Untamable II

As we walked and waded, I told Liz about an amazing animal behaviorist named Turid Rudgrass. Turid discovered a universal animal language called "Calming Signals." She teaches a series of over thirty body postures that all animals understand. By using these signals, it is possible for humans to get extremely close to wild animals without alarming them.

After my little lesson, I took Liz to a favorite little spot in the springs, and suggested we lay on the sand and imagine images in the clouds.

In reality, I had a hidden agenda.

I wanted her to be quiet and still. I pulled out my camera and the oatmeal cookies that I had so carefully packed in plastic that morning.



It didn't take long for the Giant Florida Otter to appear. I nugged Liz and gave her a cookie.
"Use the calming signals, wade on in, and give him a piece of cookie."
She literally quivered with excitement. Then used the postures, and eased into the water. The Otter read her signals as non threatening, accepted the cookies, and began to swim circles around her, doing flips and spins for more.

For almost an hour, I sat on the beach taking photos of the playful pair. Liz would go underwater, and the Otter would follow, then he would spin, and she would follow. It was nature's ballet.

Then suddenly, without notice, the Otter disappeared.

"Did I do something to scare him?" Liz asked.
I paused to assess the situation. Something was amiss.

"The birds stopped singing." I said as I motioned for Liz to move closer.
Then I saw it.




"We're being watched." I whispered.
Liz followed my gaze, and froze dead in her tracks.

"What do we do?" She mouthed like a silent ventriloquist.
The panther was intent on us, crouched down and quivering. The Cat's message was clear, and it was NOT a calming signal!

"Don't look at her. Keep your eyes and body in a submissive posture. Let's just act like a couple of manatees, and float on by...Just like a natural part of the environment."

"At least cats don't like water."
"House cats don't, but Florida Panthers are excellent swimmers."

"Do they eat manatees?"

"Good point. Be a log. Float away like a lazy ol' log. And whatever you do, don't think about fear. She'll sense it."

Slowly we sunk into the current, gaining distance, nearing the bend. When, to our astonishment, we heard the cry of kittens.

Kittens!

We could hardly believe it. Our eyes locked in silent amazement, as we drifted away from her den. When we reached a safe distance, I hid behind a tree and took a slew of pictures, loving my 20X zoom like never before.

"Man, the gang is NEVER going to believe this!" Liz squealed.

**************************************************************

She was right. They didn't. When we got back to the hotel, I discovered that I had forgotten to put the card reader in the camera that morning. We had nothing but a good fish story to tell.

"Oh well, at least we have the memory." Liz said sympathetically.

"Yeah." I sighed. "We'll always have that."

The Untamable Land

After my visit with the Kestrels at the Wildlife Center, I went back to the hotel and found Liz at the bar, with her nose in a book, as usual.

"Feel like an adventure?"
"Sure." She replied.

I led her down the beach, past all the long rows of oil covered tourists, frying themselves like bacon in the sun. We turned and headed into the jungle, to the places the snowbirds dare not tread.



Liz walked with trepidation through the heavy brush, and with good reason. They do not call Florida "The Untamable Land" for nothing.



In moments, we found ourselves in a completely different world, surrounded by Mother Natures glory.



Wildlife was everywhere. Our path led to one of Florida's majestic river springs. Florida has more class one springs than any other place in the world. Fresh crystal clear water bubbles up from deep underground, and remains a constant 72 degrees all year. They flow to the ocean, mixing with the sea, forming a brackish mix of fresh and salt that can support all forms of marine life.

We waded, and swam, and swung on the vines like playful children. Our spirits glowed brighter than the noon day sun.



We came upon a baby manatee and her mother. They floated lazily without a care in the world, and we followed their lead, and did the same.



We saw fish in every shape size and color imaginable, and did our best to identify each species, but in the end, we could not, so we had big fun creating names of our own.

It was a magic moment.

Pale in comparison to what happened next...

Look at This!

My good friend over at Decadent Tranquility has created a wonderful image of Kestrels that has sent my spirit flying!

Thanks Tree for creating one more example of syncronicity in my life!

Melancholy Moments

Melancholy moments,
Old age creeping in,
Feeling bland and tired,
Golden linings turn to tin.

The American Kestrel

The American Kestrel

Watch the video

This is some basic info on The American Kestrel, with a lesson on Positive reenforcment and animal handling from The Intuitive, Carol Mock.

Gooma and Nana Ruth

My grandmothers were polar opposites. Nana Ruth was a petite woman who decorated her little surburban ranch house in the French Rococo style. She had a closet full of fancy boxes filled with decorative hats for every occasion. She had a drawer filled with monogramed silk hankercheifs, and every ilk of ladies gloves. When we would visit on holidays, she would take us shopping for new clothes, then parade us around town to the ladies of the country club.

She always had a batch of slice-n-bake cookies ready, and kept me busy with a lovely little china tea set.

Gooma on the other hand, was a real card. She taught me to play poker in her breakfast nook when I was still in diapers. Her house smelled of fried chicken, musty books, and flowers. Gooma was a nurse who spent most of her career working with babies. She always wanted us around. I think I spent more of my childhood at her house then I did at my own home. I spent hours sitting at the piano with her singing songs like "Bill Bailey won't you Please come Home" and "Down in the Red River Valley." She taught me to sing. She told me stories. She taught me to read. She taught me gardening, first aid, and fishing.

Fishing is all about patience, you know; A tough lesson for a little wiggle worm like me, but one I learned well.

