Tohickon

Reflections – ND #128

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Photo: L. Weikel

Reflections

There’s something about photos of reflections that captivates my imagination. It’s almost like playing the game of whisper down the alley. No, that might not be it. Perhaps it’s akin to looking at a scene through old-fashioned European rolled glass; the kind that’s sometimes used in stained glass projects.

I’ve taken a few photos of reflections that I could sit and stare at for hours. Sometimes the water appears totally calm, yet the shift in the whole texture of the reflection makes it obvious that there’s movement we might otherwise miss.

I love this – Photo: L. Weikel

The photo just above is one of those that I could stare at and lose myself within. There’s something about it – I think it exudes the vibration of a watercolor. Or maybe some kind of textured painting? Not being an artist nor having any education in the field, I will confess to knowing nothing of which I speak, other than what I feel when I look at these photos.

This captivates me every time – Photo: L. Weikel

Two other photos – reflections off the surface of the Tohickon (as opposed to a big puddle) – also spring to mind. I captured them in this post (but have included one of them above).

There’s a peace, a calm, that I feel emanating from them. There’s also an aliveness conveyed that feels almost more juicy – or is it ethereal? – than the objects themselves.

Perspective on the Reflection – Photo: L. Weikel

(T+128)

Neighborly Collaboration – ND #85

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Not the ones that were chased last night – Photo: L. Weikel

Neighborly Collaboration

During our walk yesterday, Karl and I had a chance to engage in some neighborly collaboration. Actually, we ended up working like a well-oiled machine. We impressed ourselves.

It all began when a large pick-up truck approached us just as we were setting off on our late afternoon sojourn. The truck, headlights inexplicably on high beam, slowed significantly as it pulled up next to us. The passenger side window was already rolled down and a young boy of about 8 years old looked out at us. A girl of about 13, presumably the boy’s older sister, was in the back seat, with her window rolled down about halfway.

“Have you heard any dogs in the last few minutes?” the driver asked, leaning toward us from the driver’s side.

“Other than the wolfhounds?” I laughed, gesturing ahead of us. We could all hear the wolfhounds barking and baying only yards away where we were now.

“Yeah – no,” he replied. “Beagles. We have two Beagle pups who took off. We’ve been searching for them for a couple hours now.”

Ugh. How awful. We cringed at the thought of losing Brutie and Pacha.

Contingency Plan

While we hadn’t heard anything out of the ordinary or noticed any ‘loose pups’ on the prowl (so far), I wrote down the dad’s phone number just in case.

To be honest, we almost forgot about the loose puppies. We saw and, more importantly, heard no evidence of any Beagles. Pushing forward, turning right, up a big hill, we walked at least a mile before a herd of deer suddenly started tearing across a field to our right. We stopped. Cocked our heads. “BOW, bow, bow,” the plaintive cry of a Beagle, albeit muffled by the clatter of hooves tearing up clods of dirt, could be heard.

We strained to see what was going on, where the deer were headed. The deer were clearly confused and in disarray, running this way and that. We worried the pup would cross the road in front of us and herd the deer – and him or herself – right off the High Rock cliffs to our left, plunging them into the Tohickon.

Meanwhile, I fumbled to call the pup’s “Dad” to let him know at least one was here. I’d written his number down on the notepad of my phone – not input it directly into my phone. (I really didn’t think we’d encounter the pups. Just goes to show you!) I eventually managed to get through and described where we were. He said he’d come as fast as he could.

The Hunt

No sooner did I hang up but the deer and dog disappeared into a forest in the far distance to our right, across a golden field. In what seemed like an eternity but was probably only five minutes or so, if that, the dad and kids showed him up. As they pulled up alongside of us, we could see (and hear) a beagle in the back seat bouncing around with the sister.

“Did you find one of them already?” Karl asked.

“Yup. This other one has been a devil to catch,” the Dad tried to grin, referring to the Deer Chaser still on the loose.

“Well, he took off that way,” and I pointed ahead and across a vast field.

After saying thanks again, they drove ahead, chasing the elusive Spade. Or was it Rip?

