I’m not alone, I’d guess, in searching for signs of inspiration these days: Anything to lift the spirit and provide serenity, hope and assurance in this time of fear, uncertainty and isolation.

Nature’s a good place to look, right?

Yes and no.

Our routine, these stay-at-home days, is to go for a walk, usually in the evening just before sunset. Judy and I walk down the golf course in front of our Sun City Center house, making a loop that covers six golf holes. It’s about a mile and a half and we do it in less than an hour.

One stop on our way has been to see the mother Sandhill Crane sitting on her nest on a small island in a pond just off of the Hole 7 fairway. We first noticed her nine days ago. Since then she’s been sitting patiently, waiting. We saw no mate until yesterday.

Yesterday we took our walk in the morning, and sure enough, around 10 AM, there were three where before we only saw one: Mom, Dad (he finally showed up) and a baby not much bigger than a softball. Mom and Dad pecked away looking for bugs and slugs to eat. Baby followed their lead looking for bugs of his own.

One egg remained in the nest, unhatched. Mom would occasionally sit back on the nest but only for a few seconds. Hope dies slowly, even for this mother crane.

That’s great – the kind of spirit-lifter I’ve been looking for. What a great family! Do birds feel pride and love when they give birth? Maybe not, but those birds fooled me. And the baby’s attraction to and trust in her parents was obvious.

Then, the real miracle. As we watched the family set out on its first venture off the island to dry land and the wild world beyond. First one and then the other parent waded into the shallow water. Baby didn’t hesitate. With legs too short for wading, he paddled along with Mom and Dad, up the bank of the pond and away they went down the fairway, pecking the ground as they went.

Joyous feeling: complete. There is hope in this world after all!

Until today.

We returned to the nest this evening to find Mom and Dad back on the nesting island.

Alone. No baby in sight.

Mom and Dad seemed to search the immediate area looking for their offspring. Then they broke into what I took to be a mating ritual, leaping, one after the other, into the air and squawking bird calls to each other. Or was this an expression of grief and wishes that they could start all over again so as to make it all better?

Again, who knows what flows through the mind of a bird with such a tiny brain. But sadness and disappointment were, to me, clearly evident in their behavior and are emotions that we share with them.

Oh well, one might say. That’s nature. But in this case, it wasn’t. A near-by homeowner came out to tell us that the baby was killed by a dog, running off leash, yesterday afternoon, less than eight hours after leaving the nest. The dog was accompanied by its owners who rode in a golf cart while their dog, illegally, ran loose. Mom and Dad put up a fight, the man said, but to no avail.

So now to sadness and disappointment add anger. Sure, the baby might not have survived against natural predators. But to lose out to irresponsible pet owners is too much, for me at least, to bear.

And the egg remaining in the nest? It’s gone, eaten by an alligator sometime today, the homeowner told us.

We return you now to Covid-19, already in progress.

Update: April 2: The nest has been repurposed as a tanning salon for the neighborhood baby ‘gator. Digesting his egg, no doubt. Nature moves on.

 

Forty six years ago this morning I was sitting by the pool of a motel in Topsfield Massachusetts with my mom, dad and brother, my high school English teacher and Judy’s cousins Debbie and Sharon.. Forty six years ago today at 2::00 PM I got married.

Today at 2:00 PM the four-masted schooner the Margaret Todd cast of its lines for a two-hour cruise of Penobscot Bay. Sitting next to me was the same gal – Judy – who exchanged I Dos with me 46 years before.

Forty six years ago we never would have guessed that we’d share this anniversary with two grandkids – Carter and Reagan – on a trip to Mt. Desert Island. Nor would we ever guess that we’d be living next door – literally – to Griffin and Esme – our two other grandkids.

And we of course had no idea that our union – truely a blessed union as it turned out – would produce Jeff and Rebecca, parents of the aforementioned grandkids.

The one constant across the last 46 years is the place we left this morning for this adventure: Lake Onawa. I visited Judy and her family there nine years before our I Do day 46 years ago today.

The four of us set out around 7:30 AM and by 11:30, Dunkin’ Donuts stop included, we were buying tickets for the Margaret Todd. We walked the waterfront, ate crab and lobster rolls (and, the house specialty, a bowl of mac and cheese) and boarded for the cruise under full sail for two hours. The day was beautiful, a National Park ranger provided commentary and the views were the typical coast of Maine seascapes you see every month in DownEast magazine.

Carter had the most accurate 10-year-old observation: « thé first part of any trip flies by. The last hour goes on forever.«  He was more than ready to walk the plank as soon as we tied up at the town dock

The next stop had Carter written all over it: Thunder Hole  Did it matter that the hole produced no thunder? Not at all. Carter burned all his energy stored up on the cruise jumping and running on the kelp- and barnacle-covered granite rocks  He gave his poor elderly grandparents continual heartbeat stoppages watching him  Even his sister got into the act: ”Careful, Carter! Don’t run so fast  Stay away from the edge.”  Eventually she decided if she couldn’t lick him she’d join him and went boulder hopping with him out of sight behind a huge granite outcropping near the water’s edge  That got Nana into the act: “Grandpa, you stay up here with me  The kids are fine. Don’t you fall and kill yourself trying to follow them.”

Everyone escaped and we traveled on to Northeast Harbor in search of a lobster dinner with which to celebrate 46. We settled at a low-key inn at Seal Harbor. While lobster was on the menu at a reasonable price they had none on hand so we settled on newburg and halibut, promising ourselves  lobster tomorrow night.

Then on to the Anchorage Motel to check in; 15 minutes later we walked back a few blocks to the Bar Harbor Town Green for the 8 PM open-air band concert. Carter was less than thrilled. At 8:04 he pointed out two nearby ice cream stands  I said ok but not until 8:30: a twenty six minute eternity.  So I walked him once around the green and timed his solo circuit and said, “Carter, make 10 more loops and we’ll do ice cream “ He did, we did and now we’re snug in our two double beds for the night.

it took 46 years to get here but what a trip!

 

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