Keeper of the Zoo

Audubon's Birds of America: A High Dollar Book

2012-01-26T15:07:00.000-08:00

If you were wondering why one might pay $8 million for a book, well, Cornell University Lab of Ornithology offers some clues. Their library owns one of the twelve remaining original copies of Audubon's Birds of America. A different original just sold at Christie's fetching the third largest sum ever for a book. The Cornell copy was brought out for examination by one of the university's art professors, specifically to view some of the best remaining images of America's extinct species. The viewing was filmed in this fascinating short documentary below. You can read more about the book and the artist's project at the Round Robin.

Check out the Condor Cam

2012-01-26T09:16:00.000-08:00

Photo by USGS photographer Sue Haig

The San Diego Zoo Safari Park has just announced a new California Condor cam. You will be able to check in with Sisquoc and Shahtash while they incubate their egg, and barring complications, watch them hatch and rear their chick.

The largest bird in North America, with a wingspan nearing ten feet, these condors are also one of our most endangered species. But, thanks to programs like San Diego Zoo Global's Condor Conservation, the wild population is once more on the rise, though there are still fewer than 400 known birds in existence.

For this reason, the San Diego Zoo practices careful monitoring and controlled breeding of captive pairs who's offspring might be released back into the wild. The program has successfully released around 80 birds using these methods. It remains one of the most successful captive breed and release programs of endangered species in existence.

Michael Mace, bird curator for the park, reports that Sisquoc and Shahtash are sitting on an artificial egg while their actual egg is incubated by the staff. Although this is complicated business, much more so than you might imagine, it is also a common practice with a very high success rate. Obviously, few organizations in the world do it better than these people.

I'm sure I've mentioned that for twelve years I was a bird keeper who did some of my own incubating and hand-rearing of endangered birds. About ten years ago, I was fortunate enough to land an internship under one of the San Diego Zoo's outreach programs, the Keauhou Bird Conservation Center in Hawaii. I learned from the best about the San Diego Zoo's hugely successful incubation rate and their hand-rearing techniques with the endangered A'lala or Hawaii Crow. The program uses many of the same techniques as the Condor Conservation Program, though, unfortunately their release rate has not been nearly as successful.

The image is of a condor chick being hand-fed with a puppet to avoid it imprinting with it's keepers. A'lalas are also fed using similar Hawaii Crow puppets. This feeding technique is often employed when the parent birds or other surrogate birds cannot be found to raise the chicks.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is you need not fret too much for the egg. It will be in very good hands and safe from many of the things that might prevent it from hatching should it remain in the nest. Early in March, the egg will be returned to the Condors who will be none the wiser, and judging by the established success rate, the birds should accept it back into the fold without incident. They will most likely continue to hatch and care for the chick as if it never left the nest. So for now, expect only to see the occasional swapping of adult birds incubating, and some gentle turning and manipulation of their artificial egg. Mostly, they have a boring job of sitting still and keeping their egg at just the right temperature. The real excitement won't begin for those of us watching until March, when the egg hatches. I'll be keeping my fingers crossed for the condors and their keepers in hopes of another successful release to the wild.

Give 'em Chocolate Roaches

2012-01-24T16:51:00.000-08:00

Oh, the Bronx Zoo cracks me up with this - If you are wondering what to get your significant other this year for Valentines, look no further.

Yes, for a nominal fee of $10.00, you can honor someone by naming one of the Bronx Zoo's 58,000 Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches.

AND you can give your sweetheart (or the one who broke your heart) a large, hand-painted chocolate roach.

Why? The zoo says, "Because your love is everlasting, like our roach problem."

Sweet!

Those Funky Monkeys

2012-01-23T21:31:00.000-08:00

Photo by Eric Fell

The monkeys are coming out of the woodwork. Okay, well, maybe they are just coming out of the woods. The big animals news of this week over at National Geographic is the rediscovery of the Miller's grizzled languor. This species, thought to be extinct, was rediscovered in the Wehea Forest of Borneo. And, scientists discovered what appears to be not one, but two separate populations of them.

Stephenie Speher reports eleven individuals sighted in one group including thriving youngsters. There is no mention of how many were sighted with the second group. They are temporarily protected by an indigenous group and the local government, but they are surrounded on all sides by logging.

Photo by Jeremy Holden

And, in Burma, an image of the newly discovered Myanmar Snub Nosed Monkey was captured by Jeremy Holden and his camera trap team. The team, led by Holden and working for Flora and Fauna International, traveled 3000m up into the mountainous rhododendron forests of Myanmar to set their camera traps. They waited months, and made several trips to check traps. They trekked through the jungle in the rain, slept in tilted leaking tents to keep the run off away from their heads. They slept with portions of their bodies submerged in water all night to collect this first image. How did they celebrate? With coffee packets and local cheroots around the camp fire, of course. You can read about the whole adventure here.

Congratulations Tammy Chimp

2012-01-21T20:08:00.000-08:00

Tammy chimp, a 41 year old female at the North Carolina Zoo, gave birth to a daughter named Ebi last Monday. Both are doing well, and so far, Tammy is caring for the baby without intervention from her keepers. Congratulations to Tammy, and to all my friends, chimp and otherwise, at the NC Zoo.

Ebi and Tammy will remain off exhibit for the next few months at least. But, don't worry, they have a fantastic, state of the art, off-exhibit holding area, complete with private outdoor access, should the weather get warm enough to allow it.

You might, however, catch a glimpse of Nori, the zoo's seventeen month old chimp, on exhibit when the weather permits. She is adorably cute, just like a baby chimp should be. Also, if you have not already read "Bonding with Hondo," my short story about helping to raise a baby chimp, you can find it here.

I wish all the best to Tammy and Ebi and their keepers! Here's hoping for continued health for Ebi and maternal success for Tammy. My fingers and toes will be crossed!

Striking to Protest SOPA and PIPA!

2012-01-15T21:56:00.000-08:00

On January 24th, if the American public does not stand up and say no, the internet may drastically change, and not for the better.

While both SOPA and PIPA acts have been masqueraded to the public as acts to stop piracy, something that is already covered by existing laws, I might add, large media conglomerates are poised to begin censorship of the internet. Should this act pass, you will be handing our freedom of speech over to those who, I assure you, have only their own interests at heart. You will allow them to decide who and what gets shut down on the internet. The entertainment industry will be gaining control of the internet.

And, isn't it interesting how your local news, heck even the national news has had little to nothing to say about this? Could this be because they are owned by the same corporations who would like to take control of the internet via the passing of said bills? You may think this won't affect you. I assure you it will.

How will you feel when Yahoo!, Facebook, Google, Reddit, Youtube, Mozilla, Wikipedia, in essence, all the places you go to find your information daily at the touch of a finger, or to share your photos, or to gossip with your friends or email your coworkers are suddenly gone? When your blog, your web business, your shop on Etsy gets closed, don't be shocked.

Please consider joining the fight to protect our freedoms. Call your congressmen and senators, join the strike, take five minutes out of your day. Go to http://sopastrike.com/ to join the strike. Go to http://americancensorship.org/ to help stop this bill! But, for all of our sakes, please don't sit at home doing nothing! PIPA is NOT a compromise!

If I were internet savvy, this sight would be blacked out. But, because I am not, I am doing the next best thing. I will not be posting any further blogs for this week on either of my web sites. Consider this my official strike in protest because,

Tiny Frogs, Beyonce Horse Flies, and Black-Capped Petrals

2012-01-14T08:14:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of Christopher Austin, Louisiana State U.

The world's smallest frog, Paedophryne amouensis, was just discovered in Papua New Guinea, measuring 7.7 mm, about the size of a house fly. These tiny little guys live in the leaf litter of the rainforest floor, and, apparently, they are very difficult to capture, as you might imagine. You have to follow your ears to locate them by call, but here's the catch. The calls are so high pitched it's difficult for human ears to hear them.

This little guy beats the world's previous record by just 0.2 mm. The last record holder, Paedocypris progenetica, hails from Southeast Asia. Anyway, all of the tiny Paedophryne species discovered thus far are from Southern Papua New Guinea. The fist species was discovered back in 2010, but was just announced to the public a few days ago.

My first thought was, "What do these little things eat?" The answer is supremely tiny things like mites, and probably some of the same stuff flies would eat. Yum! You can find more about them over at Nat. Geo.

Photo courtesy of CSIRO Australia

And speaking of flies, I'm betting Beyonce is beyond thrilled to hear a species of Horse Fly has been named in her honor. This species, first discovered in 1981, the year Beyonce was born, has gone nameless for years. That is until Bryan Lessard decided to show "the fun side of taxonomy." He describes the fly as having a gorgeous golden abdomen that he claims "makes it the all time diva of flies." Hence the name, Scapia beyonceae.

This particular species was discovered in Queensland, Australia, where it is not simply a pest, but also an important pollinator of plants. Anyway, my congratulations to both the diva and the fly. More at Science Daily.

Photo by J. Volques of Grupo Jaragua

And down in the Caribbean, the world's first photos of an endangered Black-capped Petral chick have been recorded by J. Volquez, Grupo Jaragua of the Dominican Republic. I can't seem to stop myself from saying, "Isn't it cute?" This species was once thought extinct back in the late 1800s until reported sightings of the birds at sea began to come in. Finally, in 1963, the first nesting grounds were discovered in the Caribbean. For many years, ornithologists have tried to find out more about this rare and illusive species.

The discovery of new nesting grounds with viable chicks has rekindled excitement. Hopes were not high for the species' survival. Few discoveries about their life cycle have been made since the 60's. You can read more from the source, if you read Spanish, at Grupo Jaragua, or you can visit The Cornell Lab of Ornithology for English.

A Zookeeper in the Making

2012-01-12T06:20:00.000-08:00

Sophia was captured encountering the male lion at the Wellington Zoo in New Zealand. Check it out.

My first reaction is Sophia will make an excellent zookeeper. We were always taught to have no reaction to these kinds of displays of dominance that the big cats, in particular, are famous for. Mostly, this was because if the animals get the expected reaction, they are encouraged to repeat the behavior. In captivity, this presents a huge risk of injury - to the animal. If this male lion, for example, learns to jump at the cage glass, or even worse, the metal cage bars of his off exhibit holding area on a regular basis, he might end up with injured paws, or the worst of the worst, broken teeth. Broken teeth can be deadly to a lion, presenting risk of all kinds of infection and the need for surgeries that are always risky business, even to an otherwise healthy lion.

So, when the animals attack the cage bars, keepers need the guts Sophia seems born with, so they don't give the reaction the animals are aiming for. Then, perhaps the animal won't be as likely to do it again. I'd wager a guess that the only reason this particular male jumped at Sophia the second time is because he got reactions from the parents and other people off camera behind her. He appears to be assessing them just before his second attack, and as he probably hoped, Mom led Sophia away. Mission accomplished with the added bonus of making the humans scream. Woot!

Anyway, if Sophia decides she wants to become a zookeeper, she will learn that, regardless of all the people who think it's possible, there is no real taming of a lion - ever. She will want to keep him from harm's way in his captive environment by any means possible, because if he breaks a claw or a tooth on those cage bars because she encouraged his bad behavior, she will be the one who has to stand beside the vet and tick her lion off royally with that dart. She will have to hope that the lion really is anesthetized by said dart and is not faking, and she will most likely be the first person to bravely walk into the lion's cage and put her hands near his mouth to secure a gas mask over his face. And she will stand beside him while he sleeps, and assist the vets and vet techs with whatever surgical procedures he needs. And the whole time, if she is anything like me, she will be silently praying to anyone who might listen that he doesn't wake up until he's supposed to. She will pray for this almost as hard as she will pray that he recovers and returns to his surly ways.

Penguin Games

2012-01-10T06:36:00.000-08:00

Had a good laugh at Toronto Zoo's African Penguin video.

Hedwig's Peeps are Here! No really!

2012-01-06T15:03:00.000-08:00

Snowy Owls are making a practically magical visit to the United States this winter. According to Dirk Lammars of the Associated Press, this year there have been sightings reported across our continent, with thirty birds spotted at Lake Andes in South Dakota alone. I have to agree with ornithologist Mark Robbins, this is "mind numbing" indeed. They typically make rare appearances in our northern states, but this is like coast to coast, all over the place, lots of them.

When I lived in northern Indiana, very near the Michigan border, we would catch sight of one snowy
owl on my step-father's rural property every few years. He would sit atop a fence post on the back of

our property and hunt, but only when the snow was deepest and most everyone, except those of us crazy enough to snow shoe out and bird watch, were huddled snug beside their wood stoves staying dry. He didn't care for interruption, and he would fly off and disappear the moment he realized he'd been spotted. Still, on these rare occasions, we always felt like we had been visited by some magical spirit, and I'm talking years before Harry Potter and Hedwig ever entered my imaginings. I never wondered why Rowling chose this species for Harry, because I felt as if I already knew. Nothing says otherworldly quite like the beauty of the Snowy Owl.

So, happy magic to those of you spying Hedwig's peeps. I hope it fills you with wonder for our world.

Bat Brains, New Snakes, and Stupid Humans

2012-01-04T14:32:00.000-08:00

The new year brings some fantastic animal news. And, not surprisingly, it also brings some extremely stupid human behavior. But, let's look to the good news first, shall we?

Georgetown University Medical Center just released the article "Bat Brains Parse Sounds for Multitasking," on a study by Georgetown professor and renowned bat researcher Jagmeet Kanwal, PhD. His research, recently published in the European Journal of Neuroscience, reports on bat brain multitasking, showing that, apparently, they process both incoming signals which allow them to navigate via echolocation, while at the same time, they also process a variety of social communication sounds from the other bats. Furthermore, Dr. Kanwal has been able to track this parsing of duties to a single neuron level for the first time.

After having been told off personally by a bat I rescued last year, I am not surprised to hear scientists describing bat communication as similar to humans. The article describes a bit of bat lingo as follows: "Bats make angry sounds such as "back off," warning sounds like "watch out!" and other sounds for communicating messages such as "please don't hurt me," of even "I love you!" " The one I rescued sounded more to me like he was saying, "Up yours!" Anyway, what I was most excited by were some of the similarities found in bat and human brain functions, like a similar lopsided split in the cerebral cortex's wiring to deal with the phenomenon of combination-sensitivity. That's right, I get excited about this kind of stuff.

Photo by Michele Menegon Courtesy of The Science Museum of Trenton/WCS

I'm both excited and dismayed to learn of a new species of snake, Matilda's Horned Viper, discovered in the Tanzanian forest. I'm thrilled to see this new, beautiful species first described in the December Zootaxa journal. I'm dismayed to read Tim Davenport of The Wildlife Conservation Society report that this beautiful new species may be listed as critically endangered in short order. It's forest habitat is already decreased to less than 40 square miles due to deforestation and human encroachment for development. Tanzanian forests are some of the most bio diverse in the world, home to numerous newly discovered species, including the Kimpunji monkey first described in 2005, another species already critically endangered, because their forest home continues to disappear at an alarming rate.

Last, but not least, the new year brings along more stupid humans doing incredibly stupid things. A woman was filmed at the LA Zoo letting herself into and out of the elephant exhibit last week. She was taken into custody where she admitting to having skipped medication for a number of mental disorders. Let's just hope the elephants won't have to suffer being kept off exhibit due to the questions raised over public safety. I say if someone is stupid enough to cross multiple barriers to get into the elephant exhibit, nobody should complain if they don't make it back out. This particular woman was extremely lucky the elephants didn't take offense to her presence. And furthermore, the question I think people should be asking the LA Zoo is if their elephants are safe from all those crazy humans.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T14:05:00.000-08:00

From a zoo in Shenzhen Province, China (via The Telegraph.)

May this year bring greater respect, understanding, and empathy for all living creatures on the earth.
Happy 2012!

The Master of Camouflage Stirs Things Up

2011-12-27T21:51:00.000-08:00

Nothing quite compares to the octopus when it comes to camouflage. Over at Science Blogs, Greg Laden posted this amazing video. Like the man in the video, I had to watch the slow motion replay before I believed this wasn't some kind of trick of the film maker. Check this out!

Isn't that incredible? The common octopus uses a network of pigment cells and specialized muscles in it's skin to blend into its surroundings. It can assess its surroundings and change to blend in seconds so it can literally hide in plain sight. And the ink it ejects if spotted not only obscures the predator's view, but also dulls the predator's sense of smell so the octopus has a better chance of escape. But the octopus doesn't just rely on its camouflage to save it. It also has a wicked jaw that can deliver a vicious bite and venomous saliva to boot. And, as if that weren't enough, it possesses a keen intelligence.

Octopuses have long been thought of as the most intelligent of all the invertebrates, but recent studies by researchers like Jennifer Mather are proving that they are quite capable of problem solving, tool use, heck they even exhibit play behaviors. This ranks them right up there with the most intelligent beings on earth. In fact, they are causing quite a stir, since octopuses are asocial beings. So, proof of their intelligence sort of blows Nicholas Humphrey's social theory of intelligence out of the water. The original theory was expanded to argue animal intelligence by esteemed researchers like Jane Goodall, who posit that the need for intelligence in "higher mammals" like chimpanzees and elephants, for instance, is due to their social structures.

So, the octopus is stirring up the cognitive studies world and forcing researchers to rethink long-standing false assumptions, such as the notion that something must be human-like in some way, possess social skills and humanistic qualities, to have smarts. Not so much. Yet another reason for me to admire the octopus.

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology

2011-12-26T22:09:00.000-08:00

Because I can always count on them for the latest and greatest information on all things bird, I am happy to support The Cornell Lab of Ornithology. If you have not already learned this about me, I am a total bird geek. Give me a pair of binoculars, a spotting scope, and some camouflage, and I can be happy hiking for days following my ears to the next glimpse of some fantastic feathered friend. I even worked in an aviary with tropical forest birds for many years. The photo is of me helping my curator band a Blue Crowned Hanging Parrot, one of the smallest parrots in the world.

Last year's best holiday gift was Cornell Lab's Bird Songs Bible, which plays the birds' songs so you can hear them as you look up their information.

Cornell Lab's overall mission is to "interpret and conserve the earth's biological diversity through research, education, and citizen science focused on birds." Here is what John Fitzpatrick, their current director, has to say about their work. “Daily, every person under this roof is committed to focusing our unique resources, our ingenuity, and our appreciation of nature toward studying and teaching about the living earth.”

By way of a thank you this year, Cornell Lab sent out a lovely video to their members. I thought I would share it so you can see some of the amazing things they film and study. Enjoy!

A Very Merry Zooliday!

2011-12-21T09:39:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite things to do when I worked as a zookeeper was create fun things to give my animals for enrichment. Because captive animals are often bored in their enclosures, zookeepers spend a good portion of every day trying out different things to keep them entertained, active, and healthy. The holiday season provides all kinds of opportunities for the animals and keepers alike to get into the festive spirit. So, I thought I would share some photos from zoos around the world to show you what some of the animals have been up to.

Over at the Taronga Zoo in Sydney, Australia, they've been hosting a holiday enrichment fest for their animals for several years. Here are a few of their posted photos -

Here's a photo by Rick Stevens of Bethyl, Taronga's elderly Kodiak Bear checking out her fun new toy -

And at the Belfast Zoo, the primates are enjoying their visit from Saint Nicholas a little early this year -

And stateside, at the Wildwood Wildlife Park, in Marshfield, Wisconsin, a cougar decided his presents were offensive, but he had fun shredding them -

At the North Carolina Zoo, we used to gather all of the Christmas trees after the holidays were over and give them to the animals as enrichment. Sadly, I can't seem to find any of those photos. All you zoo peeps, if you have some fun holiday images you'd be willing to post, please email them.

I hope you and all your loved ones, including the fur-covered variety, have a wonderful holidays.

Animal Magnetism

2011-12-14T16:19:00.000-08:00

Annette Swofer's got it, apparently. She came home over the weekend in Tauranga, New Zealand to find a visiting baby seal sleeping on her couch. And this seal strayed quite a ways from it's mother to visit with Annette, crossing a busy street, climbing some stairs, and entering through the cat door in her kitchen.

Annette says she thought she was hallucinating at first, and she didn't really know what kind of animal it was, only that it wasn't a cat or a dog because it had flippers. She asked her friend to be sure she wasn't seeing things, and seemed relieved to find he could see it, too.

In an article at The Mary Sue, she was quoted as saying, "It's kind of like finding an elephant in your house." Actually, Annette, it's really not at all like that, but thanks for making me laugh -a lot. And thanks for calling the animal rescue people who returned the pup to its natural habitat. You can find more about this over at Huffington Post.

And speaking of people with animal magnetism, Cornell University's Round Robin posted a lovely article on the new Chris Linder book, Science On Ice. I am very excited about this book. I'll admit it's mostly because of the fantastic photographer, because I love his work. Although, I am also interested in the project's findings and the story of this amazing group of scientists who braved the elements of the Antarctica to study the Adelie Penguins. They nest on the world's largest glacier. Here is a fantastic video on their adventure. How could I resist a penguin video? Perhaps it should be said that penguins and baby seals possess human magnetism.

Dog Diva on the Catwalk

2011-12-09T16:48:00.000-08:00

When I heard the fantastic photographer Lisa Pitcher was calling for models for her fine arts shoot, I was thrilled. I never thought I'd be one of those moms who would gladly turn their kid into a diva to live vicariously. Well, I am. Of course, if you know me, you know my kids are all of the fur-covered variety. So, Miss Cinco de Mayo, who in all honesty was already a doggy diva, found herself volunteered for a turn on the catwalk.

I wasn't really sure how she would respond to this, since she is typically a little worry wart. Plus, she doesn't really care for me pointing my camera in her direction. But, Lisa not only has the eye, but also the touch for easing her subjects and capturing their personalities. In her own words, Lisa describes her photographic vision:

"I am not interested in using my camera to merely document a subject, I am always looking for avenues to peel off the obvious and reveal with my lens the emotional heart of the subject. Light, angle, colors, depth of field- I utilize all of these to capture what makes that person/animal who they are."

So, with the help of various treats and a whole lot of "You're the star" treatment, Cinco is now certainly poised to become the first Canine Vogue cover girl! Thanks to Lisa Pitcher for immortalizing my Cinco and for agreeing to share her images here. I highly recommend you visit her website and take a look at her other portraits!

How to Have a Doggone Good Time!

2011-11-29T13:32:00.000-08:00

The Dog Days of Summer might be behind us, but here in the mountains of Virginia, it's been unseasonably warm. As the pet sitter extraordinaire, I've enjoyed these last few weeks immensely. The only complaint I might voice is the annual practice by so many of burning leaves. I'm terribly allergic to oak.