We ended up texting back and forth over a span of an additional 10 or 15 minutes, as the little devil tore back and forth over a span of probably six or eight vast fields and tracts of woods. We co-located them using the home of the wolfhounds as a reference point, for they were directly northwest of us ‘as the crow flies.’

Yep. I literally used that expression when texting the dad.

Success!

By this time, the sun had completely set and it was nearly dark. The pick-up truck doubled back and rolled down their windows.

“Got ‘em! Thanks so much for all your help!”

Karl and I cheered. It felt great to help a neighbor out. We were sure they’d have a better night now that their pups had been found. Neighborly collaboration. Guess we’re seeing that both locally and globally.

(T+85)

Coyotes – ND #60

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Not coyote bait tonight (Cletus) – Photo: L. Weikel

Coyotes

Just the other day, Karl and I marveled at the number of times random people brought up coyotes in casual conversation lately. Seriously. And the references have been eerily similar: “Watch your small animals. Coyotes are close.”

If we were in Arizona or New Mexico it would be one thing. But here we are, living in a suburb, if rural, (is there even such a thing as a rural suburb?) of Philadelphia.

When I was growing up, we never heard coyotes. I’m pretty sure they didn’t live in Pennsylvania – or if they did, I’m virtually certain they didn’t live in eastern PA. I distinctly remember being in my 30s before hearing my first coyotes, and we were in New Mexico at the time.

Probably wouldn’t mind a snack, but not a scratchy one

Things Change

Luckily for coyotes, like eagles and hawks, they seem to be making a huge resurgence into our area. This brief video report states that they’re now located in all 67 counties of the commonwealth. And a bit unsettlingly, it sounds like the coyotes that migrated here from out west over the years engaged in some ‘layovers’ (and illicit dalliances) with wolves along the way. Genetically speaking, at least some of the coyotes that are establishing populations here in Pennsylvania are part wolf, too.

I first mentioned coyotes in this post, back in 2019. And I’ve occasionally encountered them howling in the distance while out stargazing.

But over the past several weeks, mostly since the new year, we’ve heard their eerie howls echoing off the steep cliffs lining the Tohickon at least half a dozen times. One time was particularly humorous, because they were echoing and mimicking the wail of the firehouse siren a few miles away.

Coyote – Photo: Wikipedia

 

Past Two Weeks

But over the past two weeks, we’ve had at least four conversations with neighbors or hunters in the area. Everyone is starting to notice them.

Karl and I thought it seemed a bit over the top to hear people warn us to be careful of our animals. They made their comments with knowing glances toward the pups. I have to admit, I couldn’t imagine a coyote threatening Pacha or Brutus. Why would they go after them when there are so many deer and other wild animals around? Game that’s not attached by a long cord to a human seems a lot more desirable.

But you know what? Karl just came inside after taking Brutus out for a quick refresher. When he came in, he looked spooked. He heard coyotes in the field quite close, he said. They were howling and carrying on.

And while the ‘call of the wild’ didn’t seem to perturb Brutus in the least, we both decided to keep Cletus inside tonight. There’ve been too many random people telling us to protect our babies to turn a deaf ear to the warnings.

Weird.

(T+60)

Two Amazing Sightings – Day 953

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Not the One From Today – Photo: L. Weikel

Two Amazing Sightings

I experienced two amazing sightings today – and I’m chagrined to admit I have not a single photo to prove either one of them took place. It makes me want to cry.

The first one occurred while I was sitting outside on my porch having a conversation with a client. I was lost in thought, focused on my client’s side of the conversation. I was barely aware of what was in front of my face.

Suddenly, bursting into my awareness like a shot from across the road, a burnt orange splash of fur tears toward me from across the road, traverses my driveway, and streaks into my neighbors’ back yard. I’m sure the coincidence of their chicken coop in the back yard had nothing to do with the direction this sniper was headed.

Totally Different

Today’s Foxy encounter was substantially different than the one I had with the adorable little kit pictured above. (I may not have been quick enough to get a photo of the teenager I saw today, but it is a good excuse to post kit’s photo again.) That time, the cutie seemed oblivious to me as it meandered unselfconsciously near the culvert at the side of the road.

