The Four-Day Weekend, Part 1

I picked up Debra at 3:55 AM on Friday morning, and we headed for Lugoff. Lex was waiting when we got there, and we started loading his car with all our equipment. We were on the road again before 5:00, heading to Florida. The three of us were taking our best shot to see the Greater Sandplover, a stray bird that normally lives in Asia and Africa. This individual is only the second ever recorded in North America, and we hoped it would still be there. Storms with gale-force winds and abundant rain earlier in the week had made finding the bird difficult for some other birders, and rainy, windy weather was still partly in the forecast.

At 10:15 we pulled into Hugenot Memorial Park and found a place to leave the car. (This is located east of Jacksonville, out on the coast of Duval County.) We grabbed our scopes, binoculars, raincoats, and started walking. Other birders were standing around a large group of mixed shorebirds, and we knew we were in the right spot. The bird had been cooperative all morning for those who were there earlier, so we had good hope. We didn’t have to wait. It was among several hundred plovers and sandpipers, but with a little pointing and scanning, we all picked it out and had leisurely, upclose scope views. That was nice. Here’s a picture of the scene (the Greater Sandplover is in this group, but too far for the camera to show detail):

We continued there for a few more hours, enjoying the bird and the people who came long distances to see it. One gentleman had just flown in from Rhode Island to see it; he liked watching the bird through the scope. As we stood there searching the birds for something different, a Red-necked Phalarope flew in, and we got great scope views of this normally pelagic species. That, also was a new one for me.

Lex

Debra

Lex and me

On the walk back to the car after noon, rain started, and wind pelted us with sand. We were gritty and soaked on the way to find something to eat. Not knowing the area, we solicited recommendations from the locals. Both people we asked said the Sandollar was the place to go. We did, and it was worth it. Debra tried the cashew-crusted curry grouper; Lex and I had grilled mahi with dill and caper sauce…all of it very good food!

I saw two guys come to the buffet line and recognized them as birders from Tampa who had shared part of the morning with us. I walked over to see what else they had found after we parted, and they told about finding Leach’s Storm-Petrels over the surf at Little Talbot State Park. That is another pelagic species not normally seen from land. So after finishing at the restaruant, we headed up A1A to Little Talbot.

I find it hard to take unblurred photos of armadillos; they’re deceptively quick.

If you are ever in the area, pay the small entrance fee and just drive through this unspoiled fragment of coastal Florida. It is a beautiful place. We parked and walked up onto one of the boardwalks so we could scan the ocean. After a little while I found dark slivers of movement cutting over the waves. As they came closer, even flying over the beach itself, we were able to get positive identification as Leach’s Storm-Petrels, my third new bird for the day. It has been a long time since I got three new birds in a single day east of Texas.

It was mid-afternoon, and we had seen what we came to see. So we drove back home. I only had two-and-a-half hours of sleep the previous night, but the adrenaline kept me going all day. We made the vehicle transfer back at Lex’s house, drove to Lancaster, dropped Debra off, transcribed my bird records, and I was in bed by 12:15. That was a great way to spend a Friday!

Two Minutes of Ocracoke Rain

Waking up this morning with a need to write, the blankets had a soothing weight, so I stayed where I was. The reading light clipped to the top of my notebook was a small halogen sun rising over the pillow. Today, I’m in my own bed, but exactly one year ago I was five days deep into my vacation on Ocracoke, and that has been on my mind. Searching for stashed inspiriation, I reached for my voice recorder and began listening to my own voice, my own collected thoughts. Clicking through the digital files, a different voice met my sleepy ears, and I recognized it as one of last October’s rain storms, recorded while I was writing on the porch of the Ocracoke rental house. That was the sound I needed to hear, and the flow began for the piece I was writing.

Here’s a wave to the friendly folks on the island. As my involvements keep me working this fine week, please enjoy some oysters at sunset for me.

October Eve

Notice, please, this change into the next grace.  It kisses those who do.  From new moon’s dry cool fire, soft air reaches across fields of weeds, touching skin, calling awake what dreams were dreamed when climate was less perfect.  Notice, and respond.  This is your time to live.

A Morning in Florida Last Week– from My Journal

I’m standing on the beach, looking onto the Gulf of Mexico from the shelf above surf reach. Breakfast will come later. Today’s primary amazement is out there in the clear green water. Countless tiny fish in thick schooling swarms pock the overhead view like shadows of clouds. They are too many and wonderful. Glass minnows, someone told me they were. Each group, some as big as a whale, moves slowly westward, like a dark furry amoeba.

For more than an hour, I’ve watched them, unmolested. Now some Brown Pelicans have begun to dip their faces full of them. (But that’s not how they feed. White Pelicans dip; Brown Pelicans plunge. Am I seeing a new behavior?) Black Skimmers and Black Terns cruise the plenty.

Being here in the presence of all this is why one vacates. These clouds and this wind pull at me, tugging at a primal gear within me like the gravity of a flywheel. On this beach of empty decision I look out into the doorway of storms and imagine I smell morning glories. It’s the time of year for it, but not here. Sequences and cycles overlap one another’s realities when the right breeze rustles one’s shirt.

I need to be here more than my life can allow. The edge of storms… The edge of migrations and other soul movements… Sand that scrapes away the dead layers, exfoliating… Moisture on the wind, hydrating. It doesn’t matter whether the gild is tarnished or the tarnish is gilded — scrape it away! Stand still in a moment when everything else is moving, and re-become. Air, clouds, birds, water, sand, words. Be there, until standing beside you is one who knows and loves your kinetic stillness without needing you to advise her why.

Elijah knew something about this, I think. Foam needs to form and settle, sometimes. Clouds need to gather and rain.

For Those Who Like a Little Symmetry in Their Balance

A Blog Moment.1

A wonderful thing happened, recently. My good friend Andy, of 2006 Arizona bird trip fame, recently got married. Way to go! But that’s not the exciting part. (Actually, it probably was the exciting part, but there’s more.)

One day his wife, Sandra, was searching the web for cactus-related articles — doesn’t everybody? — and she found a link to something called an Eastern Cactus Nerd. Curious, she followed the link and was quite stunned to see a picture of her new husband smiling contentedly from the middle of a cactus patch.

Although I had alerted Andy to the presence of my blog, he had never searched it, and so was unaware of the photo. He was amazed that, of the countless items on the internet that might have been found, she found a picture of him that neither of them would have guessed was there. Cool and fun stuff!

Wildlife at Forty-Acre Rock

I was helping two of my college students video some scenes for their creative video of rules for the upcoming youth retreat. While there, I went into one of the caves to look around, and here are the residents I found. Across the top of the cave and in crevices throughout were these crickets. They looked like camel crickets, but I seem to remember there is also a cave cricket species– don’t know if they live around here or not.

And walking back to the car, I found this prickly pear cactus that was in bloom.

Beauty takes so many different forms. I’m thankful that the Creator of it all also saw fit to create capacity to notice and enjoy it.