Flight

A downside to drones

September 8, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Can we talk about drones for a minute?

Not FAA regulations and local laws, because those are debated elsewhere–more knowledgeably and objectively than I might. Let’s talk, instead, about the ways in which these sky cameras, built for fun, might negatively affect wildlife habitats and the places we’ve come to know as our private sanctuaries. Not a high-level discussion, but an up-close-and-personal, eyewitness view.

Imagine that you’re enjoying a morning walk on the beach, toes digging into sand, as gentle waves splash ashore.

Now that the tourists have gone home, the beaches are nearly empty. But look! There’s a trio of seals to keep you company–further out to sea, sunning themselves on Goff Cove Island.

They’ve come to know and trust you, because you approach them with a quiet reverence…

…zooming in with your camera but never encroaching on their comfort zone.

They snooze while you’re scrambling over the rocks, investigating the tide pools and snapping photos–ever watchful, but never fearful. You’re buddies now, and they even talk to you.

“What do you see out there?” a newcomer asks.

You point, and then marvel together at their sleek beauty.

A bull seal reveals itself, watches you watching him. The potential for danger is always near, for both of you. But instinct is a powerful thing. You know you are safe, and so does he.

You pan your camera across the ocean, sun-kissed waves to sandy shore. There is no curating to be done here. It’s their habitat, and you are the guest.

The seals doze, perk up now and again, no doubt attuned to sounds your human ears aren’t sensitive enough to hear.

And then, near the very end of your videotaping session, you hear a menacing whine.

The seals are on heightened alert, now.

A strange beast crests the rocks…bobbing, whirring, careening back and forth in unpredictable patterns. Then it drops, dozens of feet, at high velocity.

The herd panics. The bull seal gives a signal, and they dive into the water, all four of them, and vanish.

Maybe it’s a stretch to think that drones will eventually stake their claim on everything, within and beyond a human’s reach. Maybe it’s wrong to extrapolate, from my own experience, that we’re edging toward a world in which curiosity outstrips compassion, privacy goes by the wayside, and convenience trumps all. But there’s no doubt in my mind that we should set some ground rules while we can.

UPDATE: This encounter inspired me to take action–one voice of many, writing letters & making calls. In response to community concerns, Laguna Beach passed into law an ordinance banning drones over city parks, near beaches, and over government buildings! As of 13 July, 2017, “Drone-flying is still allowed over private property and over the ocean, but harassment of marine wildlife will not be tolerated,” Laguna Beach Police Chief Farinella said.

Flight Plans: #AugustBreak2016

August 1, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Sunlight spreads itself across the neighboring hillsides, nudging the earth out of its slumber. A hummingbird glides easily between palm dates and salvia, chittering as it sips nectar, and I celebrate with her the sweetness of this new day.

This is my first entry in the monthlong, collaborative photography project, “August Break 2016,” a mindfulness activity that draws participants away from their daily routines and into the wider world. Inspired by a specific prompt, you snap a new photograph every day in August. No need for fancy equipment, and you can bend the rules to suit your needs or interests.

I’m using Susannah Conway’s #AugustBreak2016 as an opportunity to practice something I’ve struggled with: capturing sharp images of hummingbirds in flight. I’ll also be spending lots of time at my writing desk, polishing up a special project. Each creative act, inspiring and informing the other…

Some of you might remember that I participated last year. Aside from the healthful benefits of venturing outdoors, those photography outings had carry-over effects on my writing, all for the good. Focus. Experimenting with light and dark. Seeing things from different angles, and expressing myself in new ways.

If this sparks your own creative urges, I hope you’ll grab your camera and join us!

Rain and Beau take to the skies

June 30, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Treat yourself, why don’t you, to our hummingbird hatchlings’ pre-fledge antics. Watch as Rain helicopters above the nest, hovers mid-flight, and manages a graceful landing on a twig beside the nest. Beau’s feathers get ruffled, but he looks on with rapt attention. Aryana chirps in the distance, as if to say, “Come into the garden, kids–let’s play!”

Not long after I filmed their playtime, Rain zipped off to join Aryana in the flowerbeds. Beau surfed the ocean breezes, hanging ten on the rim of the roomier nest.

See the shadowy “beard” on Beau’s chin? That’s a simple way to differentiate a juvenile hummingbird male from its female counterparts. Rain has white-tipped tail feathers, instead.

I revisited the nest before dinnertime, and voilà!