It was as if the fox that crossed my path today was fired out of a cannon. It streaked across my field of vision, tail straight out behind it. For once, I had a momentary (extremely momentary) appreciation for the excitement of fox hunting. (Seriously – I loathe this so-called sport.) But watching this sleak, gorgeous animal hurdle seamlessly over obstacles and run with such adroit finesse and speed, I could see why trying to catch one is so difficult. It doesn’t excuse it; but it sort of helps me understand why it might be considered a challenge to outsmart one.

Also Not the One From Today – Photo: L. Weikel

Number Two

The second sighting I made today was of an Eagle. The Bald Eagle I saw flying up the Tohickon Creek was just a little bit above eye level with me. The nonchalance of its power and dominion over the wildlife on the Tohickon was stunning. This raptor has nothing to prove to anyone.

The slow, audible flap of its wings was the antithesis of desperation – or even of hunger. I got the distinct sense that the Blue Jays losing their minds as it flew past their nests were screeching from painful past experience. Lucky for them, neither petite Blue Jay tartare nor Blue Jay omelettes were on the menu.

Come Back

At least in our area, it’s obvious the Bald Eagle population is making a comeback, which is outstanding. But I have to admit – no matter how pedestrian an Eagle sighting may become due to the success of conservation efforts, it will always be an utterly thrilling experience for me.

An Eagle sighting, to me, represents the potential for contact with the Divine. Eagle feathers are treasured spiritual tools for native North Americans. They are a direct connection with Great Spirit.

And honestly? I remember when they were endangered. I was 31 years old and all the way up in Maine before I even caught a glimpse of an Eagle for the first time – and even then, I barely saw some tail feathers. Nevertheless, the experience will remain a treasure in my heart forever. A girl never forgets her first Eagle.

Who knew I’d be so lucky when I was twice that age to have them virtually in my own back yard. It feels absolutely miraculous.

(T-158)

No Lamb Today – Day 841

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Wild Afternoon Sky – Photo: L. Weikel

No Lamb Today

Without even going outside this morning, I could hear the runoff of melted snow coursing along the side of our road. Water rushed through a tunnel of compacted snow, amplifying the sound of its frenzied quest to join either the Tohickon or the Delaware, whichever was quickest and easiest to access. The sky was gray but the air was mild, content to simply do the job of melting winter’s whites. I truly thought I had this ‘first day’ pegged; but alas, March was no lamb today.

Oh sure, every once in a while the sun tried to push through and shake things up, but it was a heavy lift. The day just felt sort of blah.

Only when I had to run out to the post office in the late afternoon did I start rethinking my assessment. Snarling clouds were building in the west and I sensed a growing energy that felt distinctly leonine. I stopped by the creek to pay my respects and everything just felt dismal and swollen.

Swollen Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

 

Overflowing her banks – Photo: L. Weikel

Transformation

An hour later, Karl and I were heading out with Spartacus. The weather transformed before our very eyes. There was the barest hint that change was coming as we rounded the first corner. Those dark billowing layers of slate gray clouds had almost magically given way to a speckled sky of marshmallow puffs.

The longer we walked, the more dramatically everything shifted. Another mile under our belts and overhead the puffs poofed and their background of blue became the main event.

As we crested the final hill, the power behind the shift made itself known. We kept looking behind ourselves, thinking the whooshing sound we heard was an approaching car. But no, it was the wind, and that wind started buffeting us, moving us along, and most definitely ‘blowing the dust off’ our attitudes.

Speckled Sky of Puffs – Photo: L. Weikel

This Evening

As I sit here writing the title of this post, ‘No Lamb Today,’ the catalyzing wind has only become wilder and is making our normally melodious wind chimes clang vociferously. (I should probably bring them in.)  The lights have dimmed at least four times this evening, but we’ve mercifully been spared a complete loss of electricity. So far, anyway. It’s a wonder.

At the moment, it feels like the wind is angry and determined to root out and whisk away anything that isn’t grounded and in it for the long haul. Its roar is unmistakably declaring that March 2021 is coming in like a lion.