But instead of complaining, I'd like to introduce you to Xena and Daisy (aka Xena and Gabrielle, because, really, why would you have a Xena without a Gabrielle?) These warrior princess beagles would like to remind everyone how much fun can be had in a good pile of leaves. Just rake them all into one place, and voila, you've got yourself a doggone good time!

Plus, for all you adult types who feel you need a rational reason for doing this, you can pile them up at the bases of trees and bushes and in your flower beds to serve as a winter mulch. You'll probably find fewer weeds to pull in the spring if you do. Or, if you're like me, you can rake them into the surrounding woods and let the local wildlife bed down in them, too.

Burning leaves really is quite toxic for everyone, not just those of us with allergies. Did you know that leaf burning will actually eat the paint off your house. Here's more information from those who know far more about it than me. So, consider letting nature take it's course. Leaf litter will break down naturally and return all kinds of good nutrients to the soil.

Best of all, you get the added bonus of hours of fun for everyone! Xena and "Gabrielle" sure have been entertaining me daily.

Who is Protected by Protect IP?

2011-11-18T12:39:00.001-08:00

Today's spotlight video on Youtube was the fantastic Disney classic animated short Steamboat Willie.

I hope you will enjoy watching it. But, before you do, please realize that the time for watching many of the things you enjoy online may be coming to a rapid, and if your not paying attention, unexpected close. And, if you want to keep your internet freedom so you can enjoy music, television, movies, and art online, not to mention freedom of speech, you will need to read on and consider helping in the fight to keep internet censorship from happening.

So, now that you've had some fun, let me focus you on The Protect IP Act and SOPA (Stop Online Piracy Act) getting ready to come before Congress. Neither act is worded as internet censorship, but trust me, the potential is there. Though, on the surface, they may seem like a good idea, you must look deeper and ask yourself just who is protected by this act, and do we want to hand that kind of power to large corporations like Disney? We would be giving large entertainment corporations, and our government, the power to close internet sights down, and due to the wording of these acts, close them down for a whole lot more than "piracy" of "intellectual property." So, please, take some time to check out Fight for our Future, and then join me in helping to spread the word to others.

Our elected officials need to know that the voting public does not agree! Most of all, please, if you enjoy the internet, things like reading blogs, sharing with your friends on social media, and online entertainment, don't assume this does not effect you, because it does! I promise you won't like the results if you sit back and do nothing, even if you are one of the artists these acts are professing to protect! Fight for the Future website makes it easy for you. Just follow the simple steps over there, and thanks for helping.

Baby Okapi at the Bronx Zoo

2011-11-11T17:54:00.001-08:00

The newest arrival at the Bronx Zoo is making her public debut. According to Mongabay.com, the new baby okapi will be on exhibit intermittently, weather permitting. If you don't know what an okapi is, don't worry, you are not alone. Let me show you a couple pictures of Bambesa and her calf Safarani, two out of the thirteen of this rare species that I cared for back at the start of my zoo career. They are often called Forest Giraffes, from the Ituri Forest in the Republic of the Congo. They were not officially described to western science until 1901. Sir Johnston, by then, had spent some ten years trying to see a live one in the Ituri forest. They are a silent, illusive species of the deep jungle. The only sound they make regularly is a chuff, which sounds like a quiet cough. Interestingly, I was part of a team that, with the help of equipment from NASA, recorded and took data on okapi calls, which were discovered to be infrasonic, meaning the majority of the call is too low to be discernable to the human ear, but can travel for miles and penetrate the thickest of jungle foilage. I find this fascinating.

Bambesa was one of my favorite okapis. Why? Well, she was only friendly to certain people, and she liked me. The feeling was entirly mutual. These amazing animals are called Forest Giraffes because they are actually cousins to the giraffe. You might not notice the similarity, but the males have skin-covered horns like a giraffe and they have those long, prehensile blue tongues that can strip a branch of leaves in a heartbeat and are long enough to clean out their own ears and eyes, which is one of those gross things you can't stop watching if you have the chance to see it.

I never expected to fall for these creatures, but they quickly became one of my favorite animals. I feel incredibly honored to have cared for them, to have run my hands over their velvety coats, to have fed them their favorite things - oatmeal and onions, believe it or not. Kawnini, who I am pictured with here, was a complete sucker for onions.

She, like Bambesa, really loved to have her ears cleaned out. They were both kind of like dogs when you had a swab in their ears. They made this funny smile-like face and I fully expected their back legs to start spontaneously kicking. In fact, each okapi I cared for had their own distinct personality. Where Kwanini and Keowe were both laid back and happy to be rubbed, Safarani, the calf above, was prone to rearing up and kicking at you with her front legs if startled, and Katala would run you over for fun if given half a chance. She was a hand full. Bambesa was only friendly if she was in the mood and she liked you. All in all, days getting to know a barn full of these lovely animals was never dull. No, indeed, I can't complain of having led a boring life.

Anyway, in honor of the fabulousness that is okapi, I would like to officially congratulate the Bronx Zoo okapi keepers and the mother okapi, who survived a 14 month gestation to give birth. I hope they both enjoy continued health and a long, happy life. If you live near the Bronx Zoo, I highly recommend you call in advance this time of year before you trek out to see the baby. These are an African rainforest species, after all. They cannot handle much of the New York cold. In the meantime, courtesy of Mongabay.com, here is a recent video of the new baby enjoying her exhibit.

Bonding With Hondo

2011-06-06T21:11:00.000-07:00

As a celebration for turning in my final draft of my thesis paper to the professors today (go me!), I am posting a small portion of the paper here, one of the short stories about my time at the zoo. The Image is a sketch of a painting in progress which goes with this story. Hope you enjoy!

Hondo was one of the largest chimps I had ever seen. A commanding male, he ruled his troupe at the North Carolina Zoo with a king’s presence. On more than one occasion, when Hondo was taking out his frustrations on his unruly family, I watched from a distance in absolute terror of his power and the expressions of anger and hostility on his face. I had to work very hard not to show him my fear, but somehow Hondo knew, and he seemed to relish finding new and interesting ways to scare me. He made loud noises, threw things, or spit on me. We shared a mutual dislike that I think was caused by a mutual misunderstanding of each other.

I made numerous mistakes with Hondo in the early days of our acquaintance. I avoided him and never gave him a proper and respectful greeting as troupe leader. I also had a difficult time masking my frustrations with him as our relationship deteriorated, and although I tried hard not to react, I had a hard time schooling my facial expressions. I made my dislike clear in a hundred small ways, like lifting my eyebrows or creasing my brow. Then along came Hondo’s offspring, Jonathan, and my relationship with Hondo changed drastically.

Jonathan chimp was born to a first-time mother, who was unable to nurse him. In the absence of another nursing female, the choice was made to hand-raise him. But because the regular chimp staff was short-handed, the non-primate keepers in the park, such as me, were asked to volunteer time to help feed him. Of course, I jumped at the chance to cuddle a baby chimp.

Jonathan was a tiny thing with enormous ears twice the size of a normal chimp. We fed and cared for Jonathan in the cage adjoining the troupe to help teach the females care skills by watching us. This minimal contact would also help integrate Jonathan back into the troupe when he was weaned. I was extremely nervous about entering the cage next door with only a large, metal grate separating me from Hondo and the others. So on the first day, I hesitantly walked in and sat in the plastic chair beside the mesh, waiting for the keepers to bring Jonathan and his bottle to me.

I remember distinctly being grateful that the chimp troupe was outside and none of them seemed to notice me. I had visions of the amount of spit and urine I would have to shower off myself before the afternoon was through. But, when they placed that tiny, furry chimp boy in my arms, none of that mattered. I was completely spellbound by his little, pink hands that grasped at my fingers just like a human infant, and his beautiful little face framed by those ginormous ears. He gazed up at me with saucer-sized eyes and took the bottle for me right away. I felt this sense of peace fill me up, and I rocked him gently while he ate. I was bent forward over the baby crooning to him, encouraging him to keep eating, when I felt something on my neck, blowing my long hair.

A chill shot down my spine when I looked up to find Hondo seated with his side pressed up against the mesh cage door. I had to fight the urge to jump up and run. The only thing that kept me planted in my chair was worry that the precious baby would be frightened. When I looked back at the baby, Hondo blew gently at my hair again, and I realized he was blowing my hair out of the way to see the baby. I moved my hair back behind my shoulder and sat up straighter. I did this mostly so I could watch Hondo out of the corner of my eye.

Hondo remained quiet and my heart rate eventually slowed to normal. I opted to turn my chair and move it closer to the mesh bars. The look of surprise on Hondo’s face was something to behold. I don’t think the other keepers had offered to bring the baby closer to him, or perhaps he had not asked since he already trusted them. Regardless, my decision changed our entire relationship.

It became normal for Hondo to meet me whenever I was feeding the baby. We even sat with our shoulders touching against the mesh sometimes, once I learned to trust that he would not grab at my hair or pinch me through the bars. Hondo never again treated me with anything less than respect and affection. We eventually graduated to grooming each other through the bars, which indicated that he accepted me as a member to his troupe. I often brought him treats, and he sometimes brought me items too, things he found in his exhibit. Hondo gave me a rock one day. That piece of slate is one of the greatest gifts I ever received, more precious to me than any gemstone.

In all the years since, I am never forgotten by either Hondo or Jonathan. No matter how much I changed, every time I visit the zoo both males come across their large exhibit to greet me with obvious joy. The zoo visitors often find it exciting that the chimps know me, particularly when Jonathan throws his arms out and gives me a mock hug and kiss against the glass like he used to do as a child. Every time this happens, I feel a tightening in my gut that we can never again hug, and I remember how he would let me rock him to sleep with his head on my shoulder. But the boy has grown to nearly Hondo’s size, so we must be separated by bars, glass, and fences now. I realize this is best for my safety as well as his, but it doesn’t stop the longing or the sadness.

It's All About the Attitude

2011-06-03T21:09:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, I rescued a bat. Apparently, he came into my art studio building from the attic several days earlier while the owner was storing boxes. The little guy squeezed himself up into a corner above the picture hanging rail in our gallery hall. He had to hook his little legs around the rail and hide his face against the corner to sleep with all the light pouring in from the huge, warehouse style windows. Nobody seemed to know how long he'd been there, stuck among the art with one single fly (I really hope he ate that pesky bastard) and no water. So, I broke out the old animal nets and borrowed a pair of work gloves (that will never be the same) from Gene. I'll admit, the whole thing made me miss the zoo just a little.

The net proved to be useless thanks to the corner situation. But, I was able to sneak up a ladder and put my hand right over the sleeping ball of brown fur. Immediately, he starting bitching. Loud! And, of course he dug his teeth into the leather and pee'd all over it. I don't think Gene is going to be too happy to get his gloves back. Of course, I was not surprised by the initial attitude, and this is hardly the first time I've been pee'd on. (Remember peeps, a zookeeping job sounds fun until you think about all those bodily functions you have to clean up. Some of the animals like to throw it at you, too.) So, I held on tight and carried the little guy outside where he could return to his family in the attic.

What I didn't expect was the attitude I got when I let him go. The feisty, little booger just sat there on my glove, all his teeth bared, and bitched at me for at least two minutes before he finally flew off. He definitely subscribes to that "if you're small and cornered just act crazy" school of thought. He had some big attitude packed in a cute, little package. Now that I've gotten to know him, I think he's my kind of bat.

Etsy, Here Comes Earth Art By Amanda!

2011-03-08T13:26:00.000-08:00

Yes indeed! I finally got myself in gear and opened my new Etsy site, Earth Art by Amanda, my first little online shop to sell my art and jewelry. So far, I have only worked on posting the beach glass jewelry to it, but eventually, I plan to have several pages which will also include my paintings, drawings, and photography. First, however, I have to work towards getting better photos taken of my jewelry.

Where I am good, but not yet great, at photographing nature and animals, I seem to be not so good, and definitely not great at photographing jewelry. People who can take pictures of small, inanimate objects and make them look fantastic have a whole new respect in my book.

I am planning to recreate a beach scene and try putting my jewelry into it. Then, I can photograph it like I do when I find something in nature, and perhaps it will turn out better. I'll keep you posted. Or better yet, you can make frequent visits to my new etsy shop, Earth Art by Amanda to see for yourself if the new pictures are up. For now, they are just boring images of each necklace on a black, velvet board.

Still, the new logo and banner rock the house. Thanks so much to my friends Gene Bjerke and Poet Miller for helping me design these out of one of my paintings. Thanks also to Poet, and her Mom Andi Miller, for pretty much walking me through setting up shop. It's good to have friends who know computers, cause I seem to have some glitches in my system. No, not the computer, the brain. It short circuits when a computer enters the loop.

In related news, I am now an official sponsor to The Oceanic Society and you can view this on their upcoming conference page here. Thanks to all of you peeps who purchased jewelry in the past year to help me sponsor such a great cause. Its good to know others are willing and ready to help, even in small ways, in the effort to clean up our seashores and oceans. Pass on the need and who knows, maybe someone else will join the effort and start picking up the beaches and making art out of it. Stranger things have happened.

Some Good News for the Month of Me

2010-10-01T20:39:00.000-07:00

So, I admit to avoiding my own blog lately. It's not surprising after the last three posts about losing so many loved ones. This year has not been too kind to me and mine, and I guess I needed time to get my head together after all the sadness. Things are beginning to take an upward turn at last, perhaps because I am once again entering the month of me.

If you don't know me or are new to this blog, let me explain that I was born on October the 18th, 1969, and since I turned forty (last year), I decreed it time to be selfish and take an entire month to celebrate my birth. After forty years, we all deserve much more than just one lousy day. I say live it up while we still have our health. Last year's month of me was the best part of the year thanks to my dear friends who celebrated in style with me at Shakori Hills where Donna the Buffalo, the best band in the world, serenaded me, and I won't even tempt to top that this year. I am going for another Donna concert with friends this coming weekend,of course, but then I'm missing Shakori all together and opting for a week at the beach because it sounds like heaven right about now. I will be busily hunting beach glass, or laying like a barnacle on my blanket in the sand.

Anyway, just in time for the month of me, the wonderful news has hit the stands that I am to be one of the eleven women honored by the Academy of Women this year for outstanding contributions in the category of the arts. I was completely floored. So just a couple of days after my 41st birthday, I will have to stand up in front of the Central Virginia community and give an acceptance speech. There is, indeed, always a down side to every great thing. Still, they only want said speech to last five minutes...whew. The dinner and awards ceremony information can be found in the News and Advance article. Click the green Academy of Women link above for more info. The proceeds raised from the dinner will go to the YWCA of Central Virginia, whose motto is "eliminating racism, empowering women." So, come on out to help me celebrate the night and the other ten women who are being honored, and help an excellent cause in the process.

So, what other good news can I share? I am still working diligently on my graduate project and the painting and writing for this is moving right along. It seems to be flowing out of me these days. Of course, this leaves little time for anything else, like writing blogs and submitting new poetry and short stories to publishers, or calling, writing, and generally responding to invitations from my friends. I've even had to turn down or put off several excellent job and volunteer opportunities for worthy causes. There are just not enough hours in my day. I hope everyone will forgive me.

I did manage to squeeze out enough time to get my art entered into some shows over the summer. Thanks to my studio mate Terri, who reminded me of dates, kept me focused, and even picked up my art for me while I was away for school, I was able to take second place for my dragonfly photo in the Rockbridge Regional Show in July. I showed at Kaliedascope a few weeks ago, also. Thanks to all the friends and clients who came by to support me at the show.

Next, there will be three of my photos and two paintings inspired by my years living in Morelia, Mexico showing this month at the Bowen Center for the Arts in Bedford, Virginia for their "Latin American Show." If you are in the area, the show opens next Friday, October 8th and runs through the middle of November. Also, Art on 12th, where I have my studio, will be open to the public on Sunday, November 14th from 1:30-4 pm. We are located above the new Art Box on the corner of 12th and Grace St. in downtown Lynchburg. Come on by, enjoy snacks and conversation and see what all the fabulous artists in the building are working on.

So, that gives you a little taste of the positive side of my life, plus a a little taste of my art. Thought it might brighten up your days. Have a great month of me!

My Angel of Mercy

2010-07-14T20:57:00.000-07:00

Ten years ago, I met my angel of Mercy. She did not come in the form I expected, no hail of glory, no white wings and glowing halo, but she was an angel and she saved me, none the less. We were introduced by a friend while I was still grieving deeply over the loss of Isabeau, my first Rottweiler, who had lost a long and horrible battle with cancer. Although I swore I would never put myself through the sorrow of losing another dog, my friend knew I was in need, and she happened to know a dog who needed me, too. Mercy was the angel I never saw coming.

One of the best things about Mercy was that she simply loved everyone. If you gave her a cookie and a pat on the head, she would help you carry the TV and anything else you wanted to the car. She loved kids, and often put up with whatever they could dish out. Five minutes after meeting my four-year-old cousin Grant, pictured above, she was wearing his Pirates hat and his blanket and playing Superdog without complaint. She seemed fine with helping Katie, who is two, get over her fear of big dogs, too.

When we met,she was named Mercedes and she was in serious need of help. I went to her house skeptical that I was not ready for another dog, that I could not handle the emotional attachment. But, when I saw Mercy at two years old, weighing nearly 200 pounds and suffering greatly from obesity, I knew I had to take her home with me. She was a sweet and lovable klutz who was badly in need of a health overhaul, not unlike myself. We dieted together, but she was much more successful at it than I was perhaps due to the personal trainer. I could be so regimented with her and am still unable to keep myself in line. Go figure. Anyway, she lost enough weight to make up a whole second dog until she was down to the normal 120 pound mark. In the deepest hours of my depression, helping Mercy made me stronger. She was a loving friend who pulled me back into the land of the living.

Mercy did not just rescue me, however, she rescued another, or actually we rescued her together. One day, on my way to work, I found a female Healer / Terrier mix in the middle of the road nursing a litter of puppies near the back gate to the zoo where I worked. About half of the puppies in the litter, there were a lot of them, resembled the male pure bred rottweiler, so they had their tails docked. Since the owner of the dogs had already been caught several times selling half breeds as pure, and since I was a member of the local humane society, we chose to confiscate the puppies. Later, all of the other dogs were removed from the owner and he was fined, as well.

The first puppy I picked up from the pile in the road burrowed under my hair and began to make a soft, whimpering noise. After helping the humane society volunteers who came out to help pick up all the dogs and capture the mother, I was still holding this one puppy under my chin, and I literally could not put her down. I so did not need a second dog, having just taken Mercy home and feeling like she was not even settled in yet. But, I took the puppy home thinking I would just elect myself in charge of finding the one pup a good home.

Mercy took immediate charge of the tiny, little thing, cleaning and protecting her. They romped and they played and their famous freedom races at the end of each day probably aided Mercy in losing that last pesky pound or two. My favorite game, however, started on the first day they met. Mercy would play tug-o-war with the puppy, offering her the favorite toy, and after tugging for a bit, she let the little one win the game every time. They laid together with the puppy tucked safely between Mercy's front legs every night to sleep. I found several friends with farms who were interested in giving the puppy a home, but when they came over to meet her, Mercy placed herself between them and growled. Nobody was taking her baby away, least of all me. So, I named her Cinco de Mayo, after the day I found her, and we call her Cinco for short.

Mercy, Cinco and I became a family, a pack if you will, and we have been the best of friends. Sadly, and most likely due to Mercy's obesity in her youth, she contracted both thyroid and cushings disease, both of which are endocrine diseases. She was diagnosed about a year ago. Although the thyroid was treatable, there is nothing much to do for cushings except treat her symptoms and keep her comfortable. Even the cutting-edge, best drugs for the disease are questionable and do nothing to cure the animals. In the end, it is degenerative and eventually shuts down the internal organs due mostly, I'm told, to an excess of steroids in the system.

Mercy was amazing all the way to the end. She never complained, and she always stayed in the best frame of mind. Even a trained observer like myself had a hard time telling when she suffered. Most dogs become depressed, stop eating, stop grooming, or show signs of hurting, but Mercy stayed stoic, eager to please, eyes bright, and happy to be alive even as her kidneys were shutting down. After the tremors began to cause her to flop around and kept her from walking well, and she started having trouble standing up and laying down, even when she stopped processing food well, and started flinching whenever she was touched, she was never depressed. She would just shake it off and move on as if nothing was wrong. But, after it became apparent she had made it to the acute renal failure stage, we finally made the decision today to prevent any more suffering.

Right up until the end, Mercy was giving me kisses and hugs and panting with her big, sloppy smile even as she splayed out on the hospital floor and was unable to stand back up. She seemed more concerned about me and why I was upset than the fact that she could not stand up on her own. Once I sat down on the floor beside her and gave her another hug, she seemed happy to just stay where she landed and let the doctor work on her. She let me hold her and gave me kisses right up until the very end, and I know that if any dog has a special place in heaven, Mercy does. I told her I thought St. Francis probably had another assignment for her already, some other lost soul who needs rescuing. Mercy literally saved me, and although I can't really speak for her, I'm betting Cinco would say the same. We already miss her more than words can express.

Thanks, my Angel of Mercy!

A Cat Spangled Weekend

2010-07-04T05:13:00.000-07:00

Last year, I caught all kinds of flack from my cat loving clients for posting a blog about my doggy friends over the 4th of July holiday. In particular, Chaplin Spies (pictured above) was not pleased to be left out. As I told them, this was because mostly, of all my pet friends the dogs are more cooperative about having their picture taken, and friendlier to the pet sitter all around. Although, there are a few exceptions to the rule, and in fairness to the cats, I decided it was time to post a blog in their honor. This one's for you Chaplin!

As it happens, this holiday I am sitting for just as many cats as I am dogs, for a change, and a few of them were spectacularly cooperative with the paparazzi. So, with the help of my handy cell phone. I would love to introduce you to a few of my catty friends.

Meet Abby, the cattiest of cats. She will cooperate with me only if I NEVER touch her. I think the photo conveys how she feels about me.

On the friendlier side, there are a couple of cats that keep me rolling in the floor most visits. The first of these is the wonderful Ted. You just never know what crazy antics you might happen upon when Ted is near.

Then there is Boots. He is the curious cat who comes when called. He may have been a dog in a former life.

I often wonder if he was named for his foot fetish. He is quite enamored with his own white toes.

Lucy is also quite the dog lover. Here she is with Max the Maltese who gives her a bath every evening while we watch TV.

No cat blog would be complete without my favorite curious cat, Boomer, who happens to be Lucy's brother.

I just have to slide the dog who thinks she is a cat in here. This is me with Sienna, my smallest cliet. They tell me she is a dog, but I am not so sure!

Finally, one last cat that I thought Chaplin might like the looks of. Chaplin, meet Stella the barn cat. She is a wild and crazy girl!

