Within My Reach...I Am Responsible

I found this quote the other day …
”The great fault of all ethics hitherto has been that they believed themselves to have to deal only with the relations of man to man. In reality, however, the question is, what is his attitude to the world and all life that comes within his reach. A man is ethical only when life, as such, is sacred to him, that of plants and animals as that of his fellow men, and when he devotes himself helpfully to all life that is in need of help.” -Albert Schweitizer


I am more than confident that Mr. Schweitizer’s profound statement regarding man’s ethical behavior spoke directly to current dilemmas and global issues in the scientific community and the world of his day, and not my backyard. However, the spirit of his message remains true today, it continues to speak with great clarity to the needs of our planet, and our vanishing natural resources… just think…regard wildlife and their natural environment with the same fair, decent, principled behavior as you would the folks who live next door (wow, don’t disrespect their home and property)…what a concept… and help them when they are in need…outstanding, sounds a bit like don’t look the other way to me.


I have probably read this quote a hundred times since I first found it. At each reading I discover a new twist. At this writing, it’s not saying that we are responsible to save the entire planet on our own, it is simply offering up a challenge to help “those within our reach”, treat the wild things whose world we have taken over with the same respect, compassion and kindness as we would our human counterparts.

Thank God, there are many courageous individuals who practice such ethical behavior and work fearlessly to protect our wildlife and restore the environment. The reality is that each of us in our own way, in our own space, has the ability to make a positive impact…you know, it’s often called the right stuff. For those who do not care or continue to destroy…the shame is yours. I am stepping down now, from the soapbox, that is, but, only for a short while.

Now, with all that said…the weather here has turned cold very quickly this year, much colder than normal, and as I watch the seed and nuts disappear daily, I am reminded that it was I, who encouraged these creatures to share our habitat. By allowing them to come and go freely without fear, they have identified a safe haven, and in whatever wild way they are able, have given their trust in return. Without reservation…or exception, it is my responsibility to respect the bond that now exists, and do nothing to betray them. I was the one who offered food, water, shelter and safety from human harm. They did not ask, I invited them. I truly believe that somewhere deep within our being exists “our wildself”, the self that soars with eagles, or runs like the wind with wild horses. When we allow ourselves to live in harmony with nature, we are ensuring that our own spirit “live free”. Winter is coming, take care of those trusting ones that dare give you a glimpse into their world, provide for their needs, celebrate their visits, and let your “wild self” ride moonbeams to the stars.

I love this blog, my own personal soapbox venue, always available, ready to go at a moments notice, and for all intent and purpose, a platform for whatever strikes my fancy at the moment. Sometimes funny…sometimes serious…and then, other times, even worthwhile.

For within my reach, I am responsible. Regards, Sandy

The Masterworks of Our Time

Vincent Van Gogh said, "If you truly love nature, you see beauty in all things". I have reflected on this statement many times and often picture him, palette and brush in hand, standing in front of his easel and canvas, frantically laying down bold strokes of color in an attempt to capture just the right light and shadow patterns. As an artist, I am challenged to "capture nature", as students of nature, we are challenged "to set it free". Van Gogh was bold and aggressive in his style, and created with passion his visions of natural beauty, one masterpiece at a time. Each of us in our own way possesses the resolve and creativity to do the same. A bluebird house, filled with babies, a garden, without pesticides, filled with butterflies, a habitat, with water and shelter, filled with wildlife...these are truly the masterworks of our time.

If I Could Take You with Me
If I could take you with me on a daydream… you would see
the wonder and the magic that sets our spirit free

We’d waltz among the daisies, take our leave upon the breeze
to woodlands now enchanted, by the changing of the leaves

On morning sunshine journey to a place of sparkling streams
join a golden eagle soaring, past a cloud that’s filled with dreams

With a seahorse for our stallion, we’d ride moonbeams to the stars
scatter stardust from our pockets, through a kingdom, truly ours

and snuggle, in a nest of baby bluebirds as they sleep
take comfort in their beating hearts, as love, their cradle keeps

A speck of time is all we have… we’re not allowed to stay,
just treasure life in moments sweet, that take our breathe away.

If I could take you with me on a daydream…you would see
-S. Allen McKenney 2008

A speck of time is really all we have as we are challenged by nature itself to nurture, protect, preserve and restore in any way that we are able. It is we who are captured...every time we see our reflection in the eyes of a wild one. If you dare to look deeply... you will be forever changed.

I hope that in some small way, you will feel challenged to create your own masterwork, no matter how large or small, inspired to pass the challenge along and delighted by every new experience you enjoy as you take your personal walk with nature. Regards, Sandy

Want to know more about creating a Wildlife Habitat? http://www.nwf.com/

Interested in garden for wildlife? http://www.bhgnaturesgarden.com/

A Hummingbird Tale From Maya Indian Folklore

Why are Hummingbirds, so small, so beautiful and so different from other birds?

From a tale told by the Maya Indians of southern Mexico, Yucatan, Guatemala, Belize, Honduras:

Long ago when the world was not quite finished, the Maya Great God looked around the sacred place where he had been making the different kinds of birds. He had made birds of every sort and size, each one good in its own way, and now he thought the making of birds was finished.

