Much Maligned

I needed to relax, otherwise I’d arrive in Oregon an exhausted mess. I had no intention of adding to the crisis. There’s already enough pain. I needed to get Peggy. So I paced myself and tried to nurture my mind and soul. It’s always me that goes on these “there’s trouble in the family” trips. I’ve learned how to manage my mental resources. Stopping to be creative is one of my most effective tools.



I’d noticed a break in the trees on either side of the road. Two lakes came together, the waters of both mingling together under a small bridge. Slowly I made my way down the dirt roadway seeking signs of wildlife. I’d seen a variety of species earlier so I knew there was a wide variety of waterfowl in this wildlife refuge.

What I didn’t expect were these double-crested cormorants. I do not believe I could have picked a better “avain metaphor” to fold into this tale of “high adventure” to save an unknown soul from out of control wildfires, all during a major pandemic, and just before a potential civil war begins.



Why so? Well, these particular birds are a controversial upper midwest native. They are traditionally seen as “undesirable” and as competition for fishing resources used in human consumption. Their range of nesting colonies have been exterminated across the north. People would kill these ungainly looking, dark feathered large birds that look to be a cross between a goose and crow in a variety of creative manor. One that stands out to me are the small fleets of boats full of folks firing silenced “22s” into the nesting sites.

A number of recent scientific studies has proven that they actually feed on smaller fish that compete with the fry of “desirable”fish and may indeed benefit the fishing industry more than harm it. But emotion still rules over scientific facts. I was very lucky to stumble into one of the few remaining sanctuaries these unfairly maligned birds enjoy.

A near complete expatriation of an entire species driven by emotions and traditions and not facts.



I chuckled to myself darkly as I got back into my Jeep to go get Peggy and bring her home.

#GottaGetPeggy #OIIIIIIIO #JourneyToTheWest

A Prairie Wetland Refuge

I’d passed through Iowa like a great blue comet. My mostly straight, white tail of limestone dust trailing out behind my jeep as I rode up and down gently sloped gravel roads. I began engaging the various breathing, meditation techniques taught me by some unique practitioners I’ve had the fortune to learn from. My mind calmed as my tires ground out rhythm, a song composed of the crushed dust of long dead oceans fanned out as I passed over the land. I was in the same sort of “zone” I get into when really into a gym routine or trail run. It was to be a state of mind I'd keep for nearly the entire trip once I’d crossed the Mississippi.

Pandemic? Check. Wildfires burning out of control? Check. Going to Portland during major political and civil upheaval? Check A divided Nation that could break into civil war? Check. Unknown family member who could be “ANYTHING?” Check. Getting her home alive when a cough could kill her and I’m already driving in smoke? Check. The responsibility of taking on another elder? Check. Concern over my preteen daughter when so many kids seem to be contemplating suicide and knowing your own issues aren’t helping ANYONE?! CHECK.

Check. Check. Check… the backdrop of this journey to the west couldn’t be more extreme for me spiritually, emotionally, or mentally. Or could it? By this point I fully expected Yellowstone to erupt in volcanic fury as soon as I passed the Rockies. At the time of this writing it hasn’t but it’s early yet and the story’s not over…

I still had to get Peggy. I needed to rest and gather my strength so I randomly turned aside and found myself in a wildlife sanctuary in Minnesota. Of course it was just what I needed.

#GottaGetPeggy #OIIIIIIIO #JourneyToTheWest