May it clear away the Covid! Help us all start fresh. It’s a new month – a month of new growth, of hope, of life returning to the surface of our consciousness. The month that brings us spring.

All in the span of two hours – Photo: L. Weikel

(T-270)

What a Moon – Day 839

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Magical Moon – 27 Feb 2021 – Photo: L. Weikel

What a Moon

Mmm mmm mmm. I’m so glad we made ourselves walk tonight! We’d missed our chance to walk during the bright, enticing, and totally unexpected sunshine. And by the time the opportunity to walk arose, we were more inclined to hunker down with some stuffed shells, a big salad, and the tv clicker. But no. We pushed ourselves. And oh baby, what a moon awaited.

Quite honestly, sometimes 90% of the effort it takes to take a walk some days is mustering the effort to get our stuff on (including Spart’s coat and harness) and walk out the door. Getting out the door. Who knew that would be our biggest accomplishment some days?

It’s true though. Even living in a drafty old house that’s not hermetically sealed off from the elements, we can still easily find ourselves totally out of touch with the true state of the elements. For instance, after dragging my heels over readying myself for a lap around the ‘walk about,’ I was exhilarated when I stepped onto the porch and took a deep breath of refreshingly cool – but not frigid – air.

Full Virgo Moon – Photo: L. Weikel

Anticipation

I’ll admit part of the impetus that got me out the door was the anticipation of seeing the full Virgo moon rise above the fields along our route. And she did not disappoint.

As we started out on our evening sojourn, all we could see was a bright glow in the eastern sky. A quarter of a mile into our journey, though… Bam! There she was.

And I must confess: I’m going to have to do some research to see if there’s a trick to help me sneak up on the moon when she rises so huge and pregnant with promise, for it seems no matter what I do or how I try, I can never replicate her magnificence. She either looks too bright and big (thus resembling the sun, which not only dishonors her tremendous reflective gifts but also conceals her lovely craters and landscape in flashy distraction) or she appears entirely too teeny tiny on the horizon. I cannot seem to find the perfect balance that does her justice.

Full Virgo Moon Rising – Photo: L. Weikel

 The Quest Continues

I know the temperatures today were mild and significant melting occurred. For one thing, the veritable mountain of sunflower seed shells underneath each of our feeders make it look like we were carpet bombed by bags of Agway seed.

But for all the melting going on elsewhere, the fields seem to be immune to the swarthy glances of the sun. In fact, the unmistakable sheen of a crisp coating of ice glistened on all the fields we passed. The moon’s countenance, of course, was the designated shimmer.

Moonbeams on Ice Field – Photo: L. Weikel

Silence Reigned

Once I exhausted my efforts to capture the magic of the moon tonight, I settled into the simple pleasure of just being, and walking, with Karl. After about a mile, we noticed how the only sound we heard was the rushing flow of the Tohickon far below the rocky cliffs along our route. No owls hooting. Not even the rustle of a single creature in the brush. Silence, broken only by the voice of the melting snow merging with the creek as it tumbles and whooshes toward its merger with the Lenape Sipu – the Delaware River.

Lovely.

(T-272)

No Escape – Day 795

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Tohickon Flow 14 Jan 21 – Photo: L. Weikel

No Escape

There’s so much stress swirling around all of us these days. It’s in the atmosphere, on the news, in the grocery store, on the Capitol steps. It’s bombarding us on our phones, in our homes, and definitely squeezing hospitals all across the country – and around the world. It seems there’s no escape.

But there is. It’s called Nature.

I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir here. Nevertheless. Even if I am, I’m going to repeat myself. Because no matter how vigilant we are about maintaining our balance or taking a break from the news, it can be all too easy to talk ourselves out of it in times like these. Taking a walk, watching the flow of a creek, or sitting on the porch for 15 minutes to watch the sunset can feel entirely inappropriate when viewed through the lens of how dire life can seem at the moment.

Case in Point

Over the weekend, when I wrote about how so many of us are feeling under pressure, Spartacus was also feeling the stress. The very same day my tooth broke, Spartacus woke up with an extreme flare-up of what’s commonly called ‘Cherry Eye.’ I describe it as extreme because he has occasionally sported a red bump in the corner of his eye before, but never was it so huge as it was on Sunday. It was extremely disconcerting to look at him. It almost felt as though he, too, had been feeling the pressure – and while I took my stress out on my tooth, he manifested his where his body was the weakest.