I remember catching 114 bluegill in one day, and counting them all as we gently released them. I remember falling into Whetstone Casting Pond, and emerging with a baby snapping turtle latched on to my shoe. We took the Turtle home, and Gooma told me that it would let go of my keds when the sun went down. She was right, as always.

Gooma took us everywhere. Every day with her was a new adventure. We would drive the hilly backroads and pretend we were on a roller coaster. We picnicked in the park, and played hide and seek in real graveyards. We went to art and history museums. I particularly loved the mummy at The Ohio Historical Society.

It turns out that I did not really know these women, until many years after they died.

When Nana was fading, she was forced to sell her home and go to a nursing facility. She was so upset, she refused to eat. I came to feed her, three meals a day for a period of two years. At the time, I thought we were getting along very well. When she passed, I found out that several years prior, she had written me out of her will stating that she "did not approve of my lifestyle."

Funny. She never said a word to me about that.

After Gooma passed, I found out that she had been engaged to one of the most powerful wealthy men in America, but she turned him down, saying that "although she loved him, she could just not live the life of a debutante." I inherited the engagement ring that he apparently asked her to keep.


I also found out that the big statue of "The Dough Boy" gracing the front of The Ohio Historical Society was modeled after her twin bother Harold.

Funny. She never said a word to me about that.

For me, that silent statue is a proud testimony of the woman she was, and the one I have become.

Hawk Feeding Video

Red Shouldered Hawk

Watch the video

This female Red Shouldered Hawk was hit by a car. She is blind, and has a broken leg. In time, she may regain partial sight in one eye. The leg is healing nicely, and she is adjusting well to life at the rehab center. She is a calm and gentle soul with a sweet disposition. This video shows how we are feeding her.

Deer Medicine

I have a dear friend, who has been through a tough decade. Her story is her own to tell, so suffice to say, this has been a year of resurfacing from the drowning pool.

Yesterday was her one year anniversary of recovery and renewal. To celebrate, she went into the woods, to find The Magical Maggie's Special Tree.

This tree is a wonderment to behold. A Grand Sycamore, with an opening in it's base so large that half a dozen people can step inside. It's sort of like a giant living Teepee.

Maggie told her to "set her Intent" during her woodland walk, and ask Spirit to reveal it's Gifts.

As she walked, searching for the tree, she was startled by a deer. The Great Doe just stood and watched her, until she turned. At that moment, the Secret Tree revealed itself.

Later, as she was leaving, she came upon some Bones. They were the hip bones of a Deer. She picked them up, thanking Spirit for her gifts.

"Deer medicine is gentleness in word, thought and deed. It is the ability to listen. It is grace and appreciation for the beauty of balance, understanding of what's necessary for survival. It teaches the ability to sacrifice for the higher good, living in balance with the woodland spirits. Deer has many alternative paths to a goal. The gentleness of Deer is the heart-space of the Great Spirit which embodies love for us all. Deer teaches us to find the gentleness that heals all wounds, to stop pushing to get others to change, and to love and accept them as they are."

She thought about these qualities, and realized this teaching has been calling to her for weeks. This message was the theme of her favorite T.V. show last week. It was the message she read in a book that fell from the shelf at her feet while she was cleaning, and the topic of a speech she attended.

She said this lesson was key to her growth and healing.

You will have to trust me, Dear Reader, when I tell you I know her well enough to confirm, this is indeed very true.

A Gruesome Scene

This memory was inspired by Liz.

Of Stereotypes and Archetypes

Over at The Den of The Biting Beaver a spirited discussion has taken place regarding the use of feminine pronouns.

One side states that terms like Maiden, Mother, Crone, and Virgin are negative stereotypes that define women in terms of her sexuality and fertility.

The other side (by that I mean me) claims that these archetypes are not inherently negative, but only become so when we choose to see the world through a patriarchal lens.

Many of the women involved in this debate were adamant in their stance that they do not fit traditional gender roles, and therefore do not connect to these particular archetypes.

The wonderful thing about archetypes and symbols is that there are so many of them, that we all have an opportunity to choose the ones we identify with as individuals.

Religion is the same way. There are thousands of sects out there to choose from, and each person must go on their own personal journey to find what works best for them.

The thing that disturbs me in all this, is the insistence that there is only ONE right way. This instance degrades respectful debate to the level of personal attacks. (Like the current Muhammad Cartoon Controversy.)

If I find the archetype of The Crone as a positive symbol of Wise Woman and Healer, The stereotype crowd says I am wrong, because there are people in the world who see the crone as a post menopausal douche bag.

I suspect they are leading their argument to the conclusion that all feminine pronouns should be banned, and that I should define women by using *superior* male pronouns, in the fight for equality.

Personally I feel that this just reinforces the idea that women are inferior. I believe that this approach does more harm to the feminist cause than the Patriachal Powers we stand against. I claim that we should use feminine pronouns with pride, and in doing so, we will create respect for women.

The only difference between a stereotype and an archetype is that one is used to degrade, while the other is used to inspire.

The group did not see it that way. I lost the debate.

Alas, each to their own. As for me, I choose to focus on the Positive.

Zoom Do

Zoom Do

Watch the video

The Kids aksed me to make a clip to send to Zoom, a kids TV show, but when we got done, we noticed that the logo on the shirt was not really appropriate for childrens broadcasting.

Pouncing Puppy

Link

Here is my first VIDEO POST!!!!!

Im still learning, so for now, you have to click the title (Pouncing Puppy) to get it to play. Hitting the play button does not work because Im posting from a Mac and it does not have the wysiwyg editor.

In the video Sandy Dandy is having a ball bouncing on the trampoline, but the question is What makes herr jump?

Enjoy!