But just then he spied a few scraps of grayish feathers, a long thin beak, some tiny bits of bone and muscles and such that had not been used. He could not bear to waste even these small scraps, and so he took them in his hands gently, joining this to that to form the birdshape, and adding the
long beak last of all. Then he gave this new small bird the gift of life.

It fluttered its tiny wings, opened its bright black eyes and looked up at its maker. And the Great God smiled down, thinking how small it was, how very small. Smaller than any other bird he had ever made. Even with that long beak it measured no more than the length of a man's thumb!

The Great God frowned, wondering if a shorter beak would have been better, but then shook his head. This small one was designed to feed on the nectar of flowers--good food that no other birds could reach easily--and a long beak was needed. And so was a long tongue that could reach out even beyond the beak tip to flick off bits of yellow pollen dust for added nourishment and to aid in catching insects buried in a flower cup or flitting past in mid-air.

To gather such food, the small one needed unusual flying skills, as well as the long bill and tongue. So the Great God made sure it could fly forward or backward, straight up or straight down, on a zigzag, or even upside down for a quick turnabout, and he also gave it the ability to hover almost endlessly in mid-air. Oh, yes! What this small one lacked in size, it more than made up for in talents.

With an upward toss of his hand, the god sent it flying off to find its place in the world. For a moment it hovered there, just above his fingertips, the wings whirring so fast that the air passing through the feathers played a little humming tune that sounded like `dzu-nu-ume, dzu-nu-ume!' The Great God smiled to hear it, for he knew the Mayas would call this smallest one Dzunuume, `The Hummer.'

Of course the Great God knew one bird of a kind is not enough. Every creature has to have its mate. He called on his magic powers and before him were more grayish feathers and tiny bones and a long beak, just like the ones he had used before. He put them all together in the same way and gave this new little bird the gift of life, too, so that Dzunuume would have his mate. Then he told the two of them to make this their wedding day and live happily ever after. And off he went to attend to other matters.

Some birds who had been lingering nearby heard the word "wedding" and came fluttering down eager to see the bride and groom and have a part in the celebration. First a sweet-voiced Solitare Thrush offered to sing its flute-like song for their wedding music. Then a gentle breeze came along and began to shake down fragrant flower petals for a carpet. Bright-winged butterflies gathered in a dancing circle to mark out the room. Even some spiders wanted to help and began spinning their most delicate webs to decorate the bridal pathway, telling the bride that she could use them afterward to build her nest. And the great sun overhead held himself ready to send down his rays for a blessing.

"Oh, everything will be so beautiful!" chirped a little brown-streaked House Finch with cap and throat as red as chili peppers. "Everything beautiful for a beautiful bride and a handsome groom. The most beau-" And then he stopped short, as if he wished he could swallow his tongue or take back the words. For Dzunuume and his little mate were not beautiful. Not in the least. Their feathers were a dull, drab gray. No pretty colors at all.

The House Finch looked around at the other birds and the other birds looked back at him, all very much concerned. Something had to be done. Somehow these two small gray ones had to be made beautiful.

The long-tailed Quetzal bird, the most splendid bird in all Maya land, was the first to speak. "Please help yourselves to some of my feathers," he offered, spreading his long green tail plumes.

"And take some of mine, please," called a Violet-green Swallow, skimming low enough for them to pluck the pearl-white feathers from her breast. The kind offers were accepted the moment they were made. In a trice the bride and groom were feathered in glistening green and white.

"Now you need some of my red feathers for a scarf," exclaimed the House Finch. He promptly gave so many red feathers to Dzunuume that he could spare only one or two for the little bride.
Before anyone else could add any other colors, the sun came out from behind a cloud where he had been waiting impatiently and pronounced the two little green-coats married forever and always. For a blessing he sent down his most dazzling rays straight to little Dzunuume's throat, making the red scarf feathers flash red and gold like a leaping flame.

"Oh-h-h! Ah-h-h!" cried the birds and butterflies and spiders and the breeze together in wonder. And then another dazzling ray made the green feathers on each small back shine like polished jade.

"Oh-h-h! Ah-h-h!" they all cried again. And then they heard the voice of the sun making a solemn promise.

"The feathers of all hummingbirds will always gleam with this fire-and-jade magic," he said, "so long as they look toward me, face to face. But whenever they turn away from the light, their feathers will darken again to remind them of the gray feathers they first wore-and would still wear if it were not for the unselfish gifts of their new friends."

And so it was on that day when the world was young, and so it has been ever since. When the Great God saw how beautiful these first humming-birds had become, he made other tiny long-billed hummers with radiant hues, giving their feathers all the shining colors of the rainbow, every tint and shade and mixture of red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple. He asked the sun to give each one his magic fire-and-jewel blessing, and the sun did so gladly. To this day, whenever hummingbirds turn away from the sun's light, some of their shining feathers darken to drab, like fire turning to ashes.

I found this wonderful tale while visiting http://www.hummingbirds.net/, I thought it so charming, that I wanted to make it my first blog entry. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I did.