Wish to talk about that awesome hike you went on? Or that time you came face to face with a ten point buck? Or just to tell the world about your relaxing walk in the park? Go on, share your experiences with the natural world, we'd love to hear about them.
One of the most memorable times I've spent in nature was a few summers ago when I was working as a bat biologist for a wildlife refuge in the middle of nowhere. To picture it, I lived alone all summer in a cabin built on the edge of a river that ran out from the mouth of a cave and through a forest. The air was heavy and thick. It was magical in and of itself.
One day, during the transition to spring from winter, we had to go into the cave in order to find bats that were hibernating still and count them. We entered the cave and slowly felt our way along the sharp cold rocks until we came to the mouth of a passage. I felt very frightened, groping my way in the dark along unforgiving edges. The passage before us was very small, and it was at this moment I learned we would be having to crawl on our bellies along the dirt to get to where we needed to go. The skin on my neck stood up and I felt absolutely terrified.
I began the crawl in the dark. Mud gathered in my hair and on my face, as the ground was wet. I pulled myself forward using only my arms, occassionally having to stop to take a breath. We kept the lights off in order to conserve batteries, so I had no visual idea of what was around me. I could only sense the feeling of the cave: the cold, chilly air that moved as though it were breathing, the wet sensation of the rocks above and below me, etc.
After what felt like an eternity, I popped into the cavern we had been looking for. I could feel that the ceiling wasn't incredibly high, enough that I could sit cross-legged and touch it. I turned on the light... and what I saw was incredible. In front of me were hundreds of hibernating bats, hanging from the ceiling. Due to their body heat, each one had collected condensation over the winter that had frozen into droplets that looked like glistening jewels. My light reflected off of the condensation, dazzling me as it appeared like diamonds lining the entire cavern. It was absolutely beautiful. I sat and just stared for what felt like an eternity. All the "scary" feelings I had about the cave disappeared in that instance.
One of the first wildlife jobs I ever held was that of a volunteer/intern on a team that researched salmon habitat conservation. I traveled to many places, from islands in British Columbia to waterfalls in Oregon's valleys, getting to work hands on to rebuild streams and important breeding grounds for salmon. I admired salmon greatly for their deep connection to the world around them. Salmon are born in a stream, where they grow and feed off the lands nutrients. They eventually come of age, and migrate out to the sea- where they spend many years exploring and growing up. When it comes time for them to reproduce, they have a sudden "call" to return home. These same salmon will track down the original streams they were born in, sometimes having to swim hundreds of miles to reach their home. They do this journey without eating or otherwise stopping to care for themselves. Once home, they reproduce and then die- their carcasses being given back to the land that supported them as they were born and feeding the lives of their young ones. It's an amazing cycle of birth and death.
There was one moment in particular that left me awe-struck. In British Columbia, I had been dropped off at the mouth of a stream that originated deep in the woods and met the ocean at its mouth. My job was to float face-down in the water (while wearing a scuba suit and the proper equipment) and count every salmon I passed so that I could have a rough estimate by the end of how many salmon had returned to this particular stream. I floated, feeling light and weightless, staring at the busy scene beneath me. There were hundreds of salmon bustling about their business. Some had grouped together, building nests within the gravel of the bottom of the stream. Some were flashing courting displays, glistening bright hues of reds and greens and other mating colors. You could tell which salmon were close to death, as their bodies were torn and almost seemingly falling apart. Yet they all vibrantly splashed and procreated- working to achieve life.
I became almost hypnotized, floating for what felt like an eternity as I stared at all the activity. As I was staring downward, I felt the water greatly surge around me and a large black shape fly beneath me- right under my nose. It happened again, then a third time. I focused my eyes, peering through the water, and was only a foot or two away from the face of a sea lion. I had never seen one in the wild, so I was immediately taken aback. The seals had followed the salmon upstream from the ocean and were chasing them about- eating the ones too slow to escape. I watched first hand, from what I'm sure was an unsafe distance, as the salmon and seals darted around.
I thought it was an incredible scene, one I'm sure to never see again in my life.
This is one of my favorite memories from when I was very little. My family used to own a fairly big speed boat because we lived in the Outer Banks/OBX in the summer and we used to sometimes take trips to a little Island near there where we ate lunch and spent the rest of the day just hanging around there. On the way back from the island though, around sunset, dolphins would jump and dive back into the water in the boat's wake. I remember the dolphins so vividly, they would come so close! We would occasionly stop the boat and the dolphins sometimes bobbed their heads up from the water and we could touch them (now that I know that wild dolphins sometimes kill and rape humans it was probably not the smartest idea, but it was really cool. I loved those boat trips, but when my siblings and I got older we couldn't spend whole summers there so we sold the boat.
I have always loved and felt connected to trees. And when I was little I used to climb to the very top tops of the trees in my front yard and there was a split in the tree, where I would sit, that made a v shape. The tree made a perfect chair for me and I thought that this tree had purposely grown that way for me. I sat there almost every day and sang songs that I heard on the radio or slept (yup dangerous I know) and felt very connected to that particular tree. I could see a face in the lines on the trunk of the tree and believed that this tree was alive ( I knew that plants were living, but I mean like people but just were still and silent). I love that tree so much, but unfortunately don't climb it that often anymore because that tree has a very soft wood that breaks easily. Currently, since I love trees, I started the hobby of taking are of bonsai trees.
Another experience of mine happened in the Grand Caymans. There we went to a sandbar in the ocean called stingray city (if you searched it it would probably show up) and we got to touch and hold these giant peaceful stingrays. I loved seeing those animals and I really loved knowing they were nice and wouldn't hurt me.
Those are some neat experiences, Helios. Did you like touching the stingrays? I see them a lot where I live. They come up into the waters around here to breed, so during the summer you have to be careful when playing in the water (and avoid stepping on them). I call them "flap-flaps" and also "nature's pancake".
Yes it was very cool. I thought they were going to be slimy, but they were just really slick and squishy. Those are pretty funny names, especially nature's pancake. I love stingrays (even though they scare me a bit) so I think that's really cool that you live so close to a place where they go.
I was climbing up the side of my hill in Montana (a hill there is what I thought was a mountain because it was so big). Anyway, it was in the middle of winter, snow went up to my knees, and I was fully equipped with my snow gear. I scaled up the side of a small cliff to get to the massive hill on the other side. The wind was particularly brutal that day and my nose felt the worst of it.
The trip required me to walk another mile to get to the path that winds up the opposite hill. The ice coated the path making the way very slippery. Eventually, I reached a flat area that stretched for at least 50 meters. I stop to make a small fire and regain my energy.
The next thing I know, I hear a soft thumping sound. Then this white cloud appears about 25 meters away. About 12 deer with a buck in the lead charge from somewhere I couldn't see. Next comes the howling. Wolves appear on top of a ridge overlook the area the deer were running from. They give chase.
I hunkered down just to be safe. But, it was one of the coolest thing I've ever seen.
Went to the beach lately and was in awe with what I saw. Many Portugese Man o Wars had washed up along the shore. They happen to be my favorite invertebrate, so I was mystified. If you've never seen them, they are incredibly beautiful creatures.
Walking my dogs outside when I saw a cluster of palm trees. I normally avoid such things, as snakes can actually climb up them (miraculous, I know). However, as I approached today, I saw a dead rat laying at the base of one. As an avid collector of bones and animal bits, I was pleasantly surprised. The recent rain had completely cleaned the skeleton, for the most part, and all the meat and fur had washed away. The skull was perfectly preserved and so I took it home, cleaned it and am now debating how to use it.
