Gulf of Mexico Archives - Page 9 of 35 -

Working Together

By Simone Lipscomb | May 1, 2016

“Sea turtle nesting season has begun?” the gentleman asked. “Yes. Today’s the first day and isn’t it lovely,” I replied. We conversed a few moments and then he walked east, I walked west and each of us continued our tasks. He with his trash bag and pick-up stick to aid in his cleaning the beach, me looking for sea turtle tracks with my camera and green Share the Beach shirt that identifies me as a sea turtle volunteer.

What a glorious morning. Not just because of the soft sunrise, gentle breeze and waves pushing on to the shore. For the first time in four years there were no tents, chairs, fishing rods or other entanglement hazards (for wildlife) left on the beach. The new effort by the cities of Gulf Shores and Orange Beach has turned progressively trashed beaches into place that felt welcoming to humans and wildlife. Leave Only Footprints!

As I continued my walk, looking for sea turtle tracks near the wrack line, I thought how wonderful it felt to have so many groups and individuals on board to help our beaches and the wildlife that inhabits them. The US Fish & Wildlife Service, Bon Secour National Wildlife Refuge, Cities of Gulf Shores and Orange Beach, volunteers who walk all Alabama coastline from May 1st to September 1st, individuals who use their morning stroll to clean up debris left or washed in by the tide. It takes all of us working together to make it work.

The dunes are building with sea oats that the city planted a couple years ago. These small plants are anchors for small dunes to build in front of the primary dune line. People are working together. It felt like balance returning to our beaches.

This is good news. This is what it takes to make positive change….working together.

Night Before Christmas….From the Reef

By Simone Lipscomb | December 24, 2015

Night Before Christmas…Turtle Island Style

Adapted by Simone Lipscomb

From Clement Clarke Moore’s Poem

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Coral Park

Not a fish was stirring, not even a shark.

The stockings were hung on the brain coral with care,

In hopes that Santa Loggerhead soon would be there;

The Parrotfish were nestled in cocoon beds,

While visions of candied algae swam in their heads;

And daddy under his coral ledge, and I in my gap,

Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap,

When out from the deep there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the reef to see what was the matter.

Away to the drop-off I swam a fast clip,

Right through Tube Sponges and over Sea Whips.

The moon on the breast of sand, white like snow,

Gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,

When, what my wondering eyes saw from the dark,

A Giant Clam and eight big Bull Sharks,

With an ancient old driver, who looked well-fed,

I knew for certain, it was Santa Loggerhead.

More rapid than Barracuda’s his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

“Now Billy! Now Bruzer! Now, Bobby and Barry!

On Betty! On Beatrice! On Emily and Mary!

To the top of the reef! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away Dash away all.”

As palm leaves that before the wild hurricanes fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the reef-top the bully’s did tow,

A clam full of goodies and Santa Loggerhead, Oh!

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the reef

The gnashing and gnawing of all those shark’s teeth.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the reef Santa Loggerhead swam with a bound.

He was old and wrinkled from head to flipper,

His shell full of barnacles, but he couldn’t look hipper.

A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a diver just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled, so ancient and wise!

His head was enormous, his shell a huge size!

His beaked mouth was strong, I’m here to tell,

His overall look was really quite swell.

The stump of a Tube Sponge he held in his beak,

And Blue Chromis encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad shell and quite a round belly,

That shook, when he laughed like a Cannonball Jelly.

He was ancient and huge, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a turn of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying a flipper aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, off the reef he rose;

He sprang to his clam sleigh, to his team said, “GO!”

And away they all swam like a five knot flow.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he swam out of sight,

“Happy holidays to all, and to all a good night.”

The New Normal

By Simone Lipscomb | September 2, 2015

The usual situation of having at least three books going at once gave a strange coincidence last week. On the sofa I was reading, Telling Our Way to the Sea, by Aaron Hirsh. The book is about two college professors who take students to the Sea of Cortez via the Baja Peninsula. The quote that caught my eye? “We live amid wreckage yet we hardly notice that something has changed. Why are we so blind to the destruction–so forgetful of what was here? Knowing only the natural world we’ve encountered in the short interval of a life, we fail to notice the substantial transformations wrought by previous generations; and so we over look the absence of all that was already gone when we ourselves first arrived on the scene.”