I hope you all have a fabulous 4th of July holiday. I will be hanging on the wild side with the cats and dogs, although I plan to squeeze in a little cookout by the pool with friends, too.

Also, if you have not already read or seen these links, I have a couple of published works out there this month. You can read my latest published poem at The Canary by Hip Pocket Press. I am indeed grateful and honored to be published there with the likes of Ann Fisher-Wirth and Thomas Berry. You can also view one of my paintings in an international online exhibition called Face the Music.

Have a safe and happy Independence Day!

Poppy Moves to Red Light District in the Sky

2010-06-08T21:47:00.000-07:00

Never let it be said that Poppy did not tell you exactly what she thought. She spoke loudly if she felt the need. She and I had a lot in common that way. We also shared the distinction of having lived by many names, having had many friends who chose to call us assorted things, mostly out of affection. Poppy started life as Claireese, which was shortened further to Reese, and then somehow morphed into Poppy. Whatever name she went by, she was a fabulous cat who lived a charmed life, and thankfully shared most of it with me.

Twenty years ago, on Clairendon Drive, hence the original name, a road in downtown Dallas between Zoo north, the old part of the zoo, and the new Wilds of Africa on the south side, my friends Heidi, Amy and I rescued Poppy from four neighborhood dogs who had cornered her in a tree. We were on our way to the hay barn riding this little John Deere four wheeler - meets dump truck - meets tractor thingy that we referred to as " the green machine." It was loud like a Harley might sound if it had a really loose, rattling tail pipe, and yet, Poppy was so glad to be saved that she curled up under my chin and purred the whole way to the hay barn and the whole way back across the zoo to the Okapi Barn where she hung out with me until I went home for the day. She was mine and I was hers from the very first moment.

There are a lot of things she will be remembered for, but I think she is most notable for her own personal red light district. She was a fetishist of sorts, finding herself fond of using the litter box in the middle of my bed, regardless of the fact that I kept trying to explain the whole little box concept and how there should be litter and a box involved. She preferred doing her business in a bed and soon had to be relegated to the outdoors to live on our screened front porch. That first winter, we worried that she would freeze, so I bought her a heat lamp and plugged it in over her favorite bed. It made our front porch glow red that could be seen for blocks. After several undercover cops made excuses to knock on our door and check things out, a friend opted to take the naive girls aside and explain what a red light district meant. After some shock and a bit of laughter, we decided we liked it, opted to leave it, and told friends to look for it when we threw parties. In fact, we because known for our " Parties in the Red Light District." Poppy didn't care what people thought, why should we?

Never caring to be dubbed a slacker, Poppy helped to train every one of my dogs and a few of their friends and neighborhood canines. She was a good, but fair trainer who actually grew quite fond of Rottweilers, in particular. Yet another things we had in common. After teaching Isabeau who was the boss of every situation, she used to curl up on the bed next to her stomach and sleep for hours. With Mercy, she had already been relegated permanently to the out doors for crimes against the new mattress, so sleeping together was out. Still, she enjoyed hanging out by the pool with her in the summer. She would often use Mercy's back as a bridge between the table and the chaise loungers, so she could climb on top of the sun bathers and lay across our wet bathing suits and purr. I never said she wasn't a little bit strange.

Dearest Poppy, you will be missed! I like to think of you upstairs by the fire in a big cushy green chair with buddies TJ, Isabella, and Opal all sleeping in a pile and Isabeau maybe curled up on the floor. Maybe Gramma is there, too. Who knows. Wherever you are, it was a pleasure to have shared my days with you, and I hope we meet again!

Interning with Pam Longobardi

2010-05-12T12:35:00.000-07:00

Well peeps, the time is here and I am so stoked I can barely see straight. I leave ultra early in the morning on Saturday for the long drive to Atlanta and my long awaited internship with the fabulous artist Pam Longobardi. We met quite serendipitously while I was working an internship for my undergraduate studies at The Maier Museum of Art. I walked into the room to help hang the show which was focused on artists addressing environmental issues, to find Pam busily pinning to the wall small pieces of colorful, plastic trash she had collected off of South Point Beach on the Big Island of Hawaii to create an eye color test chart that read Dead C in its center. I happened to be wearing a necklace I had created from beach glass collected off that very same beach. We bonded instantly over our mutual love of Hawaii, the ocean, and all things environmental. Now, several years later, after Pam and her wonderful Drifter's Project have been shown all over the world (pictured here at the Art Life Gallery in Venice), and I have dutifully continued trudging through school hoping to learn how to create such amazing and inspired environmental art works as Pam, I have been given the incredible opportunity to work with her on her latest installation called Material Drift in the Sandler Hudson Gallery Atlanta next week. So, in honor of this exciting moment, I have copied the link to my article on Pam's upcoming show recently published at Got2BeGreen. It has all the details on Material Drift opening May 21st in Atlanta. I hope to see some of you there. Thanks to Pam for providing this opportunity and the photo of her work.
For more go to Got2BeGreen.

The Long Journey Home

2010-04-19T20:15:00.000-07:00

While my 91 year old Gramma was in the hospital with pneumonia three weeks ago, I began to paint the clouds in the sky after one particularly hard night. She was begging God to let her die, while all I could do to help was hold her hand. We prayed together that he would hear her and take her home. Finally, after several hours, she let me sing her back to sleep. The next day, my mind was on the clouds, and so I began to paint.

Initially, I bought the large sheet of Yupo paper to attempt a portrayal of the monarch butterflies, a subject I'm often moved to paint because of my connection to their wintering grounds near my childhood home of Morelia, Mexico. In the past, I have painted the monarchs with the memory of standing among billions of them at the Del Rosario Monarch Sanctuary north or Morelia.

This time, I wanted to paint the beginning of their journey from here in the Blue Ridge Mountain of Virginia all the way back home to the exact spot of their births. In my mind's eye, I pictured a mountain landscape, the view off a favorite overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway with a few butterflies fluttering around. But, after Gramma's horrible night, my head was in the clouds and I thought, "I'll just buy another sheet of paper later."

As I painted, however, I could not help but think of Gramma's struggle to die as a long journey not unlike that of the monarchs. I have always been fascinated by the thought of these tiny, seemingly frail butterflies and their ability to traverse continents in a few weeks only to breed and die.

Likewise, Gramma had become a frail, little thing struggling against the elements with each passing day. Having been diagnosed with severe dementia many years ago, she had very little hearing left, and macular degeneration had claimed her eyesight, too. She had very little quality of life for such an independent and active person, and she kept saying she had lived entirely too long already. It seemed she was ready to die, but just wasn't sure how to begin the final journey.

We prayed every night Gramma was in the hospital that God would take her, but alas once more she pulled through the pneumonia and returned to her home at Heritage Green Assisted Living a week later. At the time, she was diagnosed with the beginning stages of congestive heart failure as the underlying cause for the fluid in her lungs.

Then, last Saturday at four in the morning while I has home alone for the weekend, the nursing home called to say Gramma had fallen and cut her arm, that I should meet her at the emergency room. When I arrived, they already had her on a stretcher and were giving her high levels of oxygen. The nurse felt her low count might have been part of the reason she fell trying to get out of bed. Gramma was only in minimal pain, however, because the skin tear on her arm was superficial, and with her poor circulation, she really didn't feel it much unless they were touching it. Thankfully, there were no broken bones.

That night was our blessing. With the high levels of oxygen, Gramma was very lucid and clear-minded for a woman in her condition. So, for the four hours it took to find out she was officially okay - they literally applied Neosporin and gauze - she and I were able to really talk for the first time in ages. At some point, I told her I would give her memory back if I could. She really seemed to like that. I told her I loved her, and for once, I knew she heard me and understood.

That night was God's gift to us both. I'm sure of it. At long last, I drove her back to the nursing home and we got her tucked up in bed in her favorite pink pajamas under the quilt my aunt made for her last Christmas. Reluctantly, I left her when she said she needed to sleep, and by the time I arrived to check on her that evening, she had faded back into her dementia.

The next day, I returned to my studio and began to paint small butterflies onto my finished sky. Without much real thought, I landed on the number four. At first, I considered painting a whole trail across the sky, but once the first was painted and I saw the impact of the tiny creature in the large expanse of blue, that idea went right out the window.

In hindsight, I think the number four was my unconscious need to represent the four directions, earth, air, fire, and water, or north, south, east, and west, because I always give thanks to the four directions in my own spiritual practices. After several tries over a period of days, I got my butterflies just the way I wanted them and my painting was complete, except for my least favorite thing...figuring our how to frame it.

In the meantime, the nursing home staff began Gramma on short treatments of oxygen, but over the week her skin began to look grayish, and she seemed less responsive at times. My cousin Jason was scheduled to visit her on Tuesday, and he commented on how bad she looked. We assured him she had an appointment to see her doctor Thursday afternoon. They were planning to check her arm and discuss how they might manage keeping her on oxygen. We wondered if they could keep her from removing it all the time, because after about five minutes, she would not remember why it was in her nose and take it right back out.

Alas, that doctor's visit was not to be. Thursday at 11:30 the staff got Gramma cleaned up and dressed and had her in the wheelchair ready to go. But, when Mom arrived, she was slumped in her chair and not responding at all. After checking her over, the staff felt she had gone into acute cardiac failure, and they called for an ambulance.

I was at The Framery where I get most of my works framed. I decided long ago to save my sanity by never again attempting to cut my own mats. The guys who run the little frame shop down the street from my studio are great about letting me bring old frames I scavenge from garage sales and antique shops and cutting them to fit my work. Then, all I have to pay for is the matting and a small fee for the cuts. Plus, I get the added benefit of recycling old, used frames that might otherwise end up in our county landfill.

For my sky painting, I had chosen a silver frame and a warm, white mat that matched the color of my clouds. Having just unwrapped the work to see it for the first time in its entirety, my phone rang. I answered Mom's call excited to tell her how great the painting looked only to find out Gramma was being rushed to the emergency room.

During the long afternoon and evening ahead, Gramma was mostly unresponsive, and her breathing had taken on this loud, rattling sound. Every now and then she would moan, and I would talk to her until she calmed back down and slept. It seemed like forever before they finally admitted her officially and called our doctor's group in to consult.

Thankfully, we got Doctor Woodward. While he was assessing Gramma, he began discussing our options for treatments to remove the fluids from her lungs. I said that if I could convince him to do a Dr. Kevorkian I would. I complained about the fact that we had just been able to euthanize our elderly, suffering cat several weeks ago but could not offer the same dignity to my own Gramma. He responded that we were often more humane to our animals, but then miracle of miracles, he began to talk to my family about the option of "comfort care." He admitted that the hospital did not have to treat her at all, but could just give her pain medications and keep her comfortable until the end.

Gramma already had a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order in her living will, so it seemed we knew where she stood on the issue. Plus, the doctor admitted that even it they treated the fluid in her lungs, they had nothing to help heart failure of this stage, and we would simply be prolonging life until her lungs filled up with fluids again in short order. It seems a no brainer, but in the face of actually making the choice, we were all a little hesitant. How do we know for sure we are making the right decision? As if on cue, Gramma woke up and began to mumble to me. I was rubbing her forehead and she said it felt good. Then, she said as clear as a bell, "Please, please. I just want to go home. Help me find my way home."

The doctor moved Gramma up to a room in the stunning, new oncology ward with a view of the mountains. The hospital provided us with a pull-out couch and a lazy chair so we could be comfortable, and they called the hospice people to speak with us the following day. The doctor made sure Gramma was given morphine right away, and they took her off all other medications. In short order, she was sleeping deeply and seemed fairly comfortable apart from the horrible, loud, rattling breaths she took in a steady rhythm. I fell asleep that night to the steady rattle and the burbling of the humidified oxygen tank running above her head. She only woke once during the night and the nurses gave her another dose of morphine, quickly returning her to a deep sleep.

The following day, my family came to the hospital to relieve me. I convinced Mom to go home at 4 am and get a few hours of sleep in her own bed since she is dealing with a torn rotater cuff in her shoulder. Plus, I had the upcoming art show at my studio with 300 guest already invited on Sunday afternoon. It was Friday, and we had not yet hung the art on the walls. I was going to need to leave for a while at some point, too. Mom and my uncle convinced me it would be okay, although I felt a little frantic about leaving. We got a friend to come help us hang the art, and together with my studio mate, we worked non-stop to get the whole thing done as fast as possible. By late afternoon, I was back where I belonged at my Gramma's side. I convinced my family to go have a supper break, and I got some alone time with her to make up for leaving. I was so tired, I fell asleep holding her hand by the bed for a while.

Something woke me out of a deep slumber to find Gramma's eyes open. She was staring off into the distance and moving her eyebrows around a bit as if she was straining to make out what was there. Worried she was in pain, I called for another dose of morphine. Just after the nurse administered it into her IV, I began to rub her forehead and sing to her, trying to comfort her back to sleep, but she just kept looking into the distance. I sang her favorite song, "The Lord of the Dance," and another Shaker tune called, "How Can I Keep From Singing." I sang my favorite Ben Harper song, "Blessed to be a Witness." Then, I sang "Amazing Grace." I kept coming back to the verse that ends, "Twas Grace that brought us safe thus far, and Grace will lead me home," so I sang that verse to her twice more.

When the singing ended, Gramma took three more breaths and she was gone. The room went from the loud rattling to a still, quiet, comforting peace. Gramma's face went from struggling to see that distant object to a calm look of rest. While the nurses came in to listen to her heart, I called Mom to let her know. Within five minute, Gramma was pronounced officially home at last, and my painting had its title...The Long Journey Home.

Sick of Being Sick

2010-03-24T10:11:00.000-07:00

While the world wakes up around me with the lovely sounds of spring, and the sun begins to warm up the over frozen ground, I am going back to bed. After a miserable time of nursing my Gramma back to semi-health from pneumonia a couple of weeks ago, I picked up whatever virus has been keeping every bed at every hospital in town full. Let me just state the obvious: I'm not having fun!

My doctor told me I was in for at least ten days of hell, and although I thought at the time it really wasn't helpful to be told such a thing, I guess it has kept me from panicking too much. I still don't feel a whole heap better at ten days than I did on day one. Alas, I did get one house call out of him, an extra-ordinary circumstance, to be sure. He was afraid I had contracted meningitis, but because the hospitals are so over-run, he came over to my house. I am happy to report, I do not have meningitis. Plus, I now am the proud possessor of antibiotics, something he doesn't give lightly.

Anyway, there isn't much fun to report here, nor do I have the brain power, filled as it is with all assortment of bugs and drugs, to write anything too delightful for your reading pleasure just now. So, I have opted to link you to a few places where my work has recently been published in hopes you might enjoy a poem or two of mine and some of the fine writing of others.

I was honored recently when my grad school professors invited me to publish some of my work on the Goddard Blog along with their own writings and some of the incredible talents of alums and current students.

Yet another poem has been published in The Canary this month by Hip Pocket Press. The editor, Gail Entrekin, has been fabulous to me, and I will be eternally grateful. You don't want to miss reading some of the back issues of this journal if you are a fan of poetry and prose.

Last, but certainly not least, I am linking you to an old article in the Lynchburg News and Advance about the Art Box move to its new location, because this is where you can find the new Art on 12th Studios and Galleries. I rent studio number one with my business partner, Terri Miller. We will be having our first opening to the public on Sunday, April 18th from 2-4:30 pm.

The paintings I chose to share are a couple of my new works in progress, which have been created since moving into my fabulous new space on January 1st of this year. We are excited to finally be officially opening the renovated upstairs spaces to the public. We being myself and a dozen other artists living and working in Lynchburg.

If you live in the area, come on down to the new Art Box on the corner of Grace and 12th Street in downtown Lynchburg, and check out all the great stuff Anne has for sale. Sign up for some of the ongoing classes by several resident artists in a number of media, and by all means, wander upstairs and visit the artists at work. We look forward to seeing you!

Caribbean Sun Cures Snow Overdose!

2010-02-10T16:51:00.001-08:00

Today, I was supposed to be driving to Vermont for my grad school residency. Romantically, I thought it would be lovely to go to Vermont in February. I am always reminded of Bing Crosby and Danny Kay. "Vermont must be lovely this time of year, all that snow and all." I mean lets face it, we never get any snow down here in Forest, Virginia. Oh, the mountains get snow, but here in the valley we get maybe one good snow a year if that. I never dreamed that I would be going to Vermont to get away from the snow. Jeez.

Now, with the promise of Plainfield's mild winter weather (balmy 22 and very little snow on the ground), I can't get to Vermont no matter what I try. Why? Because there may not be snow in Vermont, but there's so much freaking snow in every state between here and there that most of the interstates are closed and all of the airports in the north east as far west as Chicago don't plan on flying any time soon.

Instead, I am stuck in my house, which thankfully has heat and electricity (don't think I'm not grateful), and I must wait until the snow stops. We have not seen green grass for the whole winter. It is buried under several feet of snow. The wind is blowing so hard out there that it sounds like it will tear the roof off, and even the inches of ice on top is not stopping the drift. The garage door is frozen closed, and I might as well move back to northern Indiana.

So, in the interest of fighting the winter blues, I would like to share a few pictures from my recent cruise of the Caribbean. We dubbed the vacation the "Mom and Me 2010 Cruise." My two girlfriends and all of our mothers went with me on the Carnival Legend for all kinds of fun in the sun. Our stops? Grand Caymans, Cozumel, Belize, and Roatan in the Honduras. It was fabulous. Perhaps the sunny images will lend some warmth to our frigid winter hearts...

First, we have the fabulous stingrays of our stingray encounter in Grand Caymans.

The face of the Tulum Ruins in Mexico

Can you find the hidden Iguana?

Mexican crab in Playa del Carmen.

The view from the top of Altan-Ha Temple in Belize

Oh I loved the Voracious Insect Bats in Belize too!

Alas, the sun must set on all good things.

Extended Vacation

2009-12-08T06:16:00.000-08:00

The month of me was spectacular, perhaps a bit too good since it translated into my extended vacation from blogging and writing anything beyond my research for graduate school. Actually, the real excuse is a heavy paper dealing with ethics in the making, valuation, and sale of art. This is a subject which brings up horrible memories of a controversial time at Randolph College. I have been reticent to say anything about it for reasons I won't go into here. Suffice it to say, it has been a difficult, complex, and heart wrenching task of reliving an unpleasant past. Although the writing of it is important to my graduate work, and I would not shirk its necessity, it has taken a bit of the joy out of writing for me in the process. Now that the semester is over, and the initial draft is complete, I begin to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Perhaps when I finish my paper, I'll be less cryptic and share my feelings on the events and the subject here. Right now, I am ready to walk away from the whole thing and enjoy my extended vacation. On that note, I leave today for a cruise of the Caribbean. Woohoo!

Anyway, instead of talking about ethics, the environment, and art, lets talk about me. Specifically, the month of me. I promised I would tell you all about it, and then I got selfish and took several months off. I am prone to selfish acts. I'll admit it. Anyway, the month of me was spectacular and I think I may have had the best fortieth birthday of anyone on record in the history of humanity. I'm not even sure I remember everything I did during the month, but the highlights were exceptional.

I started out with a trip to Washington, D.C. to visit the National Gallery and the Hirshorne museum. We stayed at the Marriott Courtyard right beside the National Portrait Gallery. Apart from the typical frustration of driving in the convoluted streets of that city and the ridiculous cost of parking, we had a fabulous time walking the streets, enjoying art, eating great food. I got spectacular photos. My favorite is of the amazing sculpture pictured above by Ron Mueck at the Hirshorne and the New York fan who was equally awed by it.

Next was the highlight of my month, Shakori Hills music festival and an entire weekend with many of my dearest friends camping, enjoying and making music, and dancing till our feet ached. My lovely zoo peeps all came out to help me celebrate, as did my partner in crime and art making, Terri, who drove all the way from Lynchburg with an injured back to join the mayhem. She was a great sport! Nikki baked me a cow cake which made me laugh and laugh. Another story for another time. Pete dressed me up like a princess in tiara and jewels, to which Terri added a really cool scepter that lit up and played magical sounds. We sat around camp fires, listened to fantastic music and generally laughed until our sides ached.

But, I haven't even gotten started. My dear friends Kimmy and David cooked up some serious surprises for me along with the rest of my friends in Donna the Buffalo, the best band in the world. So, not only did they bring me fun decorations for the campsite and lovely gifts both in the bag and in their presence, they also had my favorite songs added to the Saturday night set list, dedicated a special version of my all-time favorite song, Conscious Evolution, to me and had my all-time favorite guitarist, Jeb Puryear, wish me a happy birthday, not once, but twice during the show. Wow! I was really floored. Now, you'd think the month of me would end there. I mean, how much more fun can one girl have? Oh, I haven't even gotten started.

After Donna ended what I now think of as my birthday set, we all waltzed on over to the dance tent to dance for several more hours to my second favorite band in the whole world, The Duhks. Maybe it was just the rosy glow of my party, although I really didn't drink that much, so I don't think so, but I feel like that particular set was one of the best I have seen by this talented band. I lost my magical scepter at some point during the show, but the magic seemed to stay with me regardless.

After, Leonard and several of my friends in the band hung out and closed down the dance tent. Then Christian, the drummer, David, and Kimmy and I ended up finished out to rest of the night, literally, laughing until the sun came up over at their campsite. I'm fairly certain the laughter alone lifted several years off my life. So, my actual birthday party ended with three dear friends and partners in mayhem watching the sun come up over the sheep field and wondering at the manliness of those big-boy sheep. They are really quite spectacular in ways we shouldn't discuss here.

As it turns out, the scepter went on to have its own fabulous party and found the perfect home away from me. Apparently, my friend Kath's daughters found it and had all kinds of fun playing with it until they tried brandishing it over the guy in the chicken suit who drives the hay ride tractors around the park. I guess they were trying to turn him into a frog. It didn't work, but he ended up with the magical instrument of birthday power and carried it around the rest of the weekend threatening the unruly children with it. I kept hearing the squeals of delight that followed it's funny electronic sounds, and I figured it was right where it belonged, spreading the magic of joy and laughter throughout the park.

But, fear not. I was still not without its magical powers because the magical fun did not end with the party, as one might expect. No the next day, after one short hour of sleep, as the campers began to rise from their warm sleeping bags, I woke unable to fall back to sleep. Feeling bleary, I opted for a shower and some coffee. So, I dragged myself out of bed, and took care of business. Once I had coffee in hand, I was beginning to feel mildly human again as the sounds of Keith Secola drifted across the main stage field with the unmistakable guitar riffs of Jeb Puryear wandering along the scale. Like a bee to honey, I followed the music and stood near the stage drinking in the sounds, letting the music wake me up.