The nest is empty now, but my heart is full. I’m grateful for Aryana’s mothering instincts; thankful, too, for the fuchsia that camouflaged and provided shelter for three successful broods.

I also appreciate everyone who gathered around Aryana’s nest with me, watching her tiny eggs crack open, revealing featherless hatchlings that grew overnight, it seemed, eventually sprouted gossamer wings and needle-shaped beaks.

And yes, I’m glad for this schoolbus-yellow ladder. I’ve climbed it again and again with my camera, over the past several months…

…receiving firsthand the gifts that come of observing up close those tiny jewels of the sky.

Rainbows, flights of fancy, shimmery magic, and Mother Nature’s sensibilities: I’m grateful for this embroidered tapestry, stitched on my heart by a charm of hummingbirds. You, too?

Rain and Beau: Baby hummingbirds, about to fledge

June 29, 2016 by Melodye Shore

Until you spread your wings,

You’ll have no idea how far you can fly.

(Unknown)

Aryana, a non-migrating Allen’s hummingbird, built her nest in the fuchsia that grows along my front walkway, way back in December. And here we are, celebrating her fourth brood of the 2015-16 mating season.

Such a good mama: she camouflaged her nest among the foliage, and protected it from predators by sheltering it under a tiled roof overhang.

We named this pair of hatchlings Rain and Beau, in honor of the Orlando nightclub shooting victims, “because love is love is love is love…” And you already know how much I adore these tiny harbingers of hope.

Rain hatched 23 days ago, and Beau broke free of his shell the day after.

At the time, they looked like tiny raisins with stubby orange beaks.

But they quickly grew pinfeathers, and their beaks grew long and dark.

Mama Aryana fed them slurry mixtures of nectar and insects, and before long, they were fighting for space inside their cushy-soft nest.

While Aryana was off foraging, I climbed a very tall ladder to observe these wee little miracles and the architectural wonder that they inhabit. I never interfered with Aryana’s nesting habits, never touched her cottony treasurebox or the tiny jewels it protected.

I used a zoom lens and my camera settings to get close-ups, which make the hummingbird babies seem much larger than they really are. They also make this tape measure appear closer to the nest than it actually is. Mama hummingbird trusted me with her babies–a privilege and an honor that I’d never violate.

I snapped this photo just shy of three weeks post-hatch. Notice their their needle-sharp beaks and shimmery wings? They’re looking more like adult hummingbirds every day.

And at 23 days post-hatch, Rain and Beau are perched on the nest rim, flapping their wings and pointing their beaks toward parts unknown.

I’m snapping photos from my front porch now–stretching my camera to its limits, but I don’t startle them into fledging early.

As my friend Priscilla Sharp said, “It looks like they are sitting in a classroom, paying close attention, absorbing all the lessons from unseen teachers to prepare to go out into the world.”

An occasional ocean breeze wafts into the sheltered alcove, ruffling their iridescent wings. Teased forward by Mother Nature’s nudging, they seem ready for lift-off. But for now at least, they’re holding tight to the nest with tiny talons. Won’t be long, though, until whoosh! Off they’ll go.

Art Challenge of the Week: Amid waves of concern, a sea of calm

November 20, 2015 by Melodye Shore

When was the last time you spent a relaxing day at the beach, completely unplugged–

resting quietly at the ocean’s edge,

utterly mesmerized by waves that froth and curl, and then ease themselves ashore?

When’s the last time you saw a seagull take wing,

or spied a honeybee, humming a song about sunshine as it collects pollen?

Do you remember the last time you heard the ocean’s lullaby,

felt it ease the wrinkles from your worried brow?

(Did you figure it out already? This week’s art challenge prompt is the word CALM.)

Want to see more? My responses to previous challenges are available here.

Beyond Land and Ocean: Hope carries music on her wings

October 1, 2015 by Melodye Shore

I’m excited to share the small but personally meaningful role I played in Pacific Symphany’s eagerly anticipated Beyond Land and Ocean.

In creating this musical homage to Orange County, Composer-in-Residence Narong Prangcharoen drew inspiration from personal encounters with our region’s landscapes and people. He also invited local residents to submit artistic responses to two key questions: What makes Orange County home, and what unites its people?

Image courtesy of Pacific Symphony Orchestra

As the project moved from creative vision to musical composition (a process chronicled here), Prangcharoen harmonized his personal impressions with community members’ input, including mine. The resulting piece makes its world premiere at Orange County’s Segerstrom Concert Hall on Sunday, October 4th.