Then migration to the bedroom and the book on the bedside table about the Amazon River, Mother of God, by Paul Rosolie, presents this quote on the same evening: “I have witnessed a kind of generational amnesia to ecological abundance. It is a sinister phenomenon whereby members of each generation seem to accept what they see around them as the way things ought to be. It is a problem of shifting baselines, a lowering of the standards by which we judge the condition of our environment. Over generations and across continents, this collective inability to accurately assess environmental change has become a serious problem.”

From May 1st through August 31st I walk one morning a week at sunrise looking for sea turtle tracks–evidence of a nest—as a sea turtle volunteer. The mile and a half section I walk begins at the wildlife refuge and goes eastward. The first part is in an exclusive, gated development but it isn’t immune to litter. And not just a plastic bottle here and there. Metal tent frames are abandoned here just like all along our Alabama beaches. People leave tents, ice chests, beer bottles and cans, plastic water bottles, chairs, plastic toys, cigarette butts, kites and string, fireworks, balloon remnants, diapers, condoms….it’s an endless list of nasty human waste and the weird thing is people walk by like it’s not even there.

Photograph Summer 2010...Shell Oil — Photograph Summer 2010…Shell Oil

Tar balls, oil containers, gas containers, antifreeze containers….doesn’t seem to faze our tourists or those that live on the beach.

Drilling in ocean water too deep to be safe…drilling in sensitive environments like the Arctic…fracking shale near homes, schools, playgrounds…clearcutting forests….overfishing…dumping sewage in the sea…violence against the planet, wildlife, humans….yet we seem numb, immune.

Are we so used to trash, pollution and rape of the planet as the norm it no longer affects us? S.N.A.F.U. I suppose. Seriously S.N.A.F.U. Sadly so. I don’t like this new normal. How about you?

Photograph I took Summer 2010. It reminds me of a woman's body and so I call it the Rape of Mother Earth — *Photograph I took Summer 2010 during the BP Deepwater Horizon Disaster. It reminds me of a woman’s body and so I call it the Rape of Mother Earth*

Happy Birthday!

By Simone Lipscomb | August 8, 2015

Loggerhead sea turtle hatchling from a few years ago.... — *Loggerhead sea turtle hatchling from a few years ago*….

The stars twinkled brightly and the majestic sweep of the Milky Way hung in the heavens over the Gulf of Mexico. I sat away from the crowd gathered and gazed into that un-ending cosmos whose majesty fills me with awe.

The sand at the nest site had been sinking steadily and underground sounds almost constant since our team began arriving at 7pm. Beach visitors were drawn to the imminent event–the hatching of a nest of loggerhead sea turtles.

Our awesome tech genius team member constructed a system of monitoring that allows people with smartphones to watch via infrared video and to listen via an FM radio signal. It helps us monitor the nest without disturbing the hard-working babies and gives everyone who wishes it an intimate and lovely connection to one of nature’s most incredible miracles.

The din of happy and celebratory visitors started to wear on me as I treasure these hatchings for the Great Mystery they convey. Thus, I found myself alone in the midst of many humans, unplugged from gadgets and gazing at stars. Anchored in the beauty of the night and the impending crawl of baby sea turtles to the sea, I touched that place of deep peace within.

Then, after three hours since our arrival at the nest, the first baby began the long walk to the Gulf. I walked alongside and made sure none of the feet trampled her if she strayed. At the end of the light-shielding trench the two-foot drop had been made into a sand slide and I watched as the little loggerhead slid down and took her first swim into the mighty sea.

Phosphorescent bits lit the sand and twinkled, mirroring the stars spread in the vast sky. Children, with noses as close as was allowed, gazed in the darkness at the tiny forms making their way to their Mother…the Great Mother of us all.

