wildlife Archives - Page 30 of 38 -

Breadcrumbs for Myself

By Simone Lipscomb | April 11, 2013

Today I was sorting a pile of stuff in a wooden tray on my desk and found several little slips of paper with ideas scribbled hurriedly, inspiration run amok. I do that quite often when I am concentrating on something else and inspiration hits. Rather than lose it I jot it down and ‘file’ it in my to-do box. And these little pieces of paper sift through the stack and end up at the bottom until they are excavated by a mad fit of cleaning.

Yesterday I started reading a book called, Beautiful Whale. It is the story of Bryant Austin who was touched (literally) by a enormous whale with her pectoral flipper (a 15 foot long, two ton flipper) on his shoulder during an intensely life-changing moment. He tells how he vowed then to photograph whales and create life-size prints of them to help raise awareness of their beauty and value. This meant getting very close to them to capture details that are impossible to capture in photographs underwater from a distance. It also meant building computers that could handle the file sizes. And selling everything he owned to make this happen.

As I read Bryant’s story and viewed the amazing photographs in this very over-sized book, I felt so humbled by his dedication. And I found myself evaluating my own journey and feeling off course a bit…as if I’m not really giving my full attention to my task…whatever it is. And so I felt frustration. What am I doing?

One treasure I found this afternoon while sorting through the pile on my desk was written in early January. “If I truly viewed this Earth as the Kingdom of God, would I not drop everything to document this place of wonder? This is my path, my journey for the next year–to fully immerse myself in the beauty and joy of this place we call Earth!” BAM!

A direct answer to my frustration last evening. And another, more recent, scrap of paper was something my mother included in my birthday card. It was a short piece on the earth being the Kingdom of God and how we are stewards and caretakers. When I get the same message two or three times in such a short time I pay attention. Einstein said coincidences are God’s way of remaining anonymous.

The little notes I write to my future self surface exactly when I most need them. They serve as breadcrumbs along the path that nurture me when I find myself needing sustenance for my dreams and ideas.

Love’s Grooves

By Simone Lipscomb | April 8, 2013

Each morning, as I walk my SUP board to the small river beach, I greet a beautiful, old cedar tree that stands on the bank. Its gnarled trunk is scarred with places where limbs used to be and the deep fissures in the bark invite my fingers to explore them and touch the texture with gentle regard.

This morning after paddling I walked my board up the trail and felt a gentle nudge from the grandmother tree to come back and visit. After settling my board on the grass, I returned and placed my hands on the trunk and looked up. What a massive tree, soaring far into the sky. Usually I see only the section I pass by, rarely stopping to notice the entirety of the tree.

We do that to ourselves and others. We focus on one small part of ourselves…normally some behavior or personality flaw we don’t particularly like…and obsess about that. Or with other humans we see something we don’t like and dismiss the person without taking time to view the whole person and their many good qualities.

If I only looked superficially at the cedar tree I might say it has a lot of scars and bumps and imperfections. But when I step back and gaze at its entirety I see such magnificent beauty and oddly enough, it is the flaws make it beautiful.

In my first book, Sharks On My Fin Tips, I wrote a story about my grandfather and the depth of love’s grooves worn into our hearts by those we love. In taking a moment to visit the tree today I thought of that quote. People, wildlife, oceans, rivers, bays…all the things I have loved in my life have made an impression on me. There may be scars but mostly the memory of interacting with loved ones–people and animals–and wild animals and places has worn beautiful groves into my heart, that will remain forever.

Like the cedar tree’s beauty, our beauty comes not from perfection but from the imperfections we grow through and overcome and the impression love makes on our hearts as we risk opening them to love others.

April Fool?

By Simone Lipscomb | April 2, 2013

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.

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.

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?

To Be a Bromeliad Farmer….or Vulture Goddess?

By Simone Lipscomb | March 24, 2013

This is NOT representative of this morning's behavior from my darlings. — *This is NOT representative of this morning’s behavior from my darlings.*

I awakened to soft thuds overhead. Cat play on carpet. I had been dreaming of a white vulture soaring overhead and waked in the middle of the dream. I lay there half awake wondering the meaning of such an unfamiliar symbol. Heady thoughts so early in the morning and soon interrupted by the thundering of cats down the stairway.

Gracie practiced her balance beam act on the footboard while Stanley practiced his gymnastic moves above me on the headboard. The hawk screeching outside my home and the combined acrobatics of my cat companions called me to get up and check the weather forecast.

Last night I read where high winds were predicted for today so when it was quiet outside I literally ran to put on my SUP boarding shorts and shirt and was out the door before coffee. I could smell the salt marsh far upriver so the wind announced itself with gentleness, prior to anything more than a whisper. By the time I reached the downriver side of Bemis Bay the ripples began. As I rounded the corner at Washer Woman’s Point, I saw and felt the beginnings of the ‘serious’ wind…but that wasn’t what really caught my attention.

Perched on a cypress tree was a beautiful vulture, wings spread, heart facing the morning sun. Her wing feathers were white and so I remembered the dream. But I had the rest of my four mile paddle to complete and lucky for me, had a downwinder on the way back up river.

My experimental wall garden..the 2 x 4 will be painted once it is dried — *My experimental wall garden..the 2 x 4’s will be painted once they are dry*

The rest of the day was spent putting together a project I’ve been dreaming of for weeks–designing and building a system to grow veggies and herbs on the east side of my home. Literally…on my home. It’s very sunny there, while the rest of my yard isn’t and the garage gets very hot in the summer so I wanted to install some sort of green wall to see if it would keep my garage from boiling during July and August.

*My new bromeliad friends make the courtyard an even happier place*

I would rather grow flowers because I simply have a thing for them. But my farmer genes nudge me to try my hand once again at growing food. My dad and grandfather would probably laugh at my vertical garden. And honestly, I bought more flowers—some outrageous bromeliads. I can’t help it. Can’t I live off of beauty? Do I really have to eat?

All through the day of building, possibly cursing at trying to hold 8 foot 2 x 4’s up while screwing them into the wall, attaching the boxes, planting the plants into the boxes….I kept thinking about the white vulture. When I finished my farmer-girl activities I ran upstairs and looked up ‘white vulture’ on my trusty internet search engine.

It is a symbol of the feminine in Egyptian mythology. In Pueblo mythology it is a symbol of restored harmony that had been broken. It is a symbol of the return of the self. (Pause…..and repeat please).

Photo of me probably 17 years ago.... — *Photo of me probably 17 years ago….*

How appropriate. How perfect. Since my father’s illness and death (when I was 21) I have been in a series of relationships with no gap between them. Recently I have done some deep healing as I find myself alone for the first time in 32 years. And I wanted to be alone as I found myself repeating the same old patterns. Sick of myself, I journeyed out on my own to heal. To grow. I couldn’t repeat the familiar behaviors anymore. It was deadening.

At this almost year mark of my time with only me and my baggage, I find myself dreaming of white vultures and realizing that I am discovering who I am…I had never given myself space or time to figure that out and in some ways had remained the wounded young woman throughout my relationships. How appropriate that in my time of conscious healing, the goddess of feminine energy pays me a dreamtime visit.

After all these years I am finally healing the old wounds. I have no idea where this new-found wholeness will take me but I’m guessing it has something to do with growing flowers or morphing into a vulture….once I figure it out I’ll let you know.