The caravan began gathering long before I joined. I woke up early, ready for a weekend of exploration. I woke up prepared, dehydrated and hungover after an evening of tasting wine
for a good cause.
They were observing bald eagle habitat, and the creatures which inhabit it.
We drove to the rendezvous point; the air was moist and teasing of spring. We parked in the airport and waited for the caravan of observers and identifiers. I sat in the truck and listened to NPR reports of our recessing economy. I got out of the truck to stretch and watched a plane fly past a bird on it’s way to landing in the tiny airport.
The caravan arrived. We shuffled gear and food supplies from car to car. We were off to the Yoop for adventures galore.
We saw snowy owls.
We spotted them then watched them as they perched atop things, bearing the cold with down feathered coats. The wind splashed through their feathers as their heads twisted in free rotation; eyes piercing creepy as if you were looking into a mirror and seeing the face of god. It made me want to jump like I was a spooked horse, but then bringing my eyes back to the group grounded my thoughts and I was able to see the silliness, beauty and awe in it all.
These lone creatures perched in postures of wisdom, carrying eyes of all knowingness, contrast the love that radiated from our mobile gypsy camp. We be characters from all walks of life united by the fascination of gawking god straight in the face and saying “Hey! I am either going to analyze the hell out of this or simple absorb atmosphere like a sponge.”
The flat stretches of landscape held a thick mist of cold damp February thaw. Earth danced through particles of frigid humidity, brushing against our open skin, invigorating our spirits as we huddled around “the scope,” outside of our travel mobiles.
We Observed.
We looked at things. We looked at countryside until the image of birds appeared. We trekked through snow until we found coyote mating tracks. We sloshed through sticky heavy snow on our snowshoes. We bantered and chattered past beaver chews and dammers. We used tools like binoculars to observe in the present. We used tools like cameras to observe in the future. We used these tools to focus-in, on the eye of god. We used our ears to listen to the voice of god through the tweeddle-dee-dee’s of a unidentified birds.
We observed a fox, taking a lazy Sunday nap, curled up on a box, dreaming of maple sap. Some of us caught a glimpse of a flying rabbit, flapping dangerously low through the trees, while others went “all the way” home skiing on the Saint Mary’s River.
We flowed like the rushing riving below the ice cover we skied on. We broke apart and we united for an amazing experience of group solitude and recovery. We took care of ourselves; we listened to our bodies calls to be stretched or to nap or sun bathe, after a long day of skiing. We took care of each other with fire stoking, tea brewing, food making, silent sharing, song playing and love radiating.
Together we watched in awe of a woodpecker pecking. Together we watched in awe of a setting sun splashing golden laser beams into the living room and kitchen. The bay windows over looked the Saint Mary’s River as if we were cruising in the bow of a freighter. Together we watched that power slightly removed from us pain layers upon layers of atmosphere with a sky blue pink paintbrush.