One-by-one, 66 of the 115 eggs laid and magically transformed in 54 days to living beings, were embraced by the sea.

After the main boil occurred and I was driving home in the late hour before midnight and reflected on the day. What was this strange timing of events that brought the birth of these sea turtles and the birth of my newest endeavor of planetary love to the same birth date? Shipment of the book came three weeks early. Due the end of August, I received a notice last week they would be shipped on August 7th. Then yesterday morning…the 7th…I got a call from the shipping company saying they were being delivered that day. It seemed determined to arrive on August 7th. Like the baby turtles….some force unknown and little-understood triggered their hatching…and the arrival of the book.

It may not seem like a big deal to anyone but me. But as I sat on the beach last night, gazing into the sky and pondering the timing of events in life, it held meaning for me. The birth of Manatee Mindfulness shares a birthday with 72 loggerhead sea turtle friends (more came after I left). I can’t help but launch this book into the world with tremendous joy and celebration.

Welcome to the world baby turtles! Welcome to the world wildlife book….may you spread joy, love, compassion and wisdom to everyone you meet…just like the sea turtles who share your birthday.

To order your copy of Manatee Mindfulness and Other Wildlife Wisdom use PayPal and send $16 plus $4.95 shipping (US….other countries contact me for shipping) to simonelipscomb@me.com The book arrived so early it’s not on my website yet…but soon I’ll have my website updated so you can order there where shipping and tax will be calculated for you. Thanks!!

Can Science, Common Sense & Compassion Co-Exist?

By Simone Lipscomb | June 7, 2015

The shell was still warm from saltwater. The perfectly formed brown and cream-colored swirls of calcium carbonate dried quickly in my hand. The empty shell was an unexpected gift, a reminder of the beauty and mystery of life in the sea.

I walked eastward in the pre-dawn light searching along the high-tide line for sea turtle tracks. The calm, clear water of the Gulf of Mexico reflected soft, pastel light that illuminated my early-morning walk with exquisite colors that made me yearn for my big Nikon…left behind on this sea turtle patrol.

The only tracks I discovered were those of a four-wheeled type driven by a biologist and crew who have been studying sea turtles in Alabama since the BP Deepwater Horizon oil spill in 2010. Over the past five years they have satellite tagged, drawn blood samples, conducted DNA tests and other measurable markers on our sea turtles in an effort to study where they feed and live…and probably gather a little data for evidence in the BP Deepwater Horizon legal case.

A report compiled by the Ocean Conservancy in 2014 stated that 1149 sea turtles were collected during the BP oil spill from April 30, 2010 to April 12, 2011. Of those 613 were dead. Out of the total number of sea turtles collected, 809 were Kemps Ridley’s…a highly endangered species. And 481 of those were dead. “Tens of thousands of sea turtles were located in coastal waters within the surface oil extent and were exposed to oil.” There were 278 sea turtle nests relocated from the Northern Gulf Coast that produced 14,700 hatchlings.

So there is a need to study sea turtles in our area and while the study sounds great, there are some things to consider. First, the satellite tags are attached to the shell with epoxy which gets quite hot as it hardens. There are nerve endings in the shell or carapace so sea turtles so they actually feel the burning of the epoxy as it hardens. When a female has completed her exhausting nesting process–heaving her 350 pound body out of the water and crawling in soft sand, digging a hole with her rear flippers, laying maybe 120 eggs, covering the hole and crawling back towards the water–she is corralled by two-legged beings, ‘burned’ with epoxy, poked with needles and held captive until the ‘glue’ hardens and the scientists have everything they need from her. Then she is released and must crawl back into the water…after being exhausted from nesting and ‘harassment’ by the team.

Harassment, in terms of the US Fish and Wildlife Service, is any human-generated behavior that causes a wild animal to change his or her behavior…including feeding, watering, touching, chasing, injuring, changing habitat, etc.

No matter how much good the data does the scientists…or sea turtles…it is a very stressful process for the mother turtles.

