Preparing to Launch

All spring I have been captivated by the nesting pair of bald eagles on Little Loon island on Squam Lake as they worked to raise a healthy pair of eaglets.  Through the efforts of photographer Lee Grenier of Ashland who regularly photographed the pair and their fledglings,  I have had a "birds-eye" view of this feathered family. Jim and I visited the nesting area several times, sitting quietly in our boat at sunset, watching the two eaglets stretch their wings, helicopter above the nest, and in general prepare to launch.

The nesting pair has done a terrific job. For the first time this spring, from studying their leg bands, we have learned that the male was raised 13 years ago on Quabbin Reservoir in Massachusetts. The female is 11 years old and comes the same general area on Little Quabbin Island. It is believed by biologists  that they have been a pair since about 2003 and have raised all 12 young produced from the Little Loon Island nest.

Last weekend, the eaglets took flight. While still in the area, and still learning from the adult pair, they have begun their journey into independence. In late August, my youngest child heads to college. I can only hope that my efforts to nurture will prove as successful as those of these magnificent eagles.

FLYING LESSONS: Eaglets watch as the adult bald eagle shows them how it is done. (Photo by Lee Grenier Asland NH)

HOLDING ON BY A TOE: An adult eagle casts a cool eye on the efforts of its eaglet to achieve liftoff. (Photo by Lee Grenier Ashland)

Touching the Wild

What does it feel like to hold a fledgling Peregrine Falcon -- a NH endangered species -- in your hands as a band is fixed around its leg, to identify it wherever it might go. How does something so magnificent yet threatened feel? Is it fluffy? Do the feathers pad its body or does it compress like cotton candy to nothing more than a pile of sharp little bones? Is the hand-sized baby bird fragile?

These questions flew through my mind when I was asked to help band one of the five baby birds born only three weeks before.  I listened to my instructions from the naturalist: do not make sudden movements, if it pecks you do not jerk your hands. And then slowly I reached out, gently wrapping my hands around the soft body. For those few minutes as I steadied the little bird, I had crossed a line between my world and his.  I could feel a racing heart, a little warmth — I touched wild.

Tomorrow

The September sky is ominously quiet overhead. My body trembles. An earthquake shakes my soul. Jets have crashed; skyscrapers have burned and collapsed; thousands have died. We know not where or when the carnage will end.

I walk barefoot in the grass seeking the top of the hill behind my home. Breathe deeply, I tell myself, keep moving. My feet find the path I have walked a thousand times. How could it look the same today? A small stream sparkles, freshened by recent rains; a maple loses an early leaf. In the distance, hills fade into one another until Mt. Monadnock rises with assurance above them. I lie down, pressing my back into the warm grass. My shaking quiets.  The deep blue sky is empty until pierced by a hawk flying in early migration. There will be a tomorrow.

Immersed

No where else on earth does the water smell like fresh earth and feel like velvet. It is what makes Squam Lake magical and it is what I seek every morning just after the sun rises. I immerse myself in the water and become one with the waterbugs, loons, fish and eagle flying overhead as I slowly swim the shoreline.

At this time of morning with my eyes at waterline I can see across the lake as clearly as if I could reach out and touch the other shore. Rain or shine, cold or warm, I swim to be part of the rhythm of nature, if only for a week or two.

Daughters Know Best

Ever since 1967 when the Sierra Club published On The Loose by Jerry and Renny Russell about growing up in the wilderness areas of California and Utah, I have wanted to visit Patagonia -- what I considered in those days to be the ultimate wilderness. But time passed and while I had a chance to explore many wild spots in Colorado, Montana and Wyoming, Patagonia was always too far, too remote, or took too much time.

Then last fall my daughter, a Latin America studies major, called (Skyped) from her term abroad in Santiago, Chile and said someone from the family needed to visit. I heard my husband and myself uttering the same excuses, too far, too remote, not enough time and too costly. I also shuddered privately at the thought that we might be too old. She persisted and finally we agreed that I would go.

My daughter is too young, even at 20, to fully understand the impact of the trip on me. We climbed to the base of the Torres in Torres del Paine, we rode bicycles along a glacial fjord, we tasted centuries old ice from a glacier, we hiked among herds of wild horses and squawking llama-like guanaco, and almost touched a Condor flying low over our heads. I fell in love with a place that had always been in my imagination and it is my daughter I thank for reminding me of my dream.

Adventure is not in the guidebook and Beauty is not on the map. Seek and ye shall find." -- from On the Loose.

Like a Whiff of Perfume

A photo can be like a whiff of perfume, conjuring up all sorts of immediate memories and feelings. When I look at this photo I can hear the waves, feel the sun, and smell the warm salty air of Popham Beach, Maine. It brings back wonderful memories of great friends and of times when our children were small.