Even worse than how awful it looked was how sad he became. He was totally thrown off his game by losing most of the sight in his eye – and sadly, that’s how large the prolapse was. Even when he slept, his eye wasn’t closing. He barely sniffed at his food. We even took a walk, but in spite of the mild weather, his heart wasn’t in it.

I’m glad to report that the ointment they gave me for his eye worked wonders – even on the bulge as big as it was. He feels so much better now. (I’ll post an ‘after’ photo tomorrow – or soon, at least. I promise!)

Spart’s Cherry Eye – Photo: L. Weikel

Lost My Point

Ha ha – as I sit here, I swear, I’ve lost the point of where I was going with this post. I didn’t intend to write in such detail about Spartacus’s affliction, but there it is. I’ll share it, since it has a happy resolution. I didn’t want to write about it while we were going through it because it’s one thing to write about a broken tooth and quite another to write about your puppy (even if he is 12 years old) looking like he’s been in a war.

I didn’t want to bum any of us out any more than we were already feeling!

I Remember Now

I was writing about the simple joy of being in Nature and how essential it is for all of us to be reminded of that fact, especially as we face these intensely stressful times. I related the story about Spartacus because this afternoon, he and I were hanging out on the porch for a moment as I filled the birdfeeders, and I was filled with gratitude that he was feeling so much better and was shamelessly basking in the sun.

We’ve had a satisfying array of visitors to our feeders, and Karl’s trick of hanging chunks of Irish Spring soap to the feeders seems to have quelled the deer from draining the tubes each night. As I listened to the birds chirping and cheeping in the branches and bushes surrounding the porch, alerting all their friends and neighbors that the two legged was finally refilling the feeders and maybe even putting out some peanuts, I recalled an article I’d read recently about the impact of birdwatching on our happiness.

Just another example of how being in Nature is a balm to our souls.

In spite of all the anxiety we’re feeling over extremism in our lives and the possibility of more violence over the next several days, give yourselves the gift of appreciating the simple, natural, pleasures in life. The cardinals and chickadees. The squirrels and goldfinches. The puppy who can see again, scrounging up shelled peanuts that fall to the ground when you’re filling the peanut coil.

It’s the little things.

(T-316)

Wintry Mix – Day 433

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Icicles Near the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

Wintry Mix

Finally, some evidence of winter’s presence arrived in our lives today. Some good old-fashioned wintry mix and freezing temperatures served as a delightful reminder that we are, in fact, just past the middle of January.

Given my druthers, I’d welcome with even more enthusiasm a good dump of the white stuff, maybe 18” or so. You know – enough to easily justify hunkering down with a warm beverage, a captivating book, and oh, who knows? Maybe some guac, salsa, and chips?

Frozen Moment

Earlier this afternoon, I was on my way home, just about an hour or two after the snowflakes started flying. Of course, I was compelled to stop by the Tohickon to say hello and pay my respects.

It feels as though I’ve barely had a moment to savor the delights of my favorite place ‘to be’ in the world. Certainly not since the start of the year; and quite frankly, more accurately, not since the beginning of the fall. There’s been a lot of ‘busy, busy, busy,’ and not nearly enough ‘stop, take a breath, reflect, and allow’ taking place.

Cabin Run – Photo: L. Weikel

More Tomorrow?

Not necessarily more snow, freezing rain, ice, or even slush tomorrow. No. I mean that gift that we either indulged in receiving and relishing today or we didn’t. The gift of finding it wiser to stay home and hunker down rather than run around making busy work for ourselves.

Speaking of more tomorrow, I took the initiative and made a stew today. Spiced just right with lots of Cholula Sauce* and topped with mouth-watering cheese-infused biscuits, not only was this the perfect warm meal for a wintry mix day, but there’s also plenty to spare for tomorrow.

Perhaps leaving a little more time for that yearned-for stopping, breathing, reflection, and allowing?