According to a report released by the biologist, they have tagged 59 females (that’s perhaps 15% of the Northern Gulf of Mexico population…a large sample for scientists). They concluded that one-third of the small and declining population live year-round in the Northern Gulf of Mexico. They want to continue tracking and studying sea turtles to test whether they revisit the same feeding areas and this gives new possibilities for management and conversation practices.

What if 15% of the total population…the tagged turtles…. are in some way damaged from the very process that is supposed to help the species? How many tagged sea turtles is enough? How much data is enough?

I have attended two of the debriefings done by the scientists after their tagging season here and saw how the data and the drive for more data seemed to overshadow the species they intend to protect. Watching the scientists light up when describing numbers or capturing male loggerheads by jumping on their backs while the turtles are swimming… bothered me. Is collection of data the prize, the goal? How does long-term concern of the individually tagged animals enter into the equation? It’s easy for humans to say, it doesn’t hurt the turtles, but where is long-term research and evidence to back-up that statement?

The government won’t take action against business unless there are very specific and detailed data showing how the species is being harmed from corporate functions (fossil fuel industry as one example, commercial fisheries is another). So scientists have to focus on numbers…the only thing the government seems to understand….or maybe the only thing scientists understand. It could be very easy to lose track of the health of individual animals while wanting to save an entire species. But this only supposition on my part.

For many years I have volunteered with wildlife biologists and most are very dedicated, caring individuals. I have had discussions with some of them about the issues addressed in this commentary. I hope they can understand how their actions might look to those of motivated to act solely out of compassion and love.

Weather in which northern flying squirrels are removed from nesting boxes and processed for data

Waking an endangered northern flying squirrel in the high altitudes of the Blue Ridge Mountains during intense cold to weigh them, measure their back leg and tag them seems edgy. But they must have their numbers to justify continued endangered status. I assisted with this research and it bothered me because it seemed to endanger an endangered species…to collect data to justify its status as endangered. (Twisted??)

Sea turtles here in Alabama have been poked, prodded, tagged now for the past several years. Can’t they just be left to nest in peace? But no, numbers are needed…more, more, more numbers.

While earning my undergraduate degree at Auburn University I took a wildlife conservation class and learned the history of this endeavor. Science has evolved through the years and thankfully moved to a more compassionate way of studying species, but I think it has a long way to go.

My theory: Scientists become hyper-focused on numbers and data because that’s the only way they can get the money to fund more studies to prove to the government that the species is endangered, threatened or healthy. I can imagine that their original intention to help wildlife must become a frustration to them as they have to work within a broken system focused on money, money…money.

Last night I was reading a chapter in a book by Jim Nollman. It was about his time spent with orca in Buddy’s Cove, British Columbia. He describes the non-stop ‘researchers’ who visit the whales and spend hours each day in small boats chasing them or the film crews who are equally aggressive in their pursuit of orca. Their justification is to help orca but in the truest sense, this is harassment. And the government issues permits to allow it.

I totally understand the need to study wild animals in order to provide data that gives proof to the government of what’s supposedly happening so that laws and rules and status changes can be implemented. But a red flag seems appropriate to raise when the welfare of the species they are trying to ‘protect’ comes into question from the research practices. Animals harassed long-term due to research become stressed. Perhaps we need to look at the practices of science that insist on data to prove anything. So it’s not as simple as finger-pointing at the government or corporations or scientists. Perhaps the process of research has never really taken deeper issues of quality of life and respect into consideration.

Can science, common sense and compassion coexist? It is a question yet to be answered. The sea holds many mysteries. Humans who think they can unravel the mysteries without common sense and compassion will never fully understand the very thing they think they are protecting. I wonder if some scientists feel as if they have to sell their soul, little-by-little, as they work within such a warped model to protect wildlife that live in environments highly damaged due to human exploitation.

Humans can justify just about anything in the name of science. Governments can refuse to take protective action unless there are years of data. Corporations know this and profit from it. And what about the wildlife? Indeed…what about the wildlife.