Perhaps five minutes passed before I was being pulled by one of my herd friends, Gail, towards the stage steps, and led right up onto the stage to become one of the fry bread backup singers for the band. Suddenly, I am on stage directly in front of Jeb with a microphone in front of me singing. How did this happen? I had to laugh. So, I sang along, and danced and generally tried to make myself smaller since I figured most people would rather see Jeb play his guitar than me dancing around and pretending to be a professional singer. Still, it was amazing, a new perspective on the festival and perhaps one of the most fun things I've ever done at Shakori Hills. Thanks Keith. If you ever need a full-time singer, look me up.

Oh, and I cannot forget to mention the best dancing at Shakori every year in the dance tent when Preston Frank takes the stage. That man knows how to play some Zydeco. Put him together with Donna the Buffalo as his band, and you have some of the finest dance music ever played. So, we danced and we danced and we danced for the rest of the day.

Although the weekend was swiftly drawing to a close, I still had one more wonderful thing to come. David's son Riley, who is twelve, decided he wanted to play the drums with his dad's band for the first time during the Friends of Donna the Buffalo ritual closing concert of the festival. Can I tell you, he rocked the house. The musical talent in that family will indeed live on in Riley McCracken. I'm personally looking forward to many years as one of his groupies. We were all very impressed, including Tara, and I get the sense she does not impress easily. Christian Dugas of the Duhks also sang a lovely ballad, but not from his comfort zone behind the drums, but rather in front of the band. Although he seemed a bit nervous about it before the fact, he was impressively composed onstage and sang a hauntingly lovely song for the crowd. It was a spectacular birthday party to be sure. Thanks go out to all my fabulous friends and family who made my birthday one to remember. I love you all!

Photos appear courtesy of Bill Davis. Thanks Bill!

The Month of Me

2009-10-01T05:00:00.000-07:00

So, this month I turn forty. I'm actually rather excited about it, not at all freaking out like I did when I turned thirty. This time, I feel like I'm entering the best years of my life. Anyway, as a gift to myself, the month of October has been designated the month of me. This year, I'm doing it up in a big way. Wait until you hear about all the stuff I have planned to celebrate. I'll be blogging about it as I go. After the really shitty end to the month of September, things can only go up from here.

You see, Mom was reading the paper a few nights back, and there in the obits was a photo of one of our dearest friends, Bill Spruill. This man was a constant in our lives, one of those people who could show up unannounced, let himself in the house, and make himself right at home. One of those people you hoped would do just that. Every time he showed up, the world seemed a little bit brighter. Maybe this was because, like the photos, he was always wide open, always laughing, always so full of life. I don't even have a picture where he isn't grinning, head thrown back, eyes all squinted. And, most every picture of him also means everyone else around him is laughing too like the picture above. I cannot believe he's gone.

So, today, I begin the month of me at his memorial paying my respects to one of my favorite people. This might sound a bad way to start the month, but here's the thing. I plan to make a promise to Bill today to live my life as he lived his, like every day was the most important, like the present is all I have , so I'd best make the most of it. Then, after his memorial, Mom and I will take off for DC. We will wake our friend tonight with a fabulous meal in some swanky restaurant, perhaps enjoy their best champagne, raise a glass to him, and tomorrow we will hit the art museums, maybe shop in the village. Bill would have loved that. He would have joined us and soaked up every second. Although I will miss him terribly, its a comfort to know he'll be smiling down on us where ever we go.

Happy trails Bill! May your journey be sweet, and may you see all the things you missed down here on earth. I love you and I'll miss you! Until we meet again...

Where've You Been?

2009-09-23T05:49:00.000-07:00

To borrow a title from Kathy Mattea, I'm sure those who read me are wondering what the heck happened. Well, perhaps after reading the last post about Goddard and my entrance into graduate school they might have a clue, but still. I have been bad about sitting down to blog. I have missed it and most of my writing terribly. Holding down a part-time job, running a pet sitting business, painting commissioned works, and freelance writing all four was a bit too much. The part-time job had to go. I worked my last days there just last week. That gives me twenty hours of my life back. It may not seem like much, but you'd be surprised. Lately, whenever I have a moment free, I find myself up on the parkway taking photos of the monarch migration and wishing them a safe journey and a safe haven to return to in Mexico, knowing full well both are improbable at best, but it never hurts to put the positive energy forward. The photos included are from these forays onto the Blue Ridge Parkway. The two below are called Coexistence One and Coexistence Two.

I love my pet sitting gig, most of the time, but after this summer, I have to admit I'm glad the traveling season is slowing down a bit now, for others anyway. It will be picking up for me. I have booked a trip to DC and to NYC both to look at the galleries and museum shows. It's such a hardship having to travel to the city to look at art. I don't know how I'll survive this graduate school gig. As a result, I will spend my fortieth birthday in one of my favorite cities on earth, New York. Mom got us a hotel five miles from Manhatten, basically across one of the bridges and several blocks from MOMA. To all you Shakori Hills peeps, never fear, my actual birthday is the week after the festival, so I WILL be celebrating at both locations this year. After forty years, I think I deserve a double whammy. This promises to be a great birthday.

Anyhow, that sums up most of the news for me, oh except I forgot to mention one tiny little thing. My poems have now been published. One in a book called Watermarks that is for sale by the Maier Museum of Art, and the other by Hip Pocket Press in the Canary. You can read that one here, and feel free to pass the link along to your friends. I hope you enjoy and promise to try and return to the regularly scheduled blogging program.

Goddard

2009-08-19T07:45:00.000-07:00

After a year off, I am officially showing my masochistic tendencies again as a proud member of the Goddard College IMA program. Two and a half years from now, I will walk away from this experience with my Masters degree in Arts with a concentration in Environmental Studies. More importantly, I will walk away with a much stronger sense of who I am and what I have to say. I already feel like I have taken huge strides towards that end after only one residency. The program is what they call a low residency program, meaning you attend sessions on campus twice a year and the rest of the time you work from home. Some call it distance learning. In some ways, my first residency feels like a dream. Was I really there? Did all that really happen? Did I really make all those great discoveries about myself and meet all those great people? The only hard evidence I have of it now are the photos and the new facebook friends who appear to share the same memories, so I guess it did happen.

They told me it would be frustrating, having such a profound experience and then having no real vocabulary with which to speak about it that might remotely do it justice. I have toyed with posting this blog for days, trying to come up with something, and I have to admit they were right. (They being the other graduate students and faculty at Goddard who have lived through this experience in the past.) The best I can come up with is to say that it was like existing in another energy field entirely, one where my brain ran on some other wavelength. I walked around like an exposed synapse nerve soaking everything in and processing it at an alarming rate. It was wonderful, inspiring, frightening, emotional, confusing business. Most of all it was just amazing. I really didn't want to leave, but I fear if it had lasted any longer, I might not have survived it.

I came home more tired than I have ever felt in my whole life. However, its a good tired because I know I've accomplished something positive, started down a life altering path towards something more. The thought of the hard work doesn't scare me too much. Oh, yes, it does. No, it doesn't. I'm trying to get a grip on it. I don't mind the work, in fact, I think I will enjoy it, but still any kind of new life- altering path is bound to be a little scary, right? I have never been one to let that stop me, and it certainly won't stop me now.

Anyway, the program is really amazing. Tailor made for eclectic people like me who don't believe in the need to "specialize" in one field of study. My world makes no sense by splitting it into categories. Better to integrate, study in the places where subjects and disciplines come together, since this is the way the real world works. I never understood the idea put forth by academia that says you should choose and focus in on one thing. Since when does this truly serve anyone in their daily lives? Better, if you ask me, to be able to synthesize and use the knowledge you have gathered in multiple disciplines, particularly in today's world where multi-tasking is the norm. But, that is an argument better left for another time. I don't have the energy for it right now. Suffice it to say, Goddard's truly interdisciplinary approach to education was what sold me on them.

Lots of colleges, particularly those with low residency programs in the arts, say they are interdisciplinary, yet when I looked into them, they still expected me to specialize in one thing or the other. Goddard believes this is not necessary for everyone. Instead, they let me choose from three disciplines, and even those could be fairly broad, as long as I could fashion a study plan for the program which proved they were all necessary and which will lead me to produce something of value to give back to society when my degree is complete.

I chose to work in Environmental Studies, Creative Writing, and the Arts. My project includes looking at things like Animal Cognitive Studies and Deep Ecology, as well as Contemporary Environmental Art and Resurgence Art so that I can find the place for my own voice, my own talents. Although coming up with the study plan wasn't easy, I came home full of excitement, and after sleeping for nearly two days, I hit the ground running. Suzi Gablik, who I had the great pleasure to meet recently, will be glad to know that several of her books are among the first things on my reading list, as is the book Deep Ecology by Devall and Session. I'll be studying these and many, many more. Plus, I will be forced to view and write about all kinds of Contemporary Art. Such a hardship for me. :)

So, what have I gained? Well, first and foremost, the honor of calling so many wonderful new people friends and colleagues. All of the people I met in the Goddard community have been the most wonderful, accepting, open, intelligent, and loving group of people. Everyone leads with what feels like their genuine selves, all coming to the campus willing to share and give openly and honestly, willing to make this experience a safe place for everyone to explore themselves and learn about the world. This is a rare gift. Coming from someone who suffers from social anxiety, it was truly amazing to step into a place where I never once felt worried about sharing myself, my ideas, my life, my secrets, anything.

Could there be some magical spell over the campus? I am starting to see the possibility. I do know the connections I have made there will last a lifetime. Even if we cross oceans, if we don't stay in touch, we will always be connected by our time at Goddard, by our shared experiences, by the gifts we gave to each other of ourselves. That may sound like ridiculous hippie talk to an outsider, but that does not make it less true. For the gifts offered and shared last week from all of my Goddard community, more than anything else, I am grateful. I start this journey looking forward to all the other connections I will make, all the new knowledge I will gain, all the new paths that will surely open up along my life's journey, paths that will all start on one magical campus in Plainfield Vermont.

Floyd Fest 2009 Journal

2009-07-30T14:47:00.000-07:00

For the past five years, my girlfriends (often referred to as the peeps) and I have headed up to the mountains of Floyd, Virginia for the Floyd Fest, a wonderful festival featuring music from around the world. It was a memorable Floyd Fest two year ago that first introduced me to Xaviar Rudd. Every year, they manage to introduce us to at least one fabulous new musician a year. This year's new band was The Belleville Outfit.

Anyway, we rent a cabin from the Wades, friends of my family. The cabin is just eight miles from the festival ground and right off the Blue Ridge Parkway. I didn't realize how much that place means to me until I pulled into the drive this year and felt the stress just melt off my bones. I guess it's the quiet, or maybe I just enjoy the fresh, cool mountain air, a welcome change from the heat of July here in the Lynchburg valley. It's almost sacred, this ritual of ours to attend the festival every year. When any of the girls cannot make it, even for a day, there is no measure to the amount of grief one might get from the rest of the group unless they can produce a really good excuse. Work simply doesn't cut it.

No matter how tight the money is, how busy the life is, how much craziness is going on in our lives, we would not any of us dream of missing this annual event. Even if we can only squeeze in one day, we all look forward to Floyd Fest for the whole year, and on the last day of the festival each year, we sit at Chateau Morisette on the terrace sipping wine and trying to put off the inevitable drive back to our respective lives, because none of us wants the weekend end.

This year's Floyd Fest was a real treat for me, even more than usual. Having just lived through the busiest July pet sitting season on record, where I had literally worked from dawn until midnight almost everyday without a day off for weeks on end, I so needed a break. Driving up to Floyd on the parkway at night on Wednesday was not the brightest idea, since the darkness is all consuming when there are clouds in the sky, but I could not bring myself to stay home one second longer. I left right after the last pet sitting gig was finished and met my friend Nikki a day early so we could be at the festival bright in the morning to set up our day tent in prime real estate.

Last year, we had to plunk our tent down in the middle of a poison ivy patch on a fairly steep hill because we got to the festival late on Thursday and the good spots were already taken. This year, we made sure that didn't happen again and our tent was right where we like it, just behind the dance tent in the middle of all the best music stages and not too far from the beer garden. Some crazy person put a blow-up monkey in the tree near our camp, and we affectionately named him "Shock." He made finding the tent fairly easy.

After five years of attending the festival for fun, this year was also a little bit of a working vacation, although it didn't seem like work at all. If you've been following me or know me at all, you know that I write regularly for Got2BeGreen online journal. This year, they offered to send me to the festival as a representative of the press, asking if I had any musicians I wanted to interview for the journal. Did I ever have musicians I wanted to interview! This year's Floyd had quite a lineup, including Donna the Buffalo, my favorite band of all time, The Duhks who run a close second, and The Horse Flies who make my top ten list, not to mention Toubab Krew, and The Blues Traveler, and many, many more. So, of course I said yes to my editors and agreed to go as a representative for their company, even though this meant I had to behave myself. I wanted interviews with Donna the Buffalo and The Duhks in particular, but also with Blues Traveler. Although I figured I'd get to talk to a few people, I never dreamed I would get to meet almost everyone on my top list of performers and many, many more.

Having been friends for some time with David McCracken, keyboardist for Donna the Buffalo, and having cruised the Caribbean with the band, I was fairly sure they would agree to speak with me. But, they were even cooler than I expected. David took me right up onto their bus and the majority of the band was there. I enjoyed chatting with he and his son Riley, and Vic Stafford, the band's drummer. They made me feel right at home in their little traveling world and I was absolutely thrilled. I can tell David thinks it's kind of funny how star struck I am over his band. It's just that they are the first band I ever loved enough to follow around the country. I'd even follow them around the world. They are also the first band that has taken me in, the first band I've ever been able to mingle with comfortably. It's been a real treat.

Now, having David as an official band member makes it even more exciting to be a screaming girl in the front row at one of their shows. I scream regularly with David's girlfriend Kimmy and the peeps while he laughs at our silliness. I know I've said it before, but I'll just say again! You should never pass up any opportunity to hear this amazing band live and meet the wonderful "herd" of followers who travel with them. After eight years, I still look forward to every show and I am never let down.

This year, during their one and only set at the festival, the bottom literally fell out of the sky just as the band started to play "40 Days and 40 Nights." The rain fell as the band got to the line that said "it rained and rained just like cats and dogs." Even with the water soaking their instruments, they never missed a note and they played on through a great rendition of "Mystic Waters" while the storm had it's fast and furious rage with us. Rain was pouring right onto the stage at a slant, slapping the band in the face, dripping from Jeb's hat while the symbols sent sprays out each time Vic hit them. By the end of the second song, however, they seemed to bring back the sun, and they were even graced with a rainbow behind the stage for all their hard work. After taking only a few moments to swap the no longer working keyboards with some from back stage, towel off the guitars and drums, and change a couple of shirts, the show went on without blinking an eye. How many other bands have you seen pull that off? It was amazing. The crowd went wild, and the show went into my memory banks as one of the best I've ever experienced. I really hope David's keyboards lived beyond the soaking. I have yet to hear from him on that.

Not only did Donna the Buffalo welcome me into their midst after the show, but so too did the Duhks. I met Leonard, singer/songwriter and banjo player extraordinaire, some years ago at Shakori Hills before they were grammy nominees, and I've made every Duhks show I could manage since that day. Even though several members of the band have changed, the music just keeps getting better and better. This year, Leonard hooked me up with Tania Elizabeth, the band's superbly talented fiddler and singer, to talk about their GreenDuhks project. Having just met me minutes before, Tania invited me to join her in the dinner tent, where I had the pleasure of also meeting Sarah Dugas, the band's lead singer, as well. They were both so nice about allowing me to intrude on their down time, and Tania agreed to find a quiet spot and give me a formal interview about all of the wonderful things she has been doing to promote healthy living on the road for the band and other musicians, and all the ways they are trying to engage their fans about living green during their shows. She truly is leading by example, giving me yet another reason to love this talented group of musicians.

And if that weren't enough, The Horse Flies came down from New York to join the Floyd Fest this year. They had not been touring outside New York much until a few months ago when they joined us at Shakori Hills, and I got my first chance to experience their music live. Many members of the herd have shared their music with me over the years. They kept telling me I needed to hear this band and their hard to define mix of sounds, but since the band lost their bass player six years ago (he passed away), the band had not been traveling outside of New York, or even performing together that I know of, and I had resigned myself to making do with the few songs I already owned on mixed cds. But, apparently they have found new life and have added a few new band members, and they are back out on the road spreading their sound around again.

Riding on my previous success with the bands my friends play in, I got the courage to ask Judy, the Horse Flies fiddler, if she would be willing to talk with me. Not only did I get to speak with her, but the whole band joined in and they even signed my new CD while they were at it. The only one missing was Taka, their djembe drummer. All in all, it really was a dream come true to be able to walk right up and chat with some of the most talented musicians of my time. I'm not sure why I felt I couldn't before, since I keep finding them all to be normal people with the good fortune to have found and cultivated their exceptional gifts. There really is no reason they can't be spoken to like any other human, but somehow they have all seemed unapproachable until I had the good fortune to make friends with several of them along the way. The official press badge didn't hurt either, adding that extra confidence booster I needed. Although the festival never really offered me any assistance besides the badge and a last minute email about parking. It seems I may have fallen between the cracks this year, so I cannot thank both my cool editors at Got2BeGreen and Svetlana at Floyd Fest, who scrambled to find me my (presumably) lost press pass at the last minute. Thanks to all of you for helping to make a real dream come true for me this weekend. Make sure to check out Got2BeGreen over the next couple of weeks for interviews with the bands.

The only band I could not even get within spitting distance of was Blues Traveler. They pulled the big star routine, having bouncers who would not even let me walk past their bus to get into the VIP tent, where I was actually headed to meet David and Kimmy after the show. These big burly guys in black t-shirts made me walk around the long way, as if I was going to pull the whole groupie routine and throw myself on the band screaming. As much as I would have loved to chat with any of them, the stupid groupie routine really isn't my style any more. Prehaps twenty years ago...Okay, I'll admit it, I did throw myself at David Lee Roth back when I was a teenager. He was really tolerant and kissed my cheek, and I was never going to wash it again. Now, I'm more than a bit embarrassed by the whole thing. What was I thinking being in love with him anyway? Oh, how I loved the hair bands back then. What can I say, I was young. I'm well over those days, well beyond acting too completely retarded in front of the rich and famous, no matter who they are. I could probably even restrain my baser impulses around Bruce Springsteen if I needed to. Well, at least I think I could.

Now, after meeting many musicians from all over the world, playing in so many different genres, people like Xaviar Rudd, Nawal, The Uppity Blues Women, Railroad Earth, Allison Krauss, and Kathy Mattea, not to mention Sarah Dugas and Vic Stafford pictured here, and so far finding most of them down to earth and completely approachable, I was not at all impressed with the Blues Traveler's big shot routine. There really is no need to pull out the "look how big my star is."

My girlfriend Serena, the master of the scam (and I mean that in the most affectionate and positive way, since I've always wished I had even one tenth of her nerves of steel when it comes to dealing with the world), offered to scam our way onto the Blues Traveler bus, and I have no doubt if she put her mind to it, she would have gotten us there, but in the end I really didn't want to go. After all the fabulous fun I had talking to almost every other musician at the festival, I decided I'd rather not have to scam my way into some star's presence when so many are perfectly willing to be approached just like every other human being. I think I'd rather just view it as their loss. They missed a wonderful opportunity to meet me. Too bad for them.

All photos were provided by Amanda C. Sandos or Kimmy Tiedemann.

The Dog Days of Summer

2009-07-09T07:26:00.000-07:00

This month finds me pet sitting for everyone and their mothers, literally. I even have my own mother pet sitting for me because I don't have enough hours in the day. With the economy down, and after months of nobody hiring, I am happy to report that people are traveling once more, and this has been my busiest July on record,(July always being the busiest month of the year.)If you have not seen the movie Best In Show, give it a look and you will get a glimpse into my life. I love my clients, but they ask for some really weird stuff. You have no idea. Anyway, since all of this pet sitting offers me little time to write, or even hit the on switch on my computer for that matter, I have opted to provide you with a photo essay and introduce you to some of my doggy friends. Most of the photos were taken with a cheap cell phone, so don't expect art here folks.

For all you cat lovers, I have plenty of cat friends too, but as you know, most of them are not interested in pleasing said pet sitter, and are often not cooperative about having their pictures taken. Also, I highly doubt any of them will give their consent to have their photos posted publicly online. Since I don't want any law suits,and if any animal could pull off suing me and win it would be a cat, I'm sticking to the happy-go-lucky, non-legally savvy dogs.

Meet a few of the pack:

First and foremost, the fabulous Kevlar, who belongs to one of Lynchburg's finest.

Next we have Max and Sophie, showing a bit of the size differential I'm dealing with.

Give it up for Isabella and Diana. Goddesses of the dog world. Diana will tell you!

Here's Belle enjoying her 4th of July feast.

Let us not forget Ida Street, fab dog of my mentor and lit professor at RMWC.

Here's Lola and Ringo who belong to a French woman so they only speak French. All I know is how to say to them is yes, no, come, sit, stay, and very good. We get along anyway. Some things are never lost in translation.

Here's Lacy, my little diabetic dog. Her twin sister Gabby thinks she's a cat, so no pictures, please.

Last but most certainly never least, here are my very own babies. Yummy belongs to my Mom. He has few teeth, so his tongue hangs out a lot.

Here's my fabulous Mercy. Look at that belly! She's the best hugger ever. When you squeeze her, she rumbles. She loves it!

Cinco loves to hang out by the pool and lay in the sun, but she's not at all impressed with the cute boys.

So, there are just a few of my dog friends. I hope you have dog friends too. They really are the best kind!

Mountain Top Removal-A Crime Against More Than Nature

2009-06-30T18:02:00.000-07:00

“Every time you turn on a light switch, BOOM, you’re blowing up someone’s back yard.” I was introduced to Ed Wiley, the extraordinary man just quoted, by Kathy Mattea backstage at the Mountain Aid Benefit Concert. She came out to Shakori Hills on her fiftieth birthday to help Ed raise money for his granddaughter and all the children of Marsh Fork Elementary School who are victims of mountain top removal coal mining. Just three hundred feet behind this school, there is a 1,849 acre mountain top removal sight with an unstable slate dam holding 2.8 billion gallons of toxic waste from the coal cleaning process. The community’s water supply is already contaminated, and the children of Marsh Fork Elementary have been going home sick on a regular basis for months. For more go to my latest article at Got2BeGreen.

Finding Grace

2009-06-26T23:04:00.001-07:00

Tonight, I stepped out onto my back porch to let my dogs out one last time. The night was still and silent, except for the chirping of insects and the rustle of leaves from the constant warm breeze blowing. The flash of what my family calls heat lightening occasionally lit up the mountain ridges in the distance and the huge round bails of hay still waiting in our fields to be taken as feed for the local cows. All at once, in that moment, quite out of the blue, I found Grace again. She visits me every so often, washing a kind of happy peace over my being. It's the kind of feeling you only get when you aren't seeking it, the kind of feeling that leaves you a little giddy, a little breathless, and most of all a whole lot alive.

