Today

I am, quite frankly, disgusted at the state of our country right now. I am even more flabbergasted that people who are intelligent, kind, and well-meaning are wandering back into the circle of history we have already walked, fought so vehemently against, emerged victorious but bloodied from, and grown from. Our growth is not just being stunted but smothered and stomped violently into the ground. 

I sit on my bed watching several 100 to maybe a 1000 people harass police lines in LA over ICE coming in to take "illegals." I'm sorry, but people are not 'illegal.' A person is not 'illegal.' This bothers me to no end! Especially here in "Mormon" country, where it is always "hate the sin but love the sinner." Okay, okay... how about "hate the illegality, but love the illegal"? Hmmm? What happened to "Love thy neighbor?" 

It is infuriating! What about the illegality of the companies that hire these immigrants for less than LEGAL wages?? And bring them here for just that purpose? Who is making these people pay for their illegal act? 

I answer my phone, hang up. I need to watch my grandkids because my son has been called in to go stand the line for protests in SLC. 

Please don't hurt my son. He is only doing the job he loves. He will protect you regardless of your status, your skin color, or the language you speak. His best friends are brown. 

I sit on my bed and watch the news (flipping to various channels) as our scientific communities are dismantled. You know, the ones that help find cures for cancer, and alzheimers, and work on experimental medicines for rare disorders and diseases that affect...wait, you don't know anyone with a rare disorder or disease? Are you sure? Hmm, well, my Grandson has one. Tag - you do now. 

You know what else will affect my family? The dismantling of the programs that are going to help him. His physical therapies, the programs for the blind and deaf (he is both, by the way), finding child care for a toddler with his conditions, because both of his parents have to work to afford healthcare that doesn't cover all of the needs he has - and did I mention he has a twin brother? Not to worry, his brother is "normal" but hey, what toddler needs any other healthcare or childcare or clothing or....

His Mother's job is working for a non-profit, which does what? Oh, yes, Cancer research. The research that government funding and grant money have started disappearing for. She says that the docs are concerned. The fundraising crew is working overtime. But you can only squeeze so much blood from a turnip. 

I sit on my bed and wonder where Congress is. Where is the judiciary? Where are the checks and balances? Why is nothing balancing? 

I sit on my bed and wonder why my duly elected representative here in Layton, when he posts and responds to things on "X," sounds like cat-fighting high school girls, sticking their toungues out at each other, making pouty lips, and using their best recall instead of actually thinking and coming up with original thought and doing something about the problem. 

I sit on my bed and read about hate, and genocide, and quiet whitewashing, and silent takeover...

And then, I stand up....

How great is your want?

How great is your want?

I've been reflecting, with some amount of dismay and horror, on the events of the past few days. The immigrant caravan that arrived at the US border to request asylum being refused entry as the border was shut down, then responding in panic as they felt their chances at a new life were going to be completely unattainable.

First, let me say this, I am no advocate of violence, however, I do understand the fear factor when you are so close and realize that something you want may suddenly be out of reach and out of your control. While I have never been denied something like my freedom, I have had physical limitations placed upon me that have completely denied my ability to do something that I have desperately wanted and desired. The frustration is infuriating. There is nothing you can do. Depression, meanness, hatred, jealousy, grief - all present; and all of these emotions for something not nearly as life-changing as obtaining a fresh chance at a new life away from oppression and grief that I'm sure most of us could never understand.

With all that said I try to understand, and maybe slightly comprehend, the lashing out, the rock throwing, the desperate dash for the border and the subsequent retaliation that came from that reaction.

As I was getting ready to go to work this morning I took a warm shower, washed my hair, used soap, shampoo, conditioner, a clean towel, put on clean clothes, used my blowdryer, and warmed my toes by my dog who had hunkered down in front of the heat vent next to me in the bathroom. I thought about those people who had given up perhaps this very same scenario to pursue a safer, better place. I almost felt ashamed to be doing what I was doing - just doing what I did every morning!

Then the parallel hit me:

I opened my tablet and looked through the pictures of Black Friday shoppers, shoving their way, pushing, running, to get what they wanted so badly. Where was the tear gas? Where was security? No, they were just allowed to run rough-shod over whomever to get to that ONE thing that they wanted - TV? Blue-ray? Gaming system? No one stopped them, no one denied them, they reached their goal (some of them) then paid and left the store. Wait...really? You had to BE THERE to get that one thing you wanted? You had to push and shove and work and maybe even run??