Here’s hoping you, too, take some time to embrace the gifts January’s wintry mixes afford us. My sense is that we are wise to feed our bodies and souls now, for the wild ride is only just getting started.

Wintry Mix Stew – Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

(T-678)

I’m Parched – Day 316

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Reflected Balance on the Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

I’m Parched

I was going to write about the weather tonight. But brother, how boring.

And yet…with the rain arriving earlier this evening, it was as if I could feel the Earth opening up her mouth and just allowing the moisture falling from the clouds above to flow into the cracks that have been showing up in our lawn.

It feels like there’s a metaphor here – perhaps we will soon begin to witness a quenching of our collective thirst for action, for justice, and for a reckoning.

It makes me think about my comment to Karl as we were walking this evening. For no apparent or easily discernable reason, I felt bombarded by waves of anxiety. I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. It was hard to tell whether it was emanating from within or whether I was responding to ‘the outside world.’

An Upshift In Energy

I was taught a long time ago that on every seasonal shift of the year there’s an upshift of energy. Sometimes this can lead us into greater awareness; sometimes it can lead us into greater anxiety and agitation. Usually whatever way we shift is associated with how we’re feeling when we enter into the energies of the solstices or equinoxes.

I get the feeling that this particular Equinox’s energy upshift is having a profound effect on the world at large. So many ‘big’ things have been happening over this past weekend and even more is in the process of becoming ‘breaking’ news tonight, that it’s all becoming hard to ignore.

My sense is that this Autumn Equinox is attempting to pull us all together into a state of balance. That very well might result in some seismic shifts.

Are WE Balanced Within?

So even when course corrections are being made and the world is trembling beneath our very feet, it is important that we go within and pay attention to our inner landscape. Are we balanced within?

Sometimes, in order to come back into balance we need to first undergo great upheaval.

I get the feeling that in the days ahead we’re going to need to make an extra effort to find and maintain our balance and equanimity.

We can do this. We just need to remember Who We Are.

(T-795)

Stand Up for the Tohickon – Day 211

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Stand Up for the Tohickon

Since moving to Tinicum Township in March of 1985, there’s been a ‘place’ in nature, a central geological feature, that has coursed through my life and been the backdrop to some of my most cherished memories: the Tohickon Creek.

I’ve written about the Tohickon in my book, Owl Medicine. I’ve written about the Tohickon in a number of posts here in Ruffled Feathers (and as part of my 1111 Devotion).

My sons grew up playing in this creek, wading in it, skipping stones across it, discovering snakes and tadpoles and watching ducks and trout swim on and in it.

I’ve written more journal entries and sorted out more existential, marital, and familial dilemmas along its banks than anywhere else in the world.

In the course of my somewhat unique work as a shamanic practitioner, I’ve even journeyed to meet the spirit of the Tohickon and enlisted her assistance in some unique and specific circumstances.

I’ve also led Listening Retreats and other, even more in-depth, programs along her banks, encouraging all participants to open themselves to her ways and her wisdom.

Blue Heron on Tohickon – Photo: L. Weikel

A Brief History

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I’ve been under the misimpression that the Tohickon already enjoyed designation as an Exceptional Value (EV) stream under Pennsylvania Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) guidelines. Sadly, it does not.

Rather, there has a been a Petition filed with the Environmental Quality Board of the DEP by residents Marion and Neil Kyde on behalf of the Tinicum Conservancy requesting that the creek be upgraded to this designation that has been pending since September 19, 1995.

This pristine waterway, which flows into the Delaware River (which itself has fought hard to come back from near death), is now not only close to having its status upgrade petition denied, but even worse, is in peril of having its current status (as Cold Water Fishes, Migratory Fishes) downgraded.

You Can Take Action

I’d like to ask everyone reading this to please take action and weigh in on this monumental decision. Here is a link to an amazing organization, Delaware Riverkeeper, with easy links to making your voice and opinion known. There’s also a MUCH better explanation than I’ve just provided of what is at stake.

Our freshwater streams and aquifers must be protected. There is so much to lose – both tangible and intangible – if we don’t stand up for our environment NOW.

Please take a stand for my beloved Tohickon.

(T-900)