Once, a while ago, how long I don't even remember, Grace visited me during a mighty hurricane and allowed me to find peaceful sleep while the winds blew loud and long, making the sound of an oncoming train. One moment, I was close to panic with fear all alone with my dogs in a house with far too many windows, and the next moment, I just had the overwhelming understanding that I was safe and everything was going to be fine. The next morning, I sat down to write the beginnings of the following poem. I thought tonight it was time to share it.

Grace in the Face of Fear

Will you rise up to form the still waters,
turn your head to the oncoming storm,
track the clouds building walls pushing toward you,
know the winds that will blow them along?

When the darkness comes down with a fury,
angry words seem to rasp in your ear, hear
the groaning whipped limbs of the forest
and the roar when rain pelts the parched fields.

When the water runs off raging rivers,
soil eroding where earth seems to drown,
will you stay, stretch your arms to the tempest,
lift your face to the sky, stand your ground?

For the one who accepts what is coming,
calmly gathers her strength, bides her time,
breathes a sigh for the change that’s upon her,
casts off doubts, sets aspersions aside, she

finds Grace where so many will miss it,
in the quiet, cool lake of her mind,
where a voice calmly sings of the wonders
and the peace that the seekers shall find.

Mountain Aid at Shakori Hills

2009-06-24T06:15:00.000-07:00

Last Saturday, my mom and I met Kathy Mattea at the Mountain Aid benefit concert on Shakori Hills farm in Silk Hope, North Carolina. We went to the show because it was a good cause, and also because my friend, David McCracken was playing with my favorite band Donna the Buffalo at the end of the evening. Mom hadn't met David and his other half, Kimmy, and we wanted to remedy that. What better time than at a benefit concert to stop injustice. Anyway, before last weekend, had you asked if I was a fan of Kathy Mattea, I would have said, "Sure, I liked that song about the Grandparents. What was that again?"

Ask me now, I'll tell you that woman is amazing. What a voice. Her deep, alto sound is one you can't mistake, plus she really puts her heart and soul into it and transfers that onto the crowd. Several grown men stood around the field and cried during a few of the sad songs. But, she also pulled me out of my chair several times, because my feet just wouldn't stay still. Her Americana music is a little bit country, a little bit folk, bluegrass, and let's not forget a touch of the Irish, thanks to her fiddle/mandolin player and her own talent on the piccolo and penny whistles. I had no idea.

What a personality. Kathy is down to earth, very caring, an open and giving person. One might think this is just how she makes herself appear onstage, but behind the scenes she was equally open. She spoke to fans who approached her by name, remembered them and their situations, particularly those she was donating her time to help, and she took the time to chat with them, giving of herself with each conversation. When we approached Kathy, she was perfectly willing to share her own situation about her mother's Alzheimer when mom explained how "Where Have You Been" made her cry. My Gramma suffers from severe dementia and often does not remember us, either.

But, what impressed me most about Kathy was her willingness to donate so much of her time and talent to Mountain Aid, a cause that is not yet well known. It's an attempt to educate people on the effects of mountain top removal and its consequences and raise money to help those struggling to survive life in these mountains. Kathy is from West Virginia, and she very much wants to help people all over her home state and the surrounding states to cope with the destruction created by the coal mining industry, where homes are destroyed, their foundations cracked and crumbled by the blasts, where water is turned black from contamination, and so much more. These mining companies even have the nerve to dump toxic waste directly behind an elementary school. The money from Saturday's concert went towards helping the children of that school. More on this shortly at Got2BeGreen. In the meantime, you should visit here.

On a happier note, the big surprise of the day was Ben Sollee. He walked out on stage, just him and his cello, and I thought, "Oh, boy. Time to sleep." Classical music always does this to me. Not that I don't enjoy it, mind you. But, classical was not what Ben played. Well, he broke out some of it, combined it with his own style, a funky rhythmic sound, sort of like electric guitar. Sounds you had no idea a cello could make. His performance reminded me very much of the first time I saw Xaviar Rudd at Floyd Fest. He, too, walked out on stage alone with his funky didgeridoos, at the time I had no idea what they even were, and literally blew us away with his talent. By the end of the festival, everyone was lined up buying everything he was selling. The same can be said of Ben Sollee. People were even buying his vinyl albums. Yes, I typed that right. The guy likes vinyl. However, if you don't have an old school player, not to worry. He also has a CD for sale on his website. I highly recommend it. As my friend Cheryl kept saying, his music will give you goose bumps. Jessica thinks he's the next Bob Dylan. I don't know if I'd take it that far, since there can be no one equal to Bob in my book, but you get what I'm trying to say.

Last, but so not least, the night ended with my all time favorite band, Donna the Buffalo. Every good concert should close with their funky beat. How great is a band that can make people as varied as the two-year-old toddlers I saw dancing in the field all the way up to people my Mom's age dance together until their feet ache with big sloppy grins on their faces. As usual, the funky mix of zydeco, folk, country, and rock got the people moving. If you have not "herd" them, you really should give them a listen. But, to get the full impact, you must see them live somewhere, preferably at a Grassroots Festival near you.

The evening was topped by Kathy Mattea's return to the stage for an encore with Donna the Buffalo. Apparently, Tara Nevins approached her bus and convinced her to come out in her pjs and sing one more song. Kathy, who had just turned fifty at the stroke of midnight, and let me tell you doesn't look a day over forty, was happy to sing one more impromptu number with the band, even joking about being willing to come onstage without her bra. They sounded amazing together, Tara's distinct higher voice was lovely harmonizing above Kathy's gravelly alto. All in all, it was a night for the scrap books. Thanks to all who came out and played, donated their time and talent to such a great cause, and entertained us for the weekend. Thanks to Shakori Hills for hosting the event. And as usual, thanks to Donna the Buffalo for bringing their music and their wonderful herd of friends into my life.

All photos, blurry as they may be, were provided by Amanda C. Sandos

Going to Goddard

2009-06-17T20:32:00.000-07:00

How should I say this? WOOOOOHOOOOO!!!!!! Yep,that about expresses it. I just found out I was accepted into the graduate program at Goddard College in Vermont. So, I am off to the north east this August to begin an interdisciplinary study in creative writing, visual art, and environmental studies. Needless to say, I am knee-deep in paperwork here. Alas, this means less time to write what I want while I fill out the required forms and sign away my life. Nothing like amassing more debt to make a girl feel good about her future. Since the writing I submitted to the review board has already been slated to be published elsewhere, and I have promised first rights for them, I can only provide you with the link to my latest story here at Got2BeGreen, the very story I was working on in my last post, which features a few new photos not already seen here from my trip to see the Monarch sanctuaries two years ago and an interview with Dr. Lincoln Brower, a well-known expert on the species.

Below are the three of my paintings submitted to the review board. The photos I used are already elsewhere on the blog. Enjoy, while I get back to my dreaded paperwork.

Crabbing, Oil on Canvas Board, NFS

Emerald Boa, Watercolor, Sold, Prints Available

For Whom the Crow Cries, Watercolor, $100 8X10, framed

The Monarchs Return

2009-06-11T07:51:00.000-07:00

The fabulous orange and black beauties are back, flitting around our zinnia patch as I type. Although I can't explain why they first fascinated me, since my interest in them well predated my knowledge of their amazing migrations to Mexico, I have always felt a kind of joy at their return each year. Now that joy is mingled with relief each spring, since the year may come in my lifetime when they are gone, extinct due to habitat destruction and the use of chemical pesticides. These little pollinators are in grave danger.

I am hard at work crafting an article on a recent interview with Dr. Lincoln Brower, one of the world's top experts on monarchs and their migration. The article will make an appearance in the Got2BeGreen online journal very soon. I'll be sure to send out the link when it's done, but let me just tell you the news for the monarchs is not good if things both in Mexico and here in the states don't change. I don't want to give too much away before the article is published, so with monarchs on my mind, I thought I would share with you some of the artwork they have inspired. In the meantime, if you want to help the monarch survive, the very best thing you can do right now is to STOP the use of herbicides and pesticides in your yard this year. For more on alternative methods of pest control, those not harmful to butterflies, (and all the other creatures living in your gardens, ditches, and yards) go here. More on monarchs from Dr. Brower very soon, but in the meantime, enjoy some monarch magic.

Mariposas Return

Wafting on the breeze, each puff of wind sends
luminous lantern-thin wings fluttering. Golden-
orange kites patterned with black drift higher,
spiral back, flutter forward in a whirling dance.

Watching from wrought-iron windows over dusty
courtyards, families wait with golden-orange candle
flames flickering. They weave floral wreathes,
harvest the red soil, working to gather gifts
while they wait for the return of the dead.

Winging across summits, millions flit and fly
through aquamarine skies, sip flowers, cover
streams, swarm and swoop, fill the sky, shrouding
deep forests in communal comforters, their woven
warmth against winter’s chill.

Worshipers gather, jubilant, watching the celestial
flights of ancestors returned home. Gifts of warm
remembrance promenade through winding roads,
placed on graves to flash in firelight. Natives walk up
winding paths, showing reverence to these protectors
whose winged beauty cloaks winter and wakens
once more with the wealth of spring.

The following works were either taken during or inspired by my trip to Mexico to see the monarch wintering grounds. We were there just as they began to wake up and prepare for their return to my back yard here in Central Virginia. It was magical, literally, a world shrouded in butterflies. I highly recommend experiencing the magic at least once in your life.

All paintings and photographs provided by me, Amanda C. Sandos. For works for sale, visit The ARTiculates.

Harper's Hawaii

2009-06-03T08:32:00.000-07:00

Two of my dearest friends just witnessed their own little miracle last week when their first daughter, Harper, was born. About eight years ago, maybe nine now (I'm terrible with dates), I stood up for them in the most beautiful wedding on Turtle Point, a lovely sea-side area on the Big Island of Hawaii where they live. It seems fitting that the couple who had the loveliest wedding should have given birth to one of the loveliest babies I've ever laid eyes on. I would post her picture, but the happy couple needs time to do this themselves. I'd hate to steal their thunder. Regardless, I wanted to post a little something in Harper and her parent's honors, for they gifted me with the Big Island, one of my favorite places on planet earth. I look forward to my next trip out and the opportunity to hold their sweet little girl for the first time. In the meantime, I must make do with my imagination, which is not too shabby, so I really can't complain.

The following piece was a writing assignment given to me by a visiting writer while I was an undergrad in the creative writing department at Randolph-Macon Woman's College. We had to sketch a place, using some fact and some fiction to create the sketch. In this case, the facts are all of the things about the island and it's people and traditions. The fictions come through the narrator and a couple of the cast of characters who are based loosely on some of the people I met along the way. Photographs or drawings were encouraged as a part of the final product. So, here is what I turned in. I hope you like it, and I hope my friends will some day read it to Harper.

Island of Fire
A Place
I have come home. I live in the only state 2000 miles from any other land. For ten years, I tried living east coast, mainland. I was hoping to return to Maui, where I spent my childhood, but I got a job in Hilo instead, and I think I am going to like living in this little town called Volcano on the Big Island. I am already in love with the dripping, chill of the rain forest that lies here in these sun-drenched clouds.

Every day, I climb up the steep face of Kilauea to my little town, aptly named because it sits on the only volcano that is still active. The ancient Polynesians named this mountain home of Pele, Goddess of Fire. It is the only volcano here that has never gone dormant. I still get excited over the little differences of the island, like soil the color of asphalt made of the lava rock that built these islands up layer by layer out of the ocean.

I look forward each day to the end of work, to leaving the hurry of town for the thirty-mile drive home. About ten miles up the mountain, the traffic disappears, and the fast food restaurants no longer line the road. As the climb grows steeper, the road is swallowed up into the huge palms that reach their leafy, arms over the street. There’s this invisible wall I hit half way home where the temperature drops away at last. The majority of my days at the University of Hilo are sticky and thick, but up in the rainforest, the massive plant growth provides a cool shelter that seems to hug me and welcome me into its mist.

The main road begins to switch and turn not far from my house, as the air continues to grow thinner. I leave my windows down so I can feel the exact moment when I pass through the wall. After my first few weeks here, I noticed the bird songs also change at this point. Where I hear the whistles of cardinals, pekin robins, and chats in town, all species who should not live here, now I only hear the steady twitter of the Puiohi, the Akepa, and the I’iwi. I believe, like me, they have come to this volcano to escape. It is nice to know that others understand the strange reclusive quality that draws me here.

Weather

I wrap myself in layers, long-johns, sweats, a jacket over the top, and lots and lots of blankets. This is the only way to get a decent night’s sleep on Kilauea. No one believes me. This is Hawai'i after all, the land of sunshine and hula dancers. I keep extra jackets and blankets for my friends and family who come to visit. It no longer surprises me when they show up with only summer clothes in their bags. I love to watch their faces when they see their first vog up here. Even though I tell them all about this strange mix of fog and volcano sulphur, they have to be surrounded by its thickness at least once to believe. I love to take them outside when it comes rolling through the trees and stand them in the yard just two paces from me. That look of awe that crosses their faces just before I disappear is priceless.

My House

I am smurfette and I am not ashamed to say it. My little hut in the woods is adorable. Some crazy human painted it smurf blue, and I knew the moment I saw it I had to live here. The high vaulted ceilings, exposed beams, large open rooms, huge windows with views of the forest on all four sides, must have been built with me in mind. It's paradise. I tell myself if Pele decides to send a lava flow my way, I will be ready to move on, but the truth is my heart will be buried too. I believe that Pele does not care for the attachment to material possessions, so I try very hard to live simply as an honor to her. The only attachment I cannot seem to set aside is the one for this ridiculous, little house.

The guy who lived here before me planted tons of ginger and bamboo in the yard, and I have spent countless hours digging them up by the roots. The mongooses happen to love bamboo. The nasty little bastards climb the stalks and sneak into the surrounding bushes to eat the birds and their eggs. I set traps to get rid of both the black rats and the mongooses. I used to hate to kill them, but once you understand the destruction they cause, you begin to see them as the enemy.

At times, I feel surrounded by stupid people, from the ones who plant the invasive ornamental crap in their yards, to the ones who let pet parrots from Asia go free, to Captain Cooke who brought the black rats to plague us. Perhaps the fathers of them all are the ones who introduced the mongoose to eat the rats. How do you tell the Mongoose, “Rat’s only, please.”

A Person

Mark Anderson is the strangest man I know. He is my neighbor although, thankfully, it is about a twenty-minute hike from his driveway to mine. I met him for the first time in my backyard while I was checking my traps. He scared the breath out of me when he stepped out of the forest in his camouflage getup, holding a machete in one hand and had a rifle strapped over his other shoulder. Times like this remind me how alone I am up here. Mark is not quite as scary as he first appeared. He is employed by the Hawai'i Volcano National Park that borders our properties. His job is to hunt and kill the pigs and cattle roaming free around the island, another of the wonders introduced here by the fabulous Captain Cooke. Both species have lived here at the expense of a great deal of forest. The soil layer on the islands is thin and delicate and cannot handle their trampling hooves. It makes tracking them fairly easy. You just follow the trails of total annihilation and eventually you catch up with the culprit. So Mark trudges out into the forest day after day and gets paid to do what he loves best. It's not that I mind the hunt when it’s necessary, but I am not sure I am comfortable with a neighbor who gets off on bloodshed. He has started to walk this way regularly now, and all he talks about is the kill. His beady eyes glow when he tells his stories, and it makes me squirm. I’ve started hiding in the house when I am lucky enough to hear the rustling in the woods that signals his coming.

Wal-Mart

I drive by a huge, ugly, gray and blue monstrosity every day. Tourists come from that store every day with their bag of souvenirs bought at the specialty shop in the front section where the mainland stores usually house their barbers. Who wants to buy something hand- crafted by a native when they can have a plastic hula doll for their dash made in China at half the price. I make a point of buying my groceries from the local farmer's market, paying about double the price, and I smile while I pay it.

The Church

Sometimes, I drive over to Kalapana. It was a small village in the area now called "the wild west," because it’s been covered with lava so many times that only the crazy or very brave, depending on your point of view, rebuild there. The only thing left of the quaint village that used to sit on a lush beach facing the ocean is the steeple of the town's Catholic church. It juts up out of a vast wasteland that is now the 1990 lava field. I park my car and hike a half -mile over the cracked and ragged rocks to sit by the charred steeple and watch the waves crash over the cliff not far in the distance. I find peace and balance here by this ruined church. It reminds me to be thankful for what I have each day.

The People

There is one little, old, native man I chat with on my walk to and from the Kalapana church. He wouldn't agree to a picture because the camera might steal his soul. His house is the only one in the town that survived. The lava rocks covered every living thing within ten feet on all sides of his cabin. He still lives without the amenities of electricity and running water, but he’s determined to stay. He says Pele spared his house for a reason, and he’d be turning his back on her if he left. The greenery is just beginning to poke up through the jumble of black rocks around him, and soon he will be surrounded in lushness once again. For now, he seems content to sit in his rocker on the front porch and enjoy his ocean view. He says he feels privileged to be so favored by the Goddess of Fire.

Bad luck will follow those who remove a lava rock from the islands. To take one home as a souvenir has been the downfall of hundreds of unsuspecting tourists. There used to be letters lining the hallway walls of the Hawai'i Volcano House inside the Volcano National Park. Each one telling a tale of hardships from treachery and deceit to pain and death that were deemed a result of the lava rock someone took home as a keepsake. Most send the rock back with the letter in an attempt to appease Pele. Many were warned by a native during their visit and mistakenly chose to disregard them. You learn not to underestimate the power of an angry Goddess in this place. Like so many others, I’ve taken many of the rituals of the natives to heart. Shoes are not allowed inside the front door of my house to insure the lava remains outdoors where it belongs. I leave offerings of coral and small tokens to the Goddess, things I find on the beach, and place them on the alter near my front door. I hang wind chimes to comfort Pele near the porch. Most of all, I thank her regularly for the blessings she bestows on me.

Politics

Driving home from a day at Puna lu'u, the black sand beach that lies over the opposite side of the volcano where I basked on the beach with hundreds of green sea turtles (Perhaps I was a sea turtle in a former life), I noticed a couple of guys up ahead on the side of the road. They were sitting in lawn chairs in the backs of their two trucks and holding cardboard signs while chatting amiably. My knee-jerk response was to begin rolling up my window to avoid the pleading looks of the drunks who say "will work for money". Then I remembered where I was. It occurred to me at that moment that I rarely see anyone begging on a street corner here. Then, I began to wonder what these two men were doing. One man was holding a sign that said Vote Democrat for Governor and the other said the same for the other party. It made me laugh and I honked my horn and waved as I passed, getting a heart-felt wave and smile from each in return. As I continued home, I realized I didn't even know who was running. Strangely, I hadn’t heard any of the back stabbing, lying, propaganda on the television, perhaps because I so rarely even turned it on. When I got home, I Googled the Governors race, and was happily surprised to find that Hawai'i was going to be the first state to have two women running for office.

Vital Data

There is one post office, one gas station, one Hotel (the Volcano House) inside the National Park, two small groceries, one inside and one outside the park, and three restaurants, a sandwich place, a sushi place, and an Indian place with the best Chicken Masala I have ever had. There is a quilting shop, an art museum, and a sizemic research center within a mile of each other, as well as a bird conservation center right across the street from a little winery that serves the sweetest wine I have ever tasted. There are two main roads and about five dirt roads that get you where you need to go. The population is 300 full-time residents and another 200 part-time employees to the Volcano National Park. There is one heliport run by Blue Hawaii Tourist Center that takes helicopter rides over the Pu'u O'o vent that still spews fire down the mountain side. The volcano adds about two thousand new acres onto the island every year. Last night, the island lost 500 acres when a lava shelf split off and crashed into the ocean. A tourist name James Cartwright, ignoring the warning signs and barricades, was allegedly hiking on the shelf when it fell into the sea.

Dog Friendly

2009-05-26T20:50:00.000-07:00

My fabulous weekend at the Biltmore in Asheville, North Carolina proved that I really can find a "dog friendly" town. Three of my dearest friends and I spent four days charmed by this smokey mountain city. As one might suspect, friends of mine are usually animal lovers, and we were all particularly excited to see the number of dog lovers milling about everywhere we looked. Even on the Biltmore Estate grounds people were walking all variety of dogs through the gardens to enjoy the festival of flowers.

Apparently, one living in the area can purchase an annual pass for only slightly more than the day pass most visitors buy. Any and every pass holder is free to walk their dogs about on a leash, although I doubt they are allowed in the estate house itself. For the really adventurous annual pass holders, one can even bring their horse in to ride the trails. I live too many hours away to take advantage of this, but I would certainly be a regular dog walker there if I could.

The Biltmore isn't the only dog friendly establishment in town. Dogs were abundant everywhere, and many of the area hotels, even the nicer ones, advertised allowing pets. In the downtown area, people were out walking dogs all around the city. Dogs were in the stores shopping or hanging out with their companion shop keepers. They were in the cafe outdoor areas enjoying tea and crumpets. One was even sunning himself in a local shop window display. Nowhere did I see a muzzle, nor did I find people cringing when a Rottweiler or a German Shepherd walked by. There was none of the seeming reticence about certain breeds, and one's best friend seems free to accompany them out most everywhere for an afternoon on the town. It was everything I expected from my visit to Paris, but didn't get.

I have said for many years, particularly in times when politics in this country were not going my way (like the dark days we have recently, and finally, moved beyond), that some day I was going to move to Paris. Last May, not having been to that city, I decided it was time to be prepared for the worst the following November. Plus, I wanted to be sure Paris lived up to my romantic ideal. Well, let me tell you, it's a lovely city, and contrary to their undeserved reputation in our country, the people were also lovely. At first, I was sure it was the city for me. The art, the architecture, the night life, the culture, all things were fabulous, and I was so ready to pack my bags until...I saw a man walking a very timid Rottweiler with a muzzle. The dog was panting and seemed uncomfortable in the humidity, and I couldn't understand why this sweet thing needed to be subjected to a caged mouth. My friend Leon explained in his very French accent, not knowing the can of worms he was about to open, that "Rottweilers are dangerous, and it is law that they must be muzzled if they are taken out in the public." I'm sure his ears rang for several hours after. He knows me well, and still speaks to me regardless of my response that day.

