Sabal Palms Sanctuary . . . the feeder

At the bird feeder by the old visitor center, listening to the last rain drops hitting the leaves and palms. 








Watching the water drops hitting the leaves and causing them to flutter. Seeing the reflections of the green tree leaves in the reflections on the dark deck. Feeling the gentle cool breeze. Hearing the quiet voices of a group of birders who drop by but don't stay.   As I wonder if any birds will visit the feeders on this wet day, I hear a bird calling. Chachalacas pass by with their loud cackling call. 






The forest is thick and green around this old visitor center. It is quiet now - only the sound of the occasional rain drop. 

The Green Jay arrives. 

Buff bellied on feeder.

When I mention to a visitor one appeared - a female. 

Shortly a male arrived - giving me ample time to study him but not to photograph. 

Maybe he will come back.

2 white tipped doves silently arrive. 

Now 3 white tipped doves are at the feeder. 

Buff bellied hummingbird came back allowing photo opportunity 

Now there are 4 doves. 

Green jays come in disturbing the white tipped doves

Now 4 green jays but my cough scares the doves off but the green jays quickly return. 

It has been the quiet of nature but in the distance is the rumble of machinery - the bass of a car radio's beats in the distance. 

Hoping for an oriole to drop by . . .

The dove wings whir as they fly off. 

The rumble of thunder precedes the next group of people with their footsteps and quiet voices. 

They pass on by for the trails. 

I have a nice quiet place to weather the storm and a raincoat to keep my equipment dry. But I would prefer that it not rain on my hiking friends. 

I wonder, "Will a Cooper's hawk come fly over the feeder this time as it did the last scattering the birds?"(Sadly, it didn't.)

A loud group of chachalacas passes noisily by out of sight.

10 white tipped doves whir away as they are startled by my cough. 

White tipped doves melodically coo behind me. 

The buff bellied briefly returns. 

Jays come in but the white tipped soon reclaim the feeder. 

The water drops dripping from the leaves are a calming sound. 

As I see movement in the low vegetation and hope for olive sparrow but so far it is always white tipped dove.

The buff bellied comes in briefly.

A soft high call note signals the presence of another small bird. 

Only one chirp. Will it call again, will it reveal itself or will it be just the one note that told of its presence without revealing the identity?

After 4 days of birding, I am soaking in the quiet peace so far removed from the ugly election hoopla. 

A group of chachalaca come silently one by one to the feeder.  

The 5 chachalaca have control of the feeder. 

2 Black crested titmice arrive but can't compete with the chachalaca. 

Green jays and doves wait for the chachalaca to leave.

More human voices. They don't come close as they walk by on their trail. 

The chachalacas are finishing their meal and the green jays return. 

Human voices scatter the birds but a brave few remain at the feeder. 

People stop and we quietly visit sharing stories,

A couple of small birds possibly orange crowned warblers tease us but stay out of sight refusing to reveal their identity.

A cottontail rabbit comes through grazing on the vegetation. 

They tell me the trails are slippery confirming the wisdom of enjoying the feeder station 

Loving watching the green jay's yellow tail display in flight. 

Mourning dove arrives. 

I move over to sit on the wet wooden seats and I am rewarded by a better view and photograph of the buff bellied hummingbird. 

Time to go . . . I enjoyed this peaceful, restful interlude in one of my favorite places in the Rio Grande Valley.

Sorrow, tears, and laughter

As Evelyn grew weaker and weaker over the last couple of years, we knew our time with her was limited. This time when we got "the call," we knew the end was coming. I could tell when I saw her the first night at the hospice, that she was the weakest I had ever seen her. By Saturday evening, all the family that could get to the hospice had gathered.

The BSA hospice was really a wonderful place, her room was large and the adjacent room and courtyard allowed plenty of "spillover" space for all the family that was gathered. While Evelyn had been wanting a big family reunion, these were not the circumstance that she had in mind. Evelyn slept most of Saturday. She knew we were in the room, and we regularly gave her ice chips and let her know we were there. She even ate a little lunch, which gave us a little hope. However, her breathing was ragged and she quit taking much liquid around 6:00. At one point, her breathing became ragged and as Mary tried to help her take deep breaths, she did not immediately respond. We had an instant of panic that perhaps she would not wake up, but Mary said in a louder voice: "Roger is almost here - he's going to be here soon." Her eyes popped wide open, and she woke up a little bit. When Walter came in and told her Roger was here, she perked up. She knew we were all there and immediately asked, "Is anyone taking pictures?"

All we had was our cell phones, but out they came. In spite of the sad circumstances, we got photos of the family as we shared a unique time of family fellowship. There was laughter mixed with tears, joy that all of her kids were together for her this one last time. Glad that she knew we were all together. As I realized that all of the Amarillo grandchildren and great grandchildren were here, I called my children. They had that one last conversation with their grandmother - and she was able to answer back, however weakly. During this incredible two or three hour window, she was the most alert and coherent she had been all day.

It had elements of a party, a family reunion, where there was that special joy in being together as a family, but there were tears because we knew she was leaving us, but a peace because we knew she was going to a better place where one day we will join her. She was going to join her beloved husband. I know that the prayers being lifted up on our behalf from all the family's churches help give us a special sense of peace and comfort that night.

When she died the next day, we all realized that we had been given one of those special gifts from God - that last time as a family with her mentally present and with us.

Sorrow, tears, love, laughter . . . we had a special bittersweet time Saturday night . . . Sunday she slept most of the day, rousing to tell Martha, "I'm tired, I'm tired of fighting . . . I want to go home." As her breaths became farther and farther apart, she went home. I know she was greeted by Gene, her sister Louise, her parents and grandparents. We are going to miss her so much, but some part of her remains with each of us - our memories of what a special lady she was.