I opened my tablet and looked through the pictures of the immigrants on Sunday, shoving their way, pushing, running, to get what they wanted so badly. Tear gas. Security. They were not allowed to run rough-shod over the border to get to that ONE thing they wanted - freedom? Happiness? Quiet, violence-free life? They were stopped, denied, and none (that moment) reached their goal to apply for asylum and leave a horrible place behind. Wait...really? They have to BE THERE to get that one thing they want? They had to push and shove and work and maybe even run??

My stomach dropped  - there is nothing I can do but watch and hope that the law will be followed and those who come will be granted the time and ability to make application for the thing they want so much, so desperately that they would walk thousands of miles, leave behind everything they know and so many people that they love to obtain that one thing.

It makes black Friday a farce, a twisted parallel in my comfortable, white, middle-class, life.

Perhaps I am too sympathetic, but I would rather be accused of loving and desiring the well-being of others too much than being called out as one who denied someone in need. Why can't we all just follow the rules? Allow others to follow them - how is it our right to deny someone when they are only attempting to go through the process that has been laid out before them?

I do not have answers, I can't even come up with a good way to be of help - which is also incredibly frustrating! All I can do is ask for the same patience and fairness that I have been shown for most of my life. Avoid the violence, apply the law, alleviate suffering, allow for time, assure that all things will be done in fairness and love, accept the outcome and move forward.

So again I ask, how great is your want?

I learned

This is what I did yesterday afternoon, after Pre-ACT testing and before rehearsal.....

I learned how to pack a gunshot or stab wound with clotting gauze. Did you know they make a special gauze that has a clotting agent in it to help stop bleeding? I didn't, until yesterday.

I learned how to apply two different types of tourniquet to stop bleeding. The blue one is easier, it has velcro and something to actually twist.

I learned that blood bubbling from a chest wound probably means a lung puncture and to use the sticky pad to cover and seal it. Oh, don't forget to check the back, in case the bullet went all the way through -- and if there's too much blood for the pad to stick use your shirt to wipe the blood off - if you have nothing else.

I learned that 20 year veterans of the WJ FD/EMT can look and sound kind of callous when they're teaching this stuff.

I learned that wrapping an arm wound and not checking the rest of the body for other wounds doesn't do the patient a lot of good - I mean, if they're bleeding from the bullet hole in their groin wrapping the bullet hole on their arm isn't really going to save them.

I learned how concerned 20 year veterans of the WJ FD/EMT can look and sound when a call comes in and they have to go.

I learned that I won't have time to save everyone. If there is no pulse and they're not breathing they're dead, move on; even if it is one of your favorite students.

And then I got up this morning......and learned (again) why I learned what I did yesterday.

Eyes

Who is walking out today?

I want to.....

Eyes plead with me. Live eyes. Living eyes, eyes with expression and liquid that when it catches the light just right makes them shimmer. 

I won't mark you truant.

Eyes shine! Living, alive eyes.

Serious???

      Serious.

Eyes in color travel to the shirt sitting next to shining eyes...it reads,

"you want it, come get it"

The AR-15 in white screen print.

Eyes, intent, look panicked. Have you been stopped by security?

No.....

Eyes open, ripple, shocked!

They haven't made you change??

     I won't either.

Eyes flick to and fro and watch the clock.

tick...tick...tick....

10 am. 

     Eyes look around and walk.

10:17 am

     Eyes return....thinking.

Eyes...doubting.

What do you REALLY think, Ms. B? 

Eyes can't lie, not to them.

Eyes know honesty, fairness, truth. They gleam and shine and trust!

Eyes, in the quiet of my office, cry. 

Helpless

I'm not a senator. I'm not a representative. I'm not a lawyer. I'm not well connected.

I know musicians. I know teachers. I know teenagers. I know I feel incredibly helpless.

I feel like a dog whose owner rubbed the smell of my favorite treats over both their hands then clenched their hands tightly closed, as if there were something there, and then waves them in front of me egging me to get their hands open and when I do I find there is nothing there.