Rottweilers, yes, have the potential to be dangerous. So too does every single dog breed of every single size and shape. And, if one wants to talk about the danger factor, I will take a dog of any size over a cat any day of the week. I've said it before, folks, and I'll say it again, animals of every kind have individuality, for which I have coined the term "animality". Just like humans, each individual has the potential to be dangerous. Often, in the case of animals, it is the humans and their abuse or neglect that create the danger.

My first Rottweiler, Isabeau, was heavily abused by a drunk man for the first six weeks of her life. This was before I rescued her. She was horribly afraid of strange men, particularly if they were in their cups. A professional dog trainer and friend taught me to work with her so she would not snap, snarl, or growl at every man she met. Through positive reinforcement training, she became able to socialize in public, although being a smart dog owner, I was always mindful to keep her under control and away from parties and drinking. She was not, however, a fear biter as one would suspect, and she never needed to be muzzled, not even with her male vet during painful procedures due to cancer.

My current Rottweiler, Mercy, will help you carry out the television if only you offer her a cookie. Good thing I don't publish my address here, I guess. Be warned, however, that my dingo dog (below), a little thirty pound mutt, will be glad to chew off your right leg and your face and feed them to you, should you care to try it. My mother's Shih Tzu will be there to help clean off your bones, as well. He does a mean imitation of a dobie.

If I had to choose which dog to muzzle in public, it certainly would not be my sweet Mercy. Yet, when people see us out, they make a beeline for the cute little dogs and cringe away from the loving bigger one. For me, this isn't any different than any other form of prejudice. You cannot, and should never judge others, be it by race or species, simply by their outer appearances. In the case of animals, I suggest you might want to take another look here at my previous blog, The Danger Disconnect. A chimp looks mighty cute and cuddly, particularly when it grins at you, but you are a foolish person to approach one, especially if it's smiling.

Having the good fortune to have worked as a veterinary technician back in my younger days, before one had to be certified to do so, my co-workers and I quickly learned which animals were most likely to bite when handled. The worst of all were not even dogs or cats, but our clients feathered friends, particularly the parrots. I've seen them flay the skin open to the bone. This particular gentleman carried his macaw around an Asheville music festival all day, where perfect strangers were perfectly willing to hand it food. If you ask me, they are lucky they walked away with their fingers. If I were one to judge simply on a breed, I might be willing to suggest a muzzle for all Macaws.

But, let's keep it among the dogs for a moment. My fellow vet techs were known to come near blows over whose turn it was to handle to next Chihuahua that came into our clinic. We were perfectly happy to help restrain the larger breeds of dogs. After more than twenty years of zoo, vet medicine, pet sitting, and animal rescue work, I have only ever been bitten by numerous species of birds, several nasty little Chihuahuas, and a half drugged out Cocker Spaniel, who woke up during surgery. So, where does one get off saying that a certain breed is more dangerous and needs to be muzzled?

Enough has been said about a certain sports jerk who got caught dog fighting. Since any press is supposed to be good press, I will not even use that _____'s name(insert really nasty word of your choice here). Yet, most of his confiscated Pit Bulls have been rehabilitated, even after all of the horrible abuse they lived through at the dog fights. We watched the documentaries on television and saw them being trained to get over their fears. Most have been placed in loving homes, some even with children and other pets. Unfortunately, many of those families will certainly now have trouble renting a new home or finding insurance to cover them simply because they chose to do a good deed and give a home to an abused dog.

It is not now, nor will it ever be, simply a matter of the breed or the size of the animal that makes it dangerous. Every animal has this potential. A mouse can deliver death in one bite because of its ability to transmit disease. Perhaps we should make a law that all mice must be muzzled in the city, and if one chooses to keep these dangerous creatures as pets, one should certainly NOT be allowed to rent a home nor purchase insurance!
I hope this never happens again, but, if I ever find myself disgusted with my country in the future, I will not be moving to Paris, nor, I am sad to say, anywhere in France for that matter, unless they rethink some animal laws. Instead, I'll be looking for a place more like Asheville, where I can take Mercy and Cinco for a stroll on the town without muzzles, where we can enjoy a latte at the corner and shop together to our heart's desires. No city will be perfect, but this should be close enough for us.

All pictures provided by Amanda C. Sandos.

Lynchburg Pet Store Thinks Green

2009-05-11T21:55:00.000-07:00

Diana Hobson is setting a green example for area business owners and customers alike. The owner of Pet Craze at Western Ways has chosen to think green in her new business endeavor on a number of levels including her buying practices, not only in the sale of environmentally friendly products, but also in the promotion of purchasing American and locally made products. She is also thinking green in her daily conservation practices like recycling, and through her advocacy of animal rescue over the sale of animals. Hobson is also the owner of the well-known Western Ways, which has been in business for thirty-five years, and remains the only specialized horse and tack store in the area.

When Western Ways began to bulge at the framing, and since Hobson didn’t own the building in order to enlarge it, she was forced to relocate it to a bigger red barn built around the corner. Rather than abandoning the original location, which in this economy might have left the empty building to sit for an unknown period of time, she opted to follow her interest in the proper care and nutrition of dogs. So, she created Pet Craze at Western Ways, a new specialty pet store and do-it-yourself dog wash in the old Western Ways barn. One might think all of this does not sound very green, but just wait until you dig beneath the surface.

With the help of a couple of long-time friends, Kathy Malloy and Lisa Boedaphur, the store underwent a few very small renovations, some even built with the help of friends and family. These included the addition of three stainless steel washing stations with easy access doors and ramps and three grooming stations with easy access steps. Pet Craze at Western Ways was open for business after only a few short months.

But, what is really great is all the ways Hobson has been thinking green in this new endeavor. For instance, she opted to install a tankless water heater with temperature regulators to conserve water and energy use in the tubs. She also installed lower energy blow driers for the dogs. Plus, the store provides micro-fiber super absorbent towels to cut blow drier time and natural shampoos that are environmentally safe. And, if you’re worried about all that laundry, not only do the micro-fiber towels cut the overall volume of laundry, but the store uses a load-sensitive, energy efficient washer and drier, as well.

Owners who take their pets to the groomers or even those who wash them at home in a traditional tub can now do so affordably with much less stress on the back. Plus, they can do so knowing they are not just saving money but helping to conserve water and energy in the process. Hobson will also be the first to tell her customers that dogs don’t need to be bathed too often. For a healthy coat and skin, they need their body oils and over washing only serves to dry their skin and waste time and valuable resources. Washing the dog once every few months is usually more than sufficient.

In addition to her new green dog wash, Hobson is taking proper dog and cat nutrition very seriously. In preparation for opening the new store, she attended conferences and took animal nutrition classes in order to make informed choices on what lines of high quality foods she should promote in her store. After careful deliberation, she has chosen some well-known and highly recommended brands like Wellness, Canidae, and Innova, along with some newer brands like the holistic line called Halo and the brand my own dog is raving about called Into the Wild. She offers some grain-free varieties for food allergy animals along with other organic foods and snacks for dogs and cats, as well. She even plans to keep one or two lines of fresh food in the store as soon as she has chosen the best products and the energy efficient freezer she’ll need to store them in. When it comes to nutrition, Hobson is making sure her store is stocked with the best brands America has to offer and employing a staff, including people like myself with over twenty years of animal care experience, that is knowledgeable and ready to assist the customers.

One of the things which impressed me the most about Hobson, and the biggest reason I accepted her offer to help out with this new project, is her insistence on promoting the best animal care practices. Rather than making a killing (often in more ways than one) selling animals like so many other pet stores, she will instead be promoting local animal rescue organizations. She has designated a blackboard area in the store for these organizations to advertise the animals they are currently trying to place, and Hobson plans to allow them to schedule weekend fundraisers and rescue fairs at the store. A donation box for the Humane Society was already in place for last Friday’s soft opening. Every person who asks about purchasing animals will be encouraged to consider rescuing a pet instead.

Even better for this former zookeeper, Hobson is not fond of the idea of promoting caged animals, and although she wouldn’t dream of begrudging others their own pet choices, she has made the personal choice to specialize only in the sale of items for dogs and cats, along with and a few things for the wild backyard variety of bird and affordable animal related gifts for the humans in the household.

Another thing that impressed me is her reluctance to purchase too many needless items for the store. Rather than making sure every shelf is bulging with all kinds of low quality junk from unknown locations around the world, Hobson has tried to buy mostly useful items made in the United States. Not only is she buying as many American Made products as she can, she will also be providing products made by several local artists and small businesses. In addition, she has no problems leaving a few shelves empty for the time being until she is sure she has purchased quality items that her customers will really use.

Indeed, there will be some items of the frivolous nature for the pampered pet and their owners, but I am confident Hobson will refrain from overindulging in this kind of thing. Since my first day working with her when she spent hours looking for and finally choosing the best, most affordable, and environmentally safe shampoo products she could find, I quickly realized that wasteful living and buying practices just don’t seem to be in her make-up.

Having grown up on a farm, Hobson is a lover of nature and no stranger to green living practices. She claims her long-time staff at Western Ways has grown weary of her nagging when it comes to things like recycling and reducing the amount of paper they use. Because Lynchburg does not yet offer recycling pick-up services, she can often be seen loading her own van with cardboard, paper, and plastic items to take to the nearest recycling center. Everyone in her employ is expected to help keep paper use to a minimum and to look for ways they too can help reduce, reuse, and recycle. It is not uncommon to find items made from recycled materials in the store, and she has even made sure to purchase and promote the use of pooper scoopers and biodegradable bags for disposing of the unwanted doggy trash.

So if you are a lover of dogs and cats, particularly if you are interested in green living, when your out running your errands come on by the new store in the little red barn on Route 221 in Lynchburg across from the Graves Mill Shopping Center. Feel free to bring your dog on a leash ( house rules) to check out the store and the baths in the new Pet Craze at Western Ways. Feel free to offer suggestions to the friendly staff about any items you would like to see on the shelves, particularly if they are of a green nature.

No dogs or squirrels were harmed in the making of these photos.

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T08:23:00.001-07:00

Believe me, I know how lucky I am. My mother and I are best friends. We always have been. I gave her a card this year that says "We are the best mother daughter duo in the world," and I think this really may be true. She always believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself. She is always there for me, too. Even though we live together again, we still enjoy each others company. We look forward to doing things together and rarely feel the need to avoid each other. For this, I am grateful every day. For all of you this mother's day, I wish for you a mother as fabulous as mine. May you also remember that you are lucky to have her. If you've lost her already,may the memories of all you shared be with you today and always and may they bring a smile and peace to your lives.

Today I took my mother to her favorite place, the Peaks of Otter Lodge for Mother's Day brunch. This is the view from our table.

She is always at work in her gardens. The same gardens that have been tended by generations of women in my family. For her and her love of flowers, I am posting some more pictures I have taken over the years in her garden. I hope you enjoy them.

Have a beautiful Mothers Day.

Earth Art by Amanda

2009-05-02T16:10:00.000-07:00

Although I have shared photos, I have been remiss in sharing my paintings with you here at the old blog. Apart from the painting at the top of the page, I don't think I have posted any, so I'm going to sprinkle them into this post while I tell you about my latest adventures. The past few weeks have been crazy, now that I have actual paid writing assignments with the expected and dreaded deadlines, plus I continue to run a small pet sitting service, plus I took on a new part-time job helping someone else open a specialty pet shop in town (more on that once we are open for business). On top of all this, I am finally in the process of completing my application to graduate school.

The Zinnia Patch, 2008

College was wasted on me when I was young. I could not wait to get out into the real world, so I gave up a free ride to finish my BS at the age of twenty and took a zoo job in Dallas as quickly as I could. Now after years in the real world, I find I might want to stay in school for the remainder of my adult life. But seriously, I always regretted the decision to quit after only getting my associates, and so several years ago I made the difficult decision to leave my long-term zoo career and return to school. I completed my B.A. in 2008 in the midst of a huge controversy because the woman's college I chose to attend opted to go co-ed and did so with little grace and horrible communications with their student body, faculty, and staff. I ended up smack in the middle of sit-ins and demonstrations and everything college in the sixties seemed to be. Needless to say, I needed a break once I got the heck out of there, so I took a year off. But,the goal has always been to go all the way. I always wanted to be a doctor of something, although never one of the medical variety.

Emerald Boa, 2007

The biggest problem I ran across during my years as an undergraduate was this notion that we should choose one thing to specialize in, choose a major that would become our area of expertise. I've always been an eclectic sort with passions in a number of areas which generally all relate back either to the environment or to the arts or both. But, choosing one of these things over the others seemed impossible as each one compliments the other in the fragrant soup dish that is my life. I got around the notion of choosing a major by doubling up my work load and majoring both in English creative writing and studio art. My final senior project with both departments combined my love of writing, painting, photography, and the environment. My professors passed me, but I'm not sure they really believed I would continue to pursue all of these passions into my professional life. They often encouraged me to pay closer attention to one interest and decide how to pursue this one interest in my graduate work. The very idea made me crabby.

Crabbing, 2007

As usual, I rebelled against the voices of authority. In today's global and rapidly changing world, it seems people are not as interested in things that conform to strict guidelines of genre. Most consumers today are used to multi-tasking in multi-media, and they seem more interested in rapidly changing things that stimulate all their senses, hence the popularity of the computer, where blogging, gaming, and social media continue to grow. Already, with very little experience as a writer or an artist, I have been selling articles to magazines along with my own photography, and even one of the literary journals that will soon publish my poetry will also publish one of my photos to go along with one of the poems. Editors seem increasingly excited by someone who can produce both written and visual work. So, it seems to me that my graduate work should still incorporate both the visual arts and the written word. I want to continue to search out new combined ways to show the concept of deep ecology, the interconnectedness and equal importance of all things on our planet, through my work.

Mercy, 2007

After researching programs all over the country, I was starting to think there was no hope for these eclectic dreams. I thought I might have to conform to the academic world's old school methods, and I was not happy about it. Then, a friend pointed out Goddard College. This low residency graduate program offers an MFA in interdisciplinary arts and/or an MA with an independant study which can include a concentration in environmental studies. It's like they came up with this whole school just for me. So, I am once again wading in the waters of the paperwork swamp, while I also gear up to swim the crashing waves of financial aide tsunamis. Cross your fingers that I make it out alive. When and if my acceptance letter arrives, I'll surely be crowing about it.

As the Crow Cries, 2008

One more quick thing before I go. For those who were interested in the results of Disney's tree planting initiative which coincided with the opening of the movie Earth, go here to read the press release.

My Humble Earth Review

2009-04-26T18:09:00.000-07:00

After all the hype and all of you putting up with me talking incessantly about this movie, I finally found the time to go see the Disneynature film Earth yesterday. My Earth Day had been previously booked with drumming performances and tickets to see John Waters speak at Sweetbriar College (Hence the photo from a truly fabulous night that I would not trade for anything). Initially, I told myself it would be better to wait until the crowds died down at the movie theater anyway. Then, I was handed the amazing opportunity to interview the movie's two directors, as anyone who has ever met me now knows (the interview reprise is in the last post). Plus, I was glued to the television for the entire series Planet Earth when it played on the Discovery Channel, and I loved every moment of it. Since the series ended, I have watched or read every scrap I could find on the making of it. Needless to say, I hated waiting so long to see this film, and I was really excited about finally getting to the theater last night. Did it live up to the hype? I am happy to report that it did.

Although some of the footage was seen in the television series, much of it was not. Some of the most famous footage of the series, like the Great White Shark attack, is shown again but also supplamented with new angles and additional footage. Even so, seeing it on television cannot compare to a big screen. Fothergill was not exaggerating when he said nature documentaries have needed the benefit of a theater setting. I found the big screen coming really close to the feeling I get when seeing natural phenomena live. I really felt some of the thrill of standing in the face of nature's awesome power. After many adventures into the wild to view things like the the monarch sanctuaries, where the world is literally blanketed in butterflies, or a volcano spewing it's lava into the ocean, or some of the worlds most spectacular waterfalls, having hiked out to see these spectacles live, I was really stoked to find myself getting that same heart pounding, thunder-struck experience from watching filmed footage on a movie screen.

Even better, some of the spectacles shown in Earth are filmed in places many of us will never be able to travel, nor would we even if we could, so I feel like the makers of this film have offered a great gift. In addition, they offer the idea that even though the planet is in great peril, there are still plenty of wonders out there to protect and save. All is not lost. Some might call it conservation light, but I have to agree with Fothergill when he said there have been enough fear driven, negative documentaries. The positive spin of Earth is refreshing. It makes it's point about earth's troubles, sure, but it also leaves the viewer feeling hopeful. Upon leaving the theater, I felt refreshed and ready to continue fighting to save what's left of our planet rather than feeling frustrated and angry and ready to chuck it in.

My only complaint is the sometimes anthropomorphic dialogue given by the narrator. For the most part it is okay, but in places the sap begins to rise. What do I expect? After all, this is Disney. Perhaps they could have laid off some of that cheesy stuff, but the kids probably love it. James Earl Jones delivers the narration beautifully, and the cheese factor is kept to a minimum, so it was not enough to turn me off entirely. I hate nothing more than a so-called "documentary" with a bunch of lovey dovey cooing and cawing. It's almost as bad as what Fothergill calls "crocodile strangling films," all teeth and blood and guts. For the most part, Earth stays between these two extremes, only slipping to the sappy side in a few places and never once straying too far towards the blood and guts.

Without giving too much of the film away, I thought some of the best scenes were the time lapse photography sequences where the changing seasons are shown over entire areas in a matter of minutes. It is truly breath taking. I highly recommend taking the time to see this film on the big screen. You will follow three amazing animal migrations, a polar bear and her cubs as they hike from den to sea, two humpback whales on their swim from the tropics to the South Pole, and an Elephant family as they migrate across a desert in search of water. In between, you will witness many amazing animals and natural wonders from around the globe. Take the whole family, and enjoy nature documentary film-making at it's finest. Make sure you stay through the credits to see some of the filming process and learn about the unexpected fun of working around wild animals. You never know what a hungry polar bear might do next.

Happy Earth Day 2009!

2009-04-22T05:23:00.000-07:00

Because Disneynature has offered to plant a tree for every person who sees the movie Earth, which opens today in celebration of Earth Day, I have opted to post my interview (courtesy of Got2BeGreen) with the movie's directors. I apologize to all of you who have already read it and offer you a gentle reminder to make time to see the movie. I also ask that you take a few moments out of your day to reflect on and look for one thing you can do to be kinder to the earth this coming year. It can be something simple and affordable. Every little thing helps. I plan to convert to the use of reusable shopping bags. I'll stock my car trunk with a stack of them, since I am always forgetting them and end up asking for paper bags at the grocery store. Anyway, please enjoy the article from Got2BeGreen, and feel free to search me on their site for green events and news every week.

Taking Planet Earth to the Next Level

This Earth Day, Disney will launch its new film label,Disneynature, with the movie Earth, Disneynature, with the movie Earth, a film shot in conjunction with the ground breaking television series Planet Earth. Directors Alastair Fothergill and Mark Linfield, both winners of multiple awards, graciously chatted with us about making the movie, their hopes for raising conservation awareness, and the environmental impact of filming.

Fans of the BBC and Discovery Channel series Planet Earth will not want to miss this movie. Filmed in remote locations around the world from the Okavango Delta in Botswana to the Svalbard archipelago between Greenland and Norway, viewers can expect to see the wonder of nature as they have never experienced it before. In addition, for every ticket sold in the opening week of the film, Disney will plant a tree in the endangered rainforests of Brazil.

Fothergill says that the big screen is really the best place for natural history documentaries because it can help transport people and truly give them a sense of what it’s like to be in the environments filmed. Both directors are very excited about Disneynature’s promise to produce at least one major nature documentary each year. The directors of Earth have already been contracted for the next two releases. This gives them both an ongoing larger scale forum to produce quality films that raise awareness about the environment. According to Linfield, Earth is intended to be “a celebration of our planet,” one he hopes will empower people to preserve it.

Although Linfield says it was necessary to film the movie and the television series in conjunction “because of the logistics of what we were trying to achieve,” the film does offer new, never before seen footage. Fothergill says they kept both projects in mind during the filming and slated “key scenes” to be “unique to the movie.” In addition, the big screen and surround sound and “eighty-five uninterrupted minutes make a great deal of difference.”

“There is a real desire for Disney to keep these films absolutely true to nature to the extent that it’s actually [written] in our contracts,” Fothergill says. Therefore, they made a conscious effort not to break what he calls “the first rule” of documentary filming, never to interfere. Although they may edit scenes, they always strive to depict the stories in nature strictly as they were observed.

Fothergill admits there seems to be a desire for “high-octane, biting, snapping, teeth type movies, [where] every animal in nature is dangerous, and you have to make sharks horrible. You have to make snakes poisonous.” He calls these “crocodile strangling movies.” But, this does not depict the true sense of things, so he’s not interested in making this kind of film.

“There are some very tough sequences in the movie, you know, and we don’t shy away from that at all. But, we have chosen not to show blood and gore because, frankly, these are family movies…once the wolf has run down and grabbed the caribou, you don’t need to dwell on it.” He takes what he calls his “privileged position” of coming into people’s homes very seriously. Regardless of the pressures in today’s market to produce exciting fear monger drama, he chooses to show the true stories of nature without the use of this kind of sensationalism.

Linfield follows this up by adding, “We made a very conscious effort to not make a finger wagging, heavy handed, environmental movie.” He feels there are enough of these kinds of films already. He says, “This can be a little bit paralyzing, and it reaches a point where you actually feel that people have an excuse just to hold up their hands and give up. It’s the, “Oh, well, it’s too late already” factor. “Let’s not bother. Let’s just get that new SUV.” Instead, he and Fothergill have chosen to go for an “emergent effect of seeing all that wonder, all that fantastic diversity, all those fabulous things so that people will realize what’s at stake.” They want people to see there is still plenty left out there to preserve and protect.

Most who have seen the series Planet Earth would agree with both directors that this approach indeed made quite an effective conservation piece without the need for heavy handed messages. The series focused on showing the planet as a whole, and by doing so, it also showed the issues which have negatively impacted the planet’s health. The movie Earth promises to take this same innovative approach to the next level by showing our planet on the big screen, bringing nature’s stories to the diverse and potentially enormous audiences generated by Disney.

Of course, the filming of these documentaries carried a heavy carbon footprint. Although they did not calculate the exact amount, both Fothergill and Linfield freely admit that they would not have been able to film in these remote locations nor show the incredible aerial photography of the wildlife “crucial to the movie” without the use of helicopters and airplanes.

Fothergill points out, “You can’t normally follow a polar bear out into the open ocean. You obviously can’t walk on the ice because it’s melted, and you can’t get close on a boat really without disturbing them.” In addition, with the use of a new special stabilized camera system mounted to the helicopters, they are able to zoom in incredibly close and then pull back and pull back until you see the polar bear as a tiny white dot in a huge expanse of ocean. These types of scenes really give the viewer a sense of the wonder of our planet as a whole and push them towards a more ecological mind set where every tiny speck of life on the vast expanse of earth has an equal stake in its health for their survival.

