Labor Day Weekend, Pt. II: Silent Crows, Really!

Monday, Labor Day, Henry’s First Birthday! 

It's hard to believe Henry is one year old today.  Wow, time has really flown by.  It's even harder to believe we are 2,500 miles away. 

It's cloudy again today but not raining.  We decide to skip a BBQ by the Island Air Service and stay in.  We’ve both got good books from the library, and are deep into them.  We also get  a nice selection of cable TV channels, but even that gets old.  I just finished a Jack Reacher novel, from 2010, and it was a page-turner, as usual.  I think I may have read all of them now.  

Around 11 AM I need a break from reading and some fresh air, and take the dogs for a drive.  We head further out the Pt St Nick Road, looking for the Craig Reservoir, thinking this remote spot might be good for birds and animal watching.  It’s not so far, but we get to a substantial locked gate, not so surprising given it’s the water supply for a city.  There is a prominent sign announcing this, noting no admittance without authorization, and that it’s a federal offense to continue.  Oh, and by the way, just for extra measure, the sign was paid for by the Department of Homeland Security.  Oh, and it’s six days from the tenth anniversary of 9/11:  I thought about going in anyway.  I’ve got two golden retrievers with me, and permission to visit the reservoir from the City Manager, sort of; we are way, way out in the boonies.  If by some wild chance someone saw me and called me on it, I’ve got an explanation.  But, I can read English, so I decide better.  I park the car here, let the dogs out, and head off in another direction.

 

I find a road and head up, hoping I’ll be able to get a good look at the reservoir from above and a distance.  I’m also wondering why I have a desire to see this reservoir, wondering if I’m still under the Dry San Diego spell, still grasping at the chance to see any freshwater, dammed or wild.  Why is it so important now, to see a reservoir with a four-foot dam, when I’m literally surrounded by inland waters and flowing creeks and waterfalls?  Hmmm. 

The road runs through old fashioned clearcuts, now crowded with red alder and young evergreens.  I hear a bird, and spot a winter wren.  I spy a single robin.  I'm hoping for a glimpse of a bear, with the low plant growth and the great views I have across the valley.  I hear a new bird, and see juncos!  Anywhere else they would be common, but here, they are an exciting new species for me.  A single raven cuts across the sky, calling his warning of intruders to other unseen ravens. 

Red Alder leaves and yellow cedar sprays

We keep climbing the road, hoping for a look at the reservoir.  It's obvious finally that the road goes farther than I expected past the gate, and hooks around a mountain, no reservoir in sight.  We come across a pickup sitting in the middle of the road up ahead.  I haven't heard any gunfire, don't know the hunting seasons, but decide to turn around anyway, keeping the silence and wilderness experience for both of us. 

We return to the car and drive back to the main road.  I find a patch of forest cut away to the river, and go exploring.  There are a couple of hundred seagulls squawking away and dining on dead salmon, having a feast.  A group of five crows fly in, another bird that, anywhere else would be common, but not here.  Very oddly, they land in the trees near me, never making a sound.  They fly down to a log to dine on salmon, but remain absolutely quiet.  Quiet crows - am I in the Twilight Zone?!  Who has ever heard of silent crows?  

I can see out beyond the mouth of the river, over the gravel bars where the seagulls are congregated, across the inlet to where we are staying.   

Kelli is posting updates on Henry’s day.  They have gone to the zoo, and he had his first soft serve ice cream!

Sunday, September 04, 2011              Rain off and on all night.  It started yesterday evening. 

I spy the otter again, swimming just offshore.  Seeing this happy-go-lucky swimmer always brings a smile to my face.  He always seems to be having fun, swimming so effortlessly, bobbing up and down, diving under the surface in one spot and coming up in a random, unpredictable spot.  The water is often glassy, but even if it’s a little roughed up, his surfacing always sends off the concentric ripples, which point right to him.
    

Coincidentally, got a text from Kelli around 10:30 PM, saying they had a creepy mystery.  We texted back and forth, tried talking on the telephone and that didn’t work.  About three minutes into this, we started hearing something, or someone, screaming.  We got up and listened at the window, and it sounded to me like bears fighting.  It continued off and on for the next half an hour; the more we heard it, the more it sounded like one bear, in distress, like it was caught or injured or something.  There is nothing but thick forest to the left of our place, and it was dark and rainy, so no way for us to go investigate.  It would stop for ten or fifteen minutes, then start up again, for five minutes or so.  It finally stopped.  I either had a dream or it woke me up early in the morning.

One year ago today, Kathy and I and Kirsten and Jared were all focused on Kelli, as she went in to labor.  We all went to the Birthing Center about 5 PM.  All went well until about 2:00 AM on Sunday, when the baby’s heartrate began nose-diving whenever Kelli pushed.  The midwife told her to stop, and called the paramedics.  A half an hour later, baby Henry was born via c-section.  He is the most precious baby I’ve ever seen, and that has continued as he has grown.  Tomorrow he turns one year old, which hardly seems possible.  Who knew at the time of his birth that Kathy and I would be 2500 miles away for his first birthday?  I could not have imagined this was even possible, and still hardly can:  we have missed his last two months of growth and happy smiles, and now will miss his first birthday.

We went to church this morning at St. John’s By the Sea in Klawock.  It was made more special by the baptism of Olivia, a tiny baby.  The Priest gave a wonderful mass about this new member of the church.  Several lines from the hymn "God of Day and God of Darkness" struck me as especially important:

.........
When the Sun of peace and justice
fills the earth with radiant light.
Still the nations curse the darkness,
still the rich oppress the poor.
Still the earth is bruised and broken
by the ones who still want more.
Come and wake us from our sleeping,
so our hearts cannot ignore
all your people lost and broken,
all your children at our door...........