with injury is shock..and cold.

After a few minutes I opened my hand and honestly, it didn’t look very promising. The bird’s neck was okay but it was lethargic. Since it was 47 degrees and wet, keeping my little friend warm was imperative so I sat and simply held her cradled snugly in my hand. I felt slight movements and took this as a good sign. I have held far too many birds that passed away quietly in my hands after hitting a window or being hit by an automobile. And the little yellow-rumped warblers are notorious for darting out in front of traffic.

Twenty minutes passed and I opened my hand again wanting to get a better assessment of her injuries. She appeared more alert and even clumsily hopped off my hand onto the floor. I carefully gathered her in my hand and placed her on the dash. She sat there staring for a while and finally began to look around more..she looked awake! I opened the passenger window and let her feel the cooler air.

Finally, I picked her up and let her perch on my finger. I moved my hand toward the window and whoosh….off she flew. Strong little wings carried her to a bush not far from my car. I sat for a few moments longer observing, making sure she was okay.

*Will Kimbrough wrote a new song called Paradise. The first time I heard him perform it at the Frog Pond it deeply touched me. It’s about this area along the Gulf Coast in which I was born and, after twenty years away, am happy to call home once more. As I sat and held the tiny warbler in my hand I thought of Will’s song and the line…”paradise in the palm of your hand.’

She left a little present for me on my dash...

I felt the connection to all life here as the precious bird sat in my palm…animals, plants, salt water, river mud…people. I feel so blessed, so full of gratitude for everyone and everything that makes this home to me.

Outsmarting the Wind

By Simone Lipscomb | April 18, 2013

At 6.15am my eyes popped open and I evaluated the wind situation quickly by glancing out the French doors. Perfectly calm…for now. I knew that sunrise would bring more wind. It is normal for winds to increase as the earth heats during the day but today–when the forecast called for 15 to 25 mph winds with 30 mph gusts–I knew my window for SUP boarding on the river (comfortably) was small. So I raced to get ready and was on the water by 6.45am.

*Upriver, where I live, the river is narrow and calm*

Paddling so early almost insures a visit with the river before human activity begins, while it is quiet and peaceful. The two wood duck couples I greeted were not happy about the intrusion on their morning ritual. But it was glorious and I sang apologies for my disturbing their morning.

It was mostly calm in the narrow part of the river with ripples from gusts barely registering on the water’s surface. Green was exploding around me, reflecting in the water and filling my vision with beauty. As I warmed up I felt my relief to be back on the water. Joy at feeling my muscles find their strength. Delight as I got to my cardio pace. YES!

Mullet were splashing so close to me that I wondered if there was such a thing as mullet armor or if I could invent it. Humorous perhaps but some of those fish get ambitious in their leaps. No joke!

Great blue herons fished peacefully along the banks. Green herons squawked, annoyed at my intrusion. The large pond slider on the log under the bridge was ousted by the tiny baby turtle. Both accepted me as a friend and showed no protest at my passing.

When I got to Bemis Bay, where the river opens up into a larger body of water, the wind was churning and gave me a good push. How nice to have this help. But I knew that upon return the wind would be gathering strength and I’d be facing it. But it was so worth the effort to be there, to be present on the Magnolia River.

On I paddled, now pushed by the gaining wind and happy to be sliding through a spring-time sunrise on my board, my ‘friend.’

When I got to my two mile marker–a tree that leans over the river, across from where the osprey perches in the cypress tree–I turned around and retrieved my water bottle to replenish my fluids. As I floated, beauty of the wild part of the river tapped at my heart and I returned the greeting by whispering words of gratitude.

The paddle back up river presented a kaleidoscope of patterns. Colors of gray, blue, white and green danced on the contours of small waves and I was lost in that world of shape and hue and wished I could paint what I saw. Then the sun broke through but it was a white sun, more like a moon glade and I paddled into the shimmering silver sunrise and gusting, whipping wind. I was sweating from the pace set but grateful to feel so present, so here in this body, and so surrounded by nature at its finest along the Alabama Gulf Coast.

Later in the day the blow lived up to the forecast. So glad was I that I had almost outsmarted the wind. Never would there be reason to claim a true one-upping something so big as the wind as there is always tomorrow….

It is so calm upriver....such a lovely way to end my workout and morning visit with the river and its residents — *It is so calm upriver….such a lovely way to end my workout and morning visit with the river and its residents*

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.