In order to offset their heavy carbon footprint and give something back to the planet, the directors of Earth and Disneynature have taken some important steps. First and foremost, Fothergill says that on future projects they will be calculating their carbon footprint. Regardless of the oversight on this project, he says “As a team, we were very conscious of wastage and, wherever possible, tried to minimize those things.” For example, “we travel very, very light [in small crews], and do simple things such as watching paper wastage and being very careful that we leave things exactly as we found them.”

Fothergill adds, “We’re delighted by the fact that Disney has an initiative around the release of this movie that in the first week, for every person who buys a ticket, they’re going to plant a tree in the North Atlantic Rainforest in Brazil,” a highly threatened rainforest area. The initiative also includes looking after those planted trees in the long- term.

In addition, the Disneynature website will be providing links to many of the conservation and science organizations that helped them during filming. Organizations like Elephants Without Borders, who Linfield says “helped us with the filming of the Okavanga Delta elephant story.” Upon browsing the site, you can also find links to suggested teaching tools and classroom activities which will help educators teach their students about the important environmental and scientific concepts shown in the film.

Earth allows viewers to experience the wonder of the changing of the seasons, the magic in a transformation from the dry season to the wet season, and the majesty of wildlife across our planet, from polar bears on ice flows near the North Pole to Birds of Paradise on the rainforest floors of New Guinea. One can admire predator/prey relationships like that of the Cheetah and the gazelle for what it is, a part of the circle of life that is necessary for survival. One can admire the natural world for its beauty and power, from each unique individual to their intrinsic part in the make-up of the whole of this planet.

Be sure to see Earth during its opening week in a theater near you starting April 22nd. By doing so, you can help the planet by helping to plant a tree in the rainforest. For more information, visit Disneynature. Please remember, it takes the viewers and consumers of earth to keep the issues of conservation and the need for preserving our natural world in the forefront of public awareness. Please continue to support organizations that are working to raise awareness, and help to keep those organizations on track to ensure they are truly continuing to work for the good of our planet, for this is a job that belongs to us all.

Special thanks to Meg Roberts of New Media Strategies for making this interview possible.

Production image appear courtesy of Disneynature.

Poem for the Polar Bears

2009-04-14T17:17:00.000-07:00

Well, after receiving the fabulous news that my poetry, including the Nene Poem, and one of my earlier essays called "Animality" from this blog are getting published in The Canary, a literary journal by Hip Pocket Press, I am finally feeling like my new career as an environmental artist is taking off. Strange how this milestone seems to make such a difference, after already publishing articles in journals and magazines.

Shameless Plug - Read my interview with the award winning directors of the upcoming Disney movie Earth at Got2BeGreen to find out how you can help the rainforest in Brazil.

Anyway, I love writing the environmental, journalistic style articles, but the creative works like my poems and essays are somehow different, somehow deeper. They take more of me and give more back, I guess. They are, after all, often the culmination of years of work and numerous drafts. Most have changed drastically from their youths into these adult versions, and finally seem old enough to leave home, to make their way out into the world. This must be what it feels like to send your child off to college.

I've been reluctant to share the poetry, feeling like an exposed nerve ending every time I put one out there in the world where I can no longer keep it safe. But, I guess it's time, and so in light of the situation the polar bears find themselves facing these days, I thought I would share my favorite of my most recent poetry series with you.

Polar Bear, (Ursus maritimus)

Transparent hairs soak ultra violet
rays through hallow shafts, transferring
heat into a black hide for her insulation
against the frozen mass she floats on.
Trapped by melting tundra, she lies
conserving energy, growing thin, adrift
on this burg on the midnight sea, no prey
to hunt, no seals who once denned
under the ice.

Deep groans belch up from the belly
of the ice. She wakes with a shifting
tremble, stands to peer over the ledge
at wakes rippling out from her perch.
Her white reflection blurs. Another
shudder staggers her, and boulder-size
ice breaks free to slide down the wet
mountain towards her. She leaps
over building waves, plunges
into the sea.

Swimming hard toward a shelf
once only a mile from here, sluggish
limbs fight the churning surf. The ice
burg behind her splits, half its giant mass
plummeting, raising a cresting
tidal wave that rolls towards her, over her,
pulling her under, spinning her thousand-pound
body like a drift of powdery snow. She peddles
once-powerful legs, each swipe slower,
never finding the surface she seeks
until at last she rises and floats
face down.

Spring Should Be Here!

2009-04-07T21:22:00.000-07:00

Let the Blooming Begin, 2009, Blue Ridge Parkway

In the interest of hastening along the warm weather,and since Mother Nature does not seem able to make up her mind here in the Virginia mountains this year, I thought I would share a few of my photos of spring around the world. Bring on the sun, mamma!

A Rose By Any Other Name, 2008, Loire Valley France

The Butterfly Bush, 2007, Forest, Virginia

Crabapple Blooms, 2009, Virginia

Spring in Rome, 2008, Italy

Spring in Mexico: Rooftop Garden, 2007

A Poem for the Nenes

2009-04-04T20:47:00.000-07:00

I have been remiss about posting. This is about to change. Up until now, posts have been limited to full-fledged essays, rather than any kind of regular chat or blog. This has lost its excitement for me and does not allow me the time to post with any kind of regularity. So, I figure it's time to start inserting more of me into the mix, although I plan to keep the essays coming for those who have been enjoying them. Thanks again to all who have been reading and sending me notes. It means so much to every writer, no matter how big or small, that someone is out there reading what they have to say. Anyway, it already feels like I will enjoy coming here and writing again now that I've allowed myself the freedom to be less structured, instead of imposing deadlines and making the whole thing into some kind of a job. Who wants to return to that? Life is sweeter when we can keep the feeling of work to a minimum and fan up the fun.

So in the interest of fun fanning, I have decided to share with you a little bit of my poetry today. Now, the subject matter is a bit sad, I admit, but it's poetry, the writing I do for fun. Poetry for me is that fabulous stuff I know will probably never make me the first dime, and I don't really care because I love doing it. Regardless of the tone of the work, the fun of this is in sharing it with you.

The poem I chose is a tribute to the Nene Goose, state bird of Hawaii, and one of the fabulous species I had the great honor to care for during my time at Keauhou Bird Conservation Center on the Big Island, just outside of Hawaii Volcano National Park. These highly endangered geese now make their home at the tops of the volcanos. On the Big Island they stay mostly on the open rocks and grassy fields near the national park. You've already guessed that the top of an active volcano isn't really the best place for a goose, but alas, it's the home they are stuck with and they are making a slow but steady come back. The park rangers and conservationists have had quite a time in the ongoing effort to protect them from the introduced species of the islands (humans included). Anyway, an entry in one of my guide books to the island inspired this poem...

Nene Goose (Branta sandvicensis)
Volcano National Park, Big Island, Hawaii

She builds their nest under sparse scrubs, lines bare rock
with down, guards her mate while he incubates, moos soft
warning calls. Together, they hatch three chicks; survive
mongoose, black rats, dogs, cats, tourists, scientists. Together,
they find ohelo berries or dry fruits on stiff
pukiawes, always feeding
their young first.

The guidebook says: “This endangered goose has evolved;
prefers land to water.” Such strength in this state
bird, frame stunted like a miniature Canada,
only partial webbing between short, black toes.
Today, she stands beneath her own silhouette
on the yellow sign,

here on barren lava flows, along Chain of Craters Road
under pioneers; woody shrubs that first emerge from porous,
black rocks. Here, beside rerouted drives rebuilt each time lava
seeps out of fissures, buries asphalt. Here, where rain collects
in crevices heated by liquid rock, steams to scalding clouds,
miles above the sea.

Today, she guards his silent remains, hissing
with her three chicks in the middle of the desolate
road, under the Nene Crossing sign, goose
silhouette above, “Drive Slow”
in black letters below.

The Danger Disconnect

2009-03-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

The most disturbing thing about Sandra Harold’s story is not that this seventy year-old woman recently helped kill the pet chimp she claims was “like a son to her” to stop him from attacking her friend. It’s not even that she raised Travis (her chimp) as a human, nor her criminal negligence for risking lives, nor the negligence of the officials who allowed her to slide on permits even after previous incidents. The most disturbing thing is the continued and obvious disconnect people still seem to have when it comes to understanding the dangers of chimps.

Google Travis Chimp and you will find blogs, newspaper stories, links, and discussion forums about a woman who is disfigured, a chimp that is dead, a family facing criminal charges, and the government meetings to discuss permit regulations. Even after recent events in California when a man lost his testicles to another chimp, the majority of the reporters, writers, and comment threads continue to amaze me with one joke after another. I realize people often find tasteless humor in the face of tragedy, but if you add chimps to the mix, it seems they loose all perspective. Suddenly, all tact and common sense go out the window in favor of another one-liner.

When a tiger attacks and kills someone the response is entirely different. Case in point, read about the sling shot incident at the San Francisco Zoo. Enter an area where an escaped tiger is on the loose and most people will mess themselves. After it’s over, if they live, they’ll all be in a rage wondering who to blame. Enter an area with an angry chimp, and most people will laugh and point and make jokes. (For future reference, showing your teeth to an upset primate is a bad idea, since it’s a sign of aggression.)

The worst argument of my zoo career took place with a man during a chimp escape. An angry, scared female chimp that had already attacked one of her keepers was running loose, and this guy wanted to take his five year old kid over for a closer look. I finally dissuaded him by yelling that I might enjoy watching her rip his arms and legs from the sockets and beat him with them, but I wasn’t willing to risk his kid. He seemed shocked when he realized I was serious.

But, don’t just take it from me. Martha Hamilton has cared for over seventy chimps, ages 13 to 52, both mother raised and human raised, former laboratory, space, zoo, and entertainment chimps, from wild caught to captive born. She’s worked with them in both zoo and sanctuary settings, she's even worked with them in Africa. When I asked her about this phenomenon, she pointed out the influence of the media.

We’ve all seen the commercials, the movies, the television shows with the chimps dressed in human clothes, smiling, and shaking their heads for a laugh. Hamilton says, “The main thing people don't realize is that the chimps in the media are all babies or juveniles. Once they begin to reach adolescence, around the ages of five to seven, they become strong and unmanageable.” This is when they usually wind up in zoos, or sanctuaries, or unfortunately, as pets in someone’s home.

When asking what she thought might have triggered Travis's attack, Hamilton says, “Imagine a teenage boy, the age equivalent of Travis, and consider their typical raging hormones and uncontrollable anger. Then, you have to put that into a being that is seven times stronger than a full-grown man.” Hamilton adds, “Chimps raised by humans are confused. They don't understand that they are not human, especially the way Travis lived. They also don't understand the behavior we humans label ‘right and wrong’.” She assures me Travis was acting as a normal chimp would if feeling threatened or confused about his surroundings.

Chimps become easily agitated, particularly in their teenage years. Hamilton says, “Once a chimp loses control of his emotions, it's like a toddler. They are literally out of their minds.” They often fight amongst themselves. When this occurs, they are usually out to disable their victim in an attack, not necessarily to kill. They go for the face, eyes, ears, hands, feet, and genitals leaving the victim helpless to further defend himself. Hamilton adds, “Chimps are ruled by their emotions. Factor in their proven high intelligence, and it’s obvious that they do not make good pet material. They belong in the forest. Period!”

After speaking with Hamilton, my advice is as follows: when faced with a chimp, remember that even a juvenile is at least seven times stronger than you are. Next, think of their large, gleaming teeth and their tendency to lose their cool at the least provocation. Most of all, don’t forget that they are proven to be only slightly less intelligent than humans. Now, perhaps you will understand the potential for a seriously dangerous situation.

So, if you see someone trotting their pet chimp around in public, even if they’ve been doing this for years, perhaps it would be best to keep your distance. I suggest contacting someone at your nearest zoo or the US Departments of Agriculture to report what you have seen. Because the chimp might look funny and act cute, but it’s just as dangerous as the tiger, and the mutilation of innocent people, the unnecessary death of an innocent chimp, are not laughing matters.

A Disappearance of Wings

2009-01-14T09:10:00.000-08:00

The art of Pam Longobardi has inspired me to return to my keyboard and write about Hawaii’s endangered birds. I borrowed the title from the above installation, which combines portraits of extinct birds, antique coffin handles, and projected images of wings. Viewing it left my chest aching when I noticed that most of the portraits were native Hawaiian birds. While working on the Big Island as an intern with the Keauhou Bird Conservation Center, I learned that Hawaii is the Endangered Species Capital of the World. Why? Because, ever since the first humans set foot on the islands in approximately 400 A.D., there has been a disappearance of wings.

From the time I first flew over, I was awed by the beauty of Hawaii. I remember stepping off the plane to the exotic sounds and smells in the humid air. In particular, I was lured by the melodic songs of little yellow birds flitting near the outdoor baggage claim and the small grass huts at the Hilo airport. When I excitedly pointed them out to my friend, an avian biologist I was meeting, she told me they were introduced Japanese White-Eyes. I noticed a bright red Cardinal fly into the bushes near her car, and a Scarlet Macaw flew overhead as we drove away. While we toured the sights of Hilo, I was bursting with excitement to see native wildlife, but almost every plant or bird I pointed to was introduced. We didn’t begin to see or hear native species until we had reached her home in Volcano, at the top of Kilauea just outside Hawaii Volcano National Park. On the ride up the mountain, I was astounded to learn that seventy-five percent of Hawaii’s native birds were already extinct or endangered.

When I finally got to the native forests during my internship, I had to wonder why anyone would change such beauty. Yes, the islands are lovely in the lowlands where introduced species reign, but that beauty does not begin to compare to the lush dark greens and vibrant colors of the native forests. Much of the pristine forests are no longer open to the public, as wildlife officials from numerous organizations fight what often seems like a hopeless battle to preserve them. These lovely islands became home to animals and plants which traveled unimaginable distances across the sea to evolve into distinct species found nowhere else on earth. Yet, most of those distinct species are already gone, and those hearty enough to survive the most destructive introduced species, the human, are continuing to die.

Since the first Polynesian Settlers arrived, the birds have been disappearing. No one could blame the settlers for staying. After traveling over 2000 miles from the nearest land, they found islands with fertile soil and easy targets to hunt. These settlers brought crops like sugar cane and breadfruit and began clearing forests. The Polynesians, who celebrate their connection to nature, began to incorporate birds into their cultural traditions. Not only did they hunt them for food, but their feathers were used for decorations and clothing in religious ceremonies. By the time Captain Cook brought the first English explorers in 1778, some species were already extinct.

With the arrival of the Europeans, the islands changed more in the following years than it had in the 1300 years since the Polynesians first made land. Boat loads of settlers began to arrive. Apart from humans, two of the most destructive pests stowed away on these ships, the black rat, and the mosquito. Whole ecosystems began to disappear as land was cleared for homes and large-scale farm operations and the islands changed into what they are today.

Now, wild goats, pigs, deer, cows, and sheep trample the forests not already cleared by humans, uprooting trees and turning lush green havens into baron rocks and mud wallows. The forestry service must employ numerous people to hunt and kill these free-ranging animals. Mosquitoes spread malaria, avian pox, and avian TB to birds and humans alike. Feral animals run rampant, as people introduce more cats, dogs, and other animals onto the islands.

Of course, those trying to save the islands are not entirely blameless either. Scientists have taken numerous species from the wild for the purposes of study. One might find any number of stuffed native birds in museums around the world, caught and killed for education. Then, there are the colossal mistakes scientists made in efforts to eradicate pests. Perhaps the worst was the introduction of the Mongoose. This species was initially introduced to control the rat population, but those in charge didn’t pay attention to the fact that rats are active at night and the mongoose hunts during the day. Also, someone forgot to tell the mongoose that he should not eat birds and their eggs. Now, the mongoose is one of the worst pest species, proving good intentions are not enough.

In the face of such hopelessness, there are amazing people continuing to work towards saving the last remaining native species. Many work long hours, tirelessly attempting to clean up the mess to keep small parts of the native ecosystems intact so future generations can experience the hypnotic and distinct beauty that was Hawaii. CSI types like my friend test blood from hearty birds immune to some diseases and attempt to create more effective vaccines. Educators speak out to tourists and residents about ways to help save what little remains of the natural environments. Wildlife officials work around the clock to eradicate pests like the mongoose. Park officials pull up pest plants like the ginger, which is choking native plants, the staple foods for specialized native birds. And around the world, people like Pam Longobardi inspire and teach others about the disappearance of wings. To be equally inspired visit the Maier Museum of Art in Lynchburg, Virginia from January 20th – August 8th, 2009 or visit her website at http://www.pamlongobardi.com/ . To find out how you can help save the native species of Hawaii, visit the Hawaii Conservation Alliance at http://hawaiiconservation.org/ .

How To Be a Nuisance

2008-11-10T18:29:00.000-08:00

Last week, while driving along the Blue Ridge Parkway, a black bear crossed my path. He came lumbering up out of the ditch onto the road ahead. He was oblivious to the fact that it was peak tourist season, the weekend when everyone and their mother comes out to see the changing of the leaves. At first, I thought the youngster was a large Rottweiler. It took me a moment to compute what I was really seeing. He appeared like an apparition and came to a dead stop on the center line of the road. Our eyes met for a moment. Then as quickly as he had appeared, he scaled the sheer rock cliff in front of him and was gone.

Because of his size, I figured he was probably a yearling cub. I waited a while for Mama Bear to appear, much to the chagrin of those in the cars behind me, but she was nowhere to be seen. Although the cub was old enough to be weaned, he certainly didn’t seem ready to be on his own. So, I made my way to the nearest ranger station to report in. I was informed that the mother was indeed around and had three more cubs this year. Since this is highly unusual, I wondered why the ranger didn’t know there may be more than one mother bear in the area. Black bears wouldn’t typically birth young every year. Then, I realized he might be deliberately leaving that information out. Who could blame him? We humans can be real nuisances for bears.

First and foremost, we perpetuate the myth that all bears are vicious, frightening creatures, often depicting them standing on hind legs, teeth bared on the attack. The truth about black bears is they are only dangerous when cornered or protecting their young. We should be empathetic to this, since we too can be dangerous if put in the same situation. The best defense against a black bear is distance and noise. When I hike, I like to carry a couple of disposable pie pans or something that will make a racket when clapped together. Anything noisy, even yelling and waving your arms, will send a black bear packing most of the time. They certainly don’t warrant all the fear mongering.

Of course, one cannot forget that we have encroached on huge tracts of the black bear’s territory, cutting down forests at an alarming rate, and using new technology to build in areas previously considered uninhabitable. When we squeeze the bears from their homes each year, we should not be surprised when they start showing up in our towns and camp grounds searching for food. We made our beds, and now we have to make like Goldie Locks and lie in them. Rather than calling the bears a nuisance, making excuses to shoot them, perhaps we should learn to coexist. It’s embarrassing to know that black bears would live into their thirties in the wild, but most are shot and killed before they reach ten.

They really aren’t much different from Rottweilers, just another misunderstood animal whose unfortunate run-ins with humans give them a bad wrap. I’ll admit both species can be fairly intimidating, and some may even be aggressive if provoked, but most just want to be left alone to forage and eat all day. Both species just need people to be educated on how to interact with them safely.

Black bears certainly prefer uninhabited areas of deep forests to human's back yards, but they must roam large distances looking for food. Although, they instinctively fatten up preparing to hibernate each year, not all bears hibernate all winter. Those in Virginia may only sleep lightly for part of the season due to the mild weather. Regardless of the climate however, they will still spend the majority of their time from spring until late fall stuffing their faces with as much fat, rich carbohydrates, and proteins as they can find.

Due to the need for high calorie foods, black bears are naturally susceptible to becoming beggars, again like some Rottweilers I know. Once they get their first taste of the high sugar, high fat foods we eat, it’s hard to turn them back to the same old diet of acorns, fruits, berries, and the occasional carrion. This is why it is so important to take the “Do Not Feed the Animals” signs seriously. But, the signs don’t just mean not to reach your hand out to a wild animal and coax it to eat. It means, being responsible hikers, campers, and wildlife observers.

“Do Not Feed the Animals” also means do not leave your waste lying around. Confine your picnicking to public areas with lots of people, and clean up your mess. Wrap leftovers well, and take them home with you. Don’t leave partially eaten food items in any unlocked trash can for the next bear to forage in, and certainly don’t leave them lying on the ground for others to clean up. By all means, learn how to wrap foods properly and how to store them safely if you plan to hike and camp with them. Be particularly vigilant in the months leading up to winter.

It seems clear we already know how to be nuisances. Perhaps it’s time we clean up our act. Any forestry service personnel or park ranger worth their salt will be happy to answer questions on how to prevent run-ins with bears in your area, and how you can enjoy seeing a wild bear do what a wild bear should be doing, scaling cliffs and trees, and foraging in thickets for food. Wildlife Management personnel can also be reached to assist you with any bear problems in your area, including safe relocations. By contacting them, you can prevent bears from being shot unnecessarily. Please consider doing your part to change the way we look at these magnificent creatures, and join the many native peoples around the world who see bears as a symbol of strength and power, something to be respected and honored, not something to be conquered and feared.

The Power of Grassroots

2008-10-17T16:54:00.000-07:00

Environmental education has been my passion for many reasons, but I’ll admit I focused on animals because I’ve been cynical about humans, feeling they have few redeeming qualities any more. But, over the past few years I’ve begun to have hope in humanity again. I see the extraordinary things a small group of people can accomplish when they forget their differences and come together for the good of their community. It’s called Grassroots, and it’s sweeping the nation. Perhaps one of the best examples of a Grassroots movement started with the band Donna the Buffalo and their eclectic “Herd” of followers.

If you have not heard Donna the Buffalo’s funky mix of purely danceable music, you should go to http://www.donnathebuffalo.com/ and give them a listen. Make sure you pay attention to the lyrics along with the superb music to get a sense of the positive messages of talented songwriters Jeb Puryear and Terra Nevins. They find a way to mix deep emotional topics like social and political justice and environmental awareness with a sound and rhythm that stimulates movement and an overwhelming sense of joy in their listeners. To really understand their feel good vibe, you must experience them at a live performance, preferably bouncing up and down with the rest of the Herd near the stage. This diverse group of fans are loving people spanning all races, ages, and backgrounds, and are always ready with a smile and a hug, not only for friends, but also for every new face that taps a toe with them.