If you guessed that I wrote a piece about hummingbirds, you’d be right. My submission is featured on the OC in Unison project website, alongside a photograph of Hope. Want to see an excerpt? Click and scroll to the second story from the top.)

Hope, that thing with feathers, is carrying music on her wings.

Want to know more about Hope and ‘my’ backyard hummingbird brood? Click here.

The red, red robin comes bob bob bobbin’ along

September 2, 2015 by Melodye Shore

American Robin

At the confluence of serendipity & symbolism sits this red-breasted beauty. He appeared in my backyard for the first time yesterday, a dandelion wish finally realized.

I’d search the skies above our new home for more than a year, believed beyond reason that our backyard would one day be graced by a robin’s cheerful song. And just before sunset, without advance warning or fanfare, hope perched its chubby self on my back fence.

He foraged in my flowerbed, splashed in the birdbath, and surveyed the hillside beyond our fence before flying home to his own nest. I’m hoping he’ll return, but even if he doesn’t, I’m over-the-moon happy about this visit.

Blog title courtesy of Dean Martin.

Loosening the string on your kite

August 30, 2015 by Melodye Shore

You will find truth more quickly through delight than gravity. Let out a little more string on your kite. —Alan Cohen

Yesterday’s highlights: A last-vestiges-of-summer picnic, and a kite that danced in the shimmery clouds at sunset.

This, at the tail end of a decades-long genealogical search that came to a sudden, dark conclusion. The shadow’s reach is long. But it’s all for the good, because when secrets are exposed to sunlight, their gravitational hold is lifted and the healing process begins.

Day 30 of the ‪#‎AugustBreak2015‬ photography challenge. Today’s prompt is smile. It’s out of sequence, because…vacation! I’ll upload my retrospective snaps to a single post, before this month is over.

Hummingbirds as Talismans

August 10, 2015 by Melodye Shore

Anna’s Hummingbird, male

Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. Hummingbirds open our eyes to the wonder of the world and inspire us to open our hearts to loved ones and friends. Like a hummingbird, we aspire to hover and to savor each moment as it passes, embrace all that life has to offer and to celebrate the joy of everyday. The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life’s sweetest creation. —Papyrus

It’s difficult to capture their shimmery wings in flight; harder, still, to frame their magical essence. But when handed the challenge word talisman, hummingbirds came instantly to mind. Take a look at the word cloud to the right of my blog entries–it’s among the most prominent topics of conversation here, by far!

I snapped this photo at a backyard BBQ, last night. It’s not my best hummingbird image to-date, but the wonderful thing about creative challenges is they encourage you to work with what you have, instead of chasing down that elusive (if not impossible) thing we call perfection. (#AugustBreak2015, Day 10)

Of Roots and Wings, Poetry and Birds

June 27, 2015 by Melodye Shore

My friend Jeannine Atkins surprised me with a beautiful book just recently: The Poet’s Guide to the Birds.

We share an affinity for winged creatures, Jeannine and I. We swoon over beautiful writing.

Jeannine pens gorgeous stories-in-verse. Borrowed Names, for instance, is at once accessible and relatable. But truth be told, I’m as flinchy about most poetic forms as this hooded oriole is camera shy.

He allows me to take his picture through the sliding glass door. And I approach poetry sideways. I pore over the words, one at a time, search line breaks and punctuation marks for the keys to understanding.

It’s a subtle nudge, this book, in that the subject matter keeps bringing me back to the page. I’m learning to find my song within even the most obscure lyrics, to feel the pulse of this poetry in a way that resonates most with me.

Just yesterday, this hooded oriole posed for a long while on our backyard feeder. I watched it intently. Such a standout, with that glossy beak and sunshine-y feathers! You’d never guess its shyness, given those bold, bright colors.

Coincidentally, I’d just finished reading Patricia Kirkpatrick’s “Orioles,” a short poem about an ancient garden from which an orange and black tulip yearns to escape its rooted existence. As you might’ve surmised, the tulip takes wing and returns as an oriole.

The color orange suggests a Baltimore oriole, but I understood this creation story anyway. And as synchronicity would have it, the poem forged an even deeper connection to my friend Jeannine, for whom tulips are a favorite flower.

Roots and wings. Gardens and floral arrangements. This is how I’m grounding myself in poetry these days.