But, what can a band "on the funky side" and a motley group of hippies really do to make a difference? Well, here’s where you’d be surprised. This particular Grassroots movement started very small, with one show in Ithaca, New York to raise money for local AIDS organizations. Members of the band were excited by the success of the show and decided they wanted to continue the fundraising effort for other worthy causes. They created the Grassroots Music Festival every July in Trumansburg, New York. Eventually, the Herd grew until they added a second bi-annual festival called Shakori Hills in Silk Hope, North Carolina every April and October. Since then, they have expanded into a nationally recognized effort that also promotes other Grassroots festivals all over the country. They have raised funds for disaster relief and others in need of assistance, social justice, political activism, environmental conservation, and green living, to name a few. They have accomplished all of this while at the same time providing exposure to local, regional, national, and international cultures through music and the arts. In short, they offer a great time, a way to relax and enjoy living, while you learn and grow.

My first exposure to Donna the Buffalo was at a small club called Ziggy’s in Winston Salem. I was instantly addicted to the sound and bought every CD I could get my hand on, and I’ve attended every Shakori Hills Music Festival. My favorite aspect of Shakori Hills is, of course, their campaign for green living. They offer recycling and composting and teach attendees about proper recycling methods. They provide a bio-diesel shuttle bus to the festival from a number of local towns and cities, and promote car pooling by offering any car arriving with four or more passengers free parking. Areas of the large property have been designated “Natural Preserves” where no camping is allowed. Festival organizers regularly announce ways everyone can pitch in to help the local environment.

Rather than selling bottled water for a profit, Shakori Hills offers a large filtering truck to refill and reuse bottles for an honorary donation. Food vendors offer organic and healthy food choices and serve on recyclable materials as much as possible. It is not uncommon to hear adults remind their children to take only one napkin rather than a handful from the food stands or to see children picking up trash and recyclables around the park. The festival even provides a Sustainability Fair throughout the weekend with environmental education talks and activities, and a number of healing arts providers are on hand to teach all manner of exercise and healthy living techniques.

The latest project this wonderful group of people has started is the Solarize Shakori Hills Project, a fundraising campaign to purchase solar panels for the festival. At $10.00 per cell, they have already sold $3000 last weekend alone and by next year the festival will be a solar powered event. (For information on how you can help, email tami@blast.com )Even some of the other regular performers are promoting sustainability. Grammy Award Nominees The Duhks announced that their latest CD is packaged with recycled materials and soy based inks.

The Herd doesn’t stop their charitable giving at the festivals alone, however. They have created their own “Side to Side Charities” and have raised tens of thousands of dollars for community services to feed the hungry, house the homeless, empower women, end racism, serve children in need and with special needs, save homeless pets, and provide goods and services to low income families. They will literally give you the shirts off their backs. A large collection of donated clothing can be found at every festival and is free to anyone who needs them.

How are they inspired? By listening to the music of Donna the Buffalo, and by watching the band and their fellow Herders walk the walk and talk the talk for change. Now, we finally begin to see Grassroots movements taking center stage with the largest effort of its kind entering our political realm this Presidential election, and it’s about time. Although I’ve been an advocate for environmental change for as long as I can remember, the Herd has taught me to give back to my community in other ways, as well. I now volunteer for local arts organizations, give time and money to The Campaign for Change, and work with organizations like the YWCA YGyrl leaders teaching girls about Leadership and Community Services.

I attend every Donna the Buffalo show I can afford. Why? Because I come away refreshed, renewed, and reminded that humans are a wonderful species capable of great kindness, giving, and love, and an inherent goodness. I am reminded that there is a great power in every small community, and every grassroots effort, no matter how small, has the potential to change the world.

Keen Eyes

2008-09-23T18:57:00.000-07:00

On a crisp day last week, we ignored the tufts of clouds threatening possible afternoon rain and drove thirty minutes straight uphill to Harvey’s Knob on the Blue Ridge Parkway. This is not an unusual past-time for us, when we feel we want to get away from the hustle and bustle of city living, but for the next few weeks, Harvey’s Knob will not be as quiet. What is bringing out the crowds? Why, the hawk migration, of course, and it’s a regular bird watcher’s party.

When we arrived, the parking lot was filled with people in their camping chairs, dogs at their feet, telescopes and binoculars trained to the skies. Everyone waved, happy to greet us, and a quick hello got us all the hawk counting statistics we needed to know for the day and most of the facts on last year’s counts from Virginia to Mexico and back again.

People from all walks of life had left their daily grinds to cluster on this particular scenic overlook. Apparently, bird watchers on similar mountain ridges across this vast continent join in hawk counts from mid-August all the way through late November. One couple said they planned their annual vacation around the hawks. They come to Harvey’s Knob every year, leaving jobs as a fire fighter and a school teacher to help HMANA, Hawk Migration Association of America, with their annual count. This year, they will spend two weeks of October in Veracruz, Mexico where the fire fighting bird counter reports, eyes sparkling, that they can see five to six million hawks fly by in one day.

The excitement is contagious. Groups of school students, retired businessmen, a police officer, and several medical professionals spent an enjoyable afternoon with us trading bird watching stories and information on good locations to see Raptors from Alaska to Florida. I found myself teaching some of the students and my mother some tricks on finding the birds with the lenses of their binoculars. Other volunteers patiently described where we all could see the sixth Bald Eagle of the day in a distant break between two fronts of clouds. Everyone, no matter how old or how experienced, felt the thrill when they joined in counting the day’s largest kettle of three hundred Broad Wings as they silently circled over our heads. Imagine our surprise when the day’s count for this one species at this one overlook totaled 3,604.

These stout bodied, brown and beige hawks are one of the first Raptor species to go, leaving their summer breeding grounds in the forests of North America in late August to mid-September. The Broad Wings are not an easy species to observe during their summers here. You will rarely see more than a glimpse of one circling overhead looking for prey. But, they become much easier to spot when they congregate to begin migration. They travel in groups called “kettles” that can number up to thousands of birds, and the groups get larger as they draw closer to their winter habitats.

A recent study by Cornell University used satellite transmitters attached to Broad Wings’ backs to track their migrations. The study found they averaged 111 kilometers or 69 miles a day and traveled over 7000 kilometers to the tropical forests of Central and northern South America. But, once they arrived in their wintering grounds, they inhabited very small ranges staying in territories that averaged just one square mile.

So, if Cornell is tracking these birds, why do they encourage so many volunteers to assist HMANA with their hawk counts? Well, one reason is that birds can be used as indicator species. That is to say, one can study data about their population numbers to track environmental trends and find potential problem areas. With migratory birds, the data collection becomes increasingly difficult when their ranges span continents. But, so too does the importance of knowing their status increase, because knowing if these species' populations are healthy could help scientists identify and address potential environmental issues before they can effect human populations over the many countries where the birds live and migrate.

How does one go about helping with the HMANA Hawk Migration Count? Well, that part is easy. Go to http://www.hmana.org/ to locate a watch area near you. Bring binoculars if you have them, but often you’ll find people with an extra set who are willing to share. You’ll want sunglasses, sun screen, and a comfy folding chair. No prerequisites and no experience necessary, just bring yourselves, your willingness to learn, and your keen eyes.

Endangered Emeril

2008-09-11T07:53:00.000-07:00

Emeril is not just the name of a famous gourmet chef, but also the name of a famous endangered Green Junglefowl, an Asian rainforest chicken. When we first laid eyes on this beautiful iridescent green and blue bird at the North Carolina Zoo, we all agreed he looked too fancy to remain nameless. Then, his bright pink and purple crest fell lopsided over one eye like a French cap and someone said, “Bang! It’s Emeril, the gourmet chicken.” The name suited, and he became our aviary emissary for teaching the public why it’s important to protect the rainforests. What really surprised me was how much that little guy taught me.

For instance, until I started to research Junglefowl, I had no idea that all of the domesticated poultry we use today originated in the rainforest with these birds. Not only poultry, but most domesticated livestock including beef cattle also originated there. Of course, I knew that most of the fruits we eat like bananas, mangos, pineapples, all came from the tropical forests, but I didn’t realize that so too do most of our staple foods like corn, wheat, potatoes, and rice.

And let’s not forget the greatest unofficial food group, that of caffeine. Coffee is still grown in the rainforest because the climate is the best for producing the most beans, and in fact, one who is interested in helping to stop some of the deforestation can easily purchase shade grown varieties from their local Starbucks or the grocery store. This means the plants are grown by companies who no longer clear cut the forest to plant their crops, but grow them under the canopy. Tea is also a rainforest product discovered in Asia. But, the greatest of this food group is the Cacao bean from Central and South America, the very one that makes all things chocolate. Interestingly, this bean is also the oldest recorded form of human currency, once used by the indigenous people to trade for gold and other valuables.

Speaking of gold, we come to one of the many reasons the forest is still disappearing at an alarming rate. Many of the gems, chemical compounds, and minerals we rely on today are mined in the rainforest, including gold, sliver, iron, diamonds, emeralds, and amethysts. The compounds found in abundance in these forests make every day items like plastics, computer chips, and cell phones. Rubber comes from the resin of a certain type of tree, as does chicle for making gum, copal for making varnish and printing ink, and dammar for making lacquer. I look around my office and I am astounded by how much I use from the rainforest every day, right down to the antique wooden desk where I sit, the aluminum can I drink from, and the computer I use to type this article. Even the Peace Lilly and the Christmas Cactus I have to brighten up the space are both rainforest plants.

It is perhaps the plants which are the most important reason for protecting these resourceful areas. The medical industry still relies heavily on plants from these forests to treat many of the worlds most deadly and aggressive diseases. For instance, the only effective treatment for Malaria comes from the Quinine plant. Although, several synthetic drugs have been created, all of these have lost their potency over time, and the industry has had to return to the plant time and time again to treat this disease. Ironically, mosquitoes originally lived only in the high canopies of the forest, and had we humans not cut the trees down, these Malaria infested pests may never have moved to our level, and we may never have needed the Quinine plant.

Regardless, Malaria is not the only disease doctors treat from rainforest plants. The National Cancer Institute says seventy percent of all plants used in cancer treatments come from the rainforest, and new plants with amazing properties are still discovered every year. The Aglaia leptantha of Malaysia has been found to effectively kill twenty types of cancer cells in laboratory tests, including those that cause breast cancer, brain cancer, and melanomas. The WWF says, in the last twenty years 422 new species of plants were discovered in Borneo alone, and most have yet to be tested for their medicinal properties.

Now, if these things don’t make us want to place a higher importance on protecting the rainforests, let’s look at some really important basics for the survival of the human race. The rainforest is home to fifty percent of the plants on earth. We all know that plants create the very Oxygen we need to breath. If the rainforests continue to disappear at the current reported rate of an area the size of a football field every second, or 31 million football fields a year, will there still be enough Oxygen to sustain us all? The rainforest also acts as the world’s thermostat by regulating its temperature and weather patterns. Perhaps all of the strange weather and catastrophic storms we have been witnessing have something to do with the clear cutting of huge areas of said thermostat.

But, things grow fast in the jungle, right? Won’t it all just grow back? Unfortunately, the soil is very thin in these areas and the amount of rain produced is astounding. For an example, one fifth of the fresh water of the world is found in the Amazon Basin alone, and that water comes from the rains. So, clear cut forest equals vulnerable soil that is washed away very quickly leaving nothing but barren rocks. It seems absolutely plausible that if we continue to destroy the rainforests without any thought for the future, we may just find ourselves on the same endangered list with Emeril and his Junglefowl family.

Animality

2008-08-26T06:58:00.000-07:00

Wilma-Lou Teal has something like a complex personality. She is difficult to please and she is not shy about letting you know it. She expects things to be completed promptly to her specifications, and if they are not, she will complain loud and long until things suit her. She goes her own way, even if it differs from the norm. She is a believer in diversification, and the need to accept cross-cultural relationships. She is also a fierce protector of her spouse. All of this is not uncommon for a woman of today, but might come as a surprise from a duck. Wilma is a Chestnut Teal, who lives at the RJ Reynold’s Forest Aviary of the North Carolina Zoo. You may consider it anthropomorphic for me to assign these human characteristics to her. I respond by saying that I’m fairly sure you have not met Wilma-Lou Teal or you might find yourself unable to resist doing the same. Let me introduce you.

Wilma is a small brown bird, about half the size of a Mallard, and she expects her food to be delivered on time. She will not be satisfied with the average dry duck feed. She expects greens and live bugs at every meal. If any of these things are not served on the dot of nine in the morning, Wilma will have something to say about it. She will come out of the water to follow her keepers around the exhibit stretching her head forward and retracting it in a repeating motion while emitting sharp, raspy quacks, like the duck on those famous commercials. At first, I thought it was the staff’s uniform colors that tipped her off on where to direct her complaints, yet visiting staff in the same uniforms are not harassed, nor are any visitors wearing similar navy polo shirts and khaki pants. Only those who work the exhibit daily are singled out, sometimes while visiting in their street clothes.

Although there was a Chestnut Teal male in the exhibit, one with a beautiful iridescent plumage and a green head, Wilma chose as her mate the exhibit’s Rosybill Pochard, known affectionately as Rosy by the staff. Rosy is a dark, black and gray bird with a large rosy colored bill. This unlikely couple has become one of the most strongly bonded pair of ducks I’ve ever worked with, despite the fact that each looks very different from the opposite sex of their own species. Neither of them, according to their natural histories, are monogamous birds, yet neither has shown interest in breeding with any of the other birds in the exhibit.

One morning when I stepped into the aviary, Wilma was standing by the exit door making a long cry that sounded like an infant crying for its mother, a long "waaaaaaa" that she repeated over and over. It did not take long to realize that Rosy was missing, and the staff began to search for him. Since Wilma was so focused on the exit doors, we soon asked the other keepers around the zoo to help us search outside in case he had managed to escape. We also used flashlights to look into the huge tunnels of the air handling system running beneath the aviary to cool and moisten the air. We found no sign of Rosy anywhere. Wilma spent several days in the area of the exit door crying until we had to post guards to make sure she didn’t get stepped on.

We began to think we might only find Rosy's body. However, the exhibit houses over four thousand plants, and although it was unusual for a carcass the size of his to disappear, it had happened before when a sick bird crawled up inside a hollow plant. Some birds had vanished entirely, not surprising since the exhibit was always crawling with ants and other flesh eating insects that came in through the soil floors. We began to feel sure Rosy had passed away and Wilma was grieving, but after several days by the exit door, Wilma moved to another vent area closer to the central pool where she wailed for a few more days until finally, at the end of a long week of guarding her from the visitors, she returned to the pool. We began to get complaints from those visitors who thought we must be doing something terrible to that poor bird to make her wail so. Over and over, we explained that she was mourning the loss of her mate.

We could not have been more wrong. As it turns out, Rosy had fallen through a sink hole in the exhibit, a hole which filled back in with soil each day when staff watered the plants and was not found until after Rosy's disappearance. He was buried in the soil near the exit door for an unknown period of time until he was able to make his way to the area directly below where Wilma had been standing to wail for the first two days. He was able to locate a pocket in the fiberglass seam of a large tunnel in the air handling system where he squeezed through and landed on the floor below. The large tunnel was not accessible to the staff without climbing gear and ropes. He had fallen three stories down from the seam and he was pinioned, made flightless by his previous institution.

Next, Rosy had to run between the blades of a jet engine fan into another adjoining tunnel, which was closer to the pool. He must have made it through the fan on speed and sheer luck. The evidence found showed that he had spent several days in the second tunnel. He then followed Wilma's calls to a wall where he found the air filters, and he managed to dislodge a filter and climb through to a third tunnel, which ran underneath the central pool. Fortunately, the third tunnel was accessed by the staff every other day in order to backwash the pool filter system.

After a little over a week, Rosy was found standing by the pool filter waiting to be rescued. His only injuries were a couple of chopped looking tail feathers and a mild limp. Suddenly, Wilma's strange vigil from the exit to the pool made perfect sense. Upon Rosy’s return, Wilma spent days helping him preen his feathers and they often slept close enough to touch sides. She has never been heard making the baby wailing sound again, not even when Rosy has been separated from her for medical procedures or health checks.

Wilma and Rosy have changed the way I think about animals. I find it amazing that even a duck could be capable of such things. We are so often taught that animals are not like us, that they should be treated differently. We believe they need humans to care for them, to watch over them and keep them, to be stewards for them. Some even take this notion a step farther and believe animals are here to be used by us. Certainly, they cannot think and feel like humans. Wilma and Rosy taught me that animals of all kinds, even ducks, are more like us then I ever imagined. They can and do accomplish amazing things. They can understand more then I gave them credit for, and they each have a unique individuality similar to the personality of a human. Maybe it’s time to find a word for this phenomenon in the English language. I propose animality.

Jenny Elephant Deserves Better

2008-08-21T13:34:00.000-07:00

Several days ago, I received a shock that felt almost like a kick to the stomach. My first zoo, the place where I learned all the joys and sorrows of being a zookeeper, is letting me down in a gigantic way. Perhaps the romantic in me wanted to see the Dallas Zoo as a better place, even though they share the same big business mentality of most zoos, often sacrificing the animals well being to the promise of the almighty dollar. Still, it was my learning ground, the place where I first sank my teeth into the zoo keeping industry. In fact, many of the people I admire most still work there. My blinders remained firmly in place until I got a phone call from a friend to say the zoo had decided to send Jenny elephant to Mexico.

Jenny has lived at the Dallas Zoo for many years in an exhibit much too small and not at all suited to the largest land mammal. Her exhibit was at least updated since I worked there in the early nineties in an effort to meet the AZA's (American Association of Zoos and Aquariums) pitiful standards for this species. Their so-called standards still rate well below what the species needs for a healthy and long life. Most captive elephants die well before they reach the lifespan of their wild counterparts, and when you take into consideration that wild elephants face poachers, human encroachment, and predation to their young, a shorter life expectancy is pitiful indeed. However, only a very few forward thinking zoos have admitted what the industry has known for years. Elephants should not be kept in zoos. Perhaps the new sanctuaries cropping up around the country will provide what these animals need. It's too soon to tell for sure, but at least they offer something different, something new that comes much closer to giving these massive animals a chance for a longer, healthier captive life. What does all of this have to do with Jenny? Stick with me, I'm getting there, but first I have to give you some background.

Jenny, like many of her zoo counterparts, was taken from the wilds of Africa and brought to the Dallas Zoo through an animal broker. This does not mean that the Dallas Zoo necessarily sent someone out to hunt her down, wrangle her up, and load her into a truck. (There I go defending them again.) The truth is more likely something like this; Dallas put an add out via the AZA bulletin saying they were interested in acquiring an elephant, and the animal brokers contacted them listing what animals they had available. Jenny was one of two elephants the Dallas Zoo chose from the list. The other animal's name was Moja. I was told they were sisters by one of their keepers, but I have never verified this, and it could just be a romantic story passed down over the years. Regardless, I have often imagined Jenny and Moja huddled together in the back of some truck jarring their way out of the bush after having watched their mother die attempting to defend them. If this isn't truth, it's certainly plausible. I remember the two of them together, tightly bonded and affectionate. I have a photo of them on exhibit leaning side to side while they ate their hay. The day I took the photo, I watched them rub their trunks together and rumble, seeming more contented than I ever expected while standing in their tiny concrete world.

One morning I arrived at the zoo parking lot to hear a screaming sound rolling down the hill from the large mammal barn. It was followed by clashing and banging. I remember dropping my bag and running up the hill to find out what was happening. Although I was not an elephant keeper, I was close friends with the Animal Care Manager of the Large Mammal Barn, and I often accompanied him to feed Jenny and Moja treats and show my affection to them. Jenny liked to sniff my pockets and my shoes with her trunk and she often leaned against me and rumbled, a greeting elephants use among family members in the wild. Let's just say I'd grown very attached to her. I still have nightmares about the day I first heard Jenny's screams.

When I made it to the top of the hill, I realized Moja was lying dead in her stall. We later found out her heart had stopped due to a fast-acting disease that causes swelling and fluid in the linings around the organ. As was common practice in those days, Jenny was chained in the stall next to Moja unable to touch her friend. She would reach her trunk out, coming just shy of touching Moja, straining against her chains. Then, she would beat her head against the wall, scream, kick, and thrash around. A trail of wet was running down her face below both eyes. The keepers tried to calm her, but they couldn't. Eventually, the zoo administrators ordered Moja hooked up to a crane, and they dragged her out of the building and off exhibit where she wouldn't be seen by the public when they arrived. The whole time, Jenny beat her head, yelling and thrashing until the walls rattled.

Jenny became volatile after that day, prone to uncontrollable rages, lashing out at her keepers. For safety, the zoo was forced to change their management style with elephants in order to keep all physical contact between Jenny and her keepers to a minimum. Jenny lost the touch of her companion and the touch of her keepers virtually on the same day. She has yet to fully recover. Over the years, the zoo has given her anti-depressants, even tranquilizers, to calm her. They have also tried several other companion elephants, but Jenny refused most of them. Sometimes, loud noises would set her off, things like music during special events, loud machinery, strange vehicles, or equipment being used in the area. She has broken the cables in her exhibit with her head more than once during her rages. Eventually, after tireless effort from her keepers, Jenny was introduced to and had finally accepted another African elephant companion.

The keepers feel Jenny has been making progress, and I believe them. No one works harder and cares more for the animal than the underpaid and undervalued zookeepers. For the last few years, Jenny seemed a bit more content with her new elephant friend. Unfortunately, that animal recently died. I cannot imagine what this latest loss has done to Jenny. To make a sad story worse, the zoo administrators have made a horrifying choice for her. A choice I doubt her keepers can advocate, although I'm betting they would never say so publicly if they value their jobs. Jenny is being sent to Africam in Mexico, a drive-thru safari park. This new zoo has no African Elephants and their staff has only experienced working with Asians, which by nature are much more docile. Even the most seasoned veteran keepers are risking life and limb every time they come in contact with Jenny in a rage. Why would anyone send her off to a place with no experience caring for animals of her nature?

If that's not enough to convince you, remember that Jenny has often gone into rages when loud noises are in the vicinity, and she has broken through steel cables with her head. Yet, the Dallas Zoo is sending her to a drive-thru park where she will be exposed daily to cars. I understand there will be nothing holding her back from the unsuspecting visitors but a mote and some hot wire. I have witnessed elephants who learned to ground hot wire against their tusks in order to keep from being shocked so they could reach a branch of browse on the other side. Hot wire will not stop Jenny in a rage. Yet the Dallas Zoo refuses to even consider sending Jenny to The Elephant Sanctuary right here in Tennessee. She could live in a place where she will be off exhibit on hundreds of acres with a quiet, calm environment and numerous other African elephants. At the very least, the Dallas Zoo could keep Jenny and find her another companion animal. Apparently, they would rather send her to another country without even the benefit of animal rights laws to protect her. Jenny deserves better, and the Dallas Zoo should be ashamed!