I stand looking at open hands, with no treat, still smelling something I desire with no concept of how to find and obtain it. It doesn't matter where I look, it only becomes more and more frustrating as the smell is strong. I pace, I whine, I stress, I shed, I whimper, I paw, I leave, I return....to no avail - nothing is changed.

How do the helpless help the helpless?

They will never know me. They will never know my desire. They will never know my longing. They will never see my tears on their behalf. They will never know my help because I don't know how. They will never bless me.

They will likely curse me.

Curse me; in my home. Safe. Warm. Dry. Fed. Clean. White. Middle-class. Educated. Children. Car. Health. Clothed. With excess.

Perfectly poised to be......helpless.

Rockin' life

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about rocks. 

Yep, rocks.

This probably stems from the fact that I’ve spent the last week riding around the desert southwest on the Colorado Plateau looking at, well….rocks.

Rocks seem to be something everyone wants to see.

Don’t believe me? 

How many visitors to the Grand Canyon are there every single year? And what are they looking at? A hole in the ground that the river carved through - rocks

              Bryce canyon, hoodoos = rocks

                  Arches national park, the Arch = rock

           City of Rocks preserve – um…yeah…rocks

When I was at the Grand Canyon I seldom heard the English language, most of the languages I heard were from Europe or Asia that said, what do Americans go to Europe and Asia to see? 

Castles, churches, walls, statues – 

       

all made of….....wait for it….ROCK!

When I was little I used to “collect” rocks. I’d go out in my backyard and sift through the dirt and sand and find what I felt were the most beautiful rocks ever seen! Most of them were granite or quartzite and they sparkled a little and had bumpy black flecks that made each piece unique.

Every little girl looks forward to that one special rock. Funny thing I found out, if you have to get rid of it the thing isn’t worth the paper its value is written on and getting rid of it is next to impossible.

It is possible to deface, damage, and ruin rock. Sometimes it takes effort and other times all it takes is a small bump. 

We talk about “rock” solid relationships and “rock” solid friendships. The truth of the matter is that "rock" solid depends on what kind of “rock” those things are built upon.

Is it metamorphic?

                    Igneous?

                         Sedimentary? 

                       

                     How did your “rock” solid start?                      How has it changed?

Rock changes. It does! I swear! Not like trees or flowers that change with the seasons, no. Rocks change on a much larger, longer, more permanent scale and that change is largely determined by the environment the rock is in.

A rock that is in a river or stream can be bounced and jostled through the water to a clean, cool, glassy smoothness.

A rock that is under a glacier is cracked and popped apart and ground down, the force exuded upon it leaving it in smaller and smaller jagged pieces.

A rock that is porous, like limestone and sandstone can have holes worn through it by water and wind. Sometimes when you look at that rock you won't even know the holes are there until you step hard and fall through or tap the rock and hear the hollow ring coming from inside.

Lava is molten rock that has welled up from inside and exploded onto the surface to harden and create a new landscape, usually destroying anything in its path.

Granite, marble, jade and bedrock take significantly more time to bend to the outside forces that work upon it and changes are not seen nearly as obvious to those who are only here for, in rock years,  the blink of an eye.

Let’s face it, no matter how “rock” solid that one thing is in your life it will change.

 Maybe it will change quickly and smoothly. Perhaps it will be put under such pressure that it has to crack, or something will wear through it unnoticed until such a time as the surface is worn so thin that it has to give, leaving a big hole, or maybe it will explode and harden around you.

Even if we feel that we are made of the hardest rock out there, whether we realize it or not, there are outside forces changing us. Most of the time we can’t see those changes until the passage of time has left its mark and we look back at what we were, then look at what we’ve become.

What do we do to each other? We like to look, peer, gaze, study, especially when we've been apart for a long time what do we hear? 

"OH!! You've changed so much!" or "OH!! You haven't changed a bit!"

Often the problem we have with looking at each other in brief snippets of time - is that we don't have the luxury of having the NPS post signs at each of our erosion or changing areas

 "Caution! Revegetation in progress, do not walk!" or "Caution! Weak cliff edge, do not pass this point!"

And, often unknowingly, we cause damage to someone who is eroding, being crushed, or ready to explode and harden. We would do well to stand back and look at where we are going to tread before taking a step, or even better, step back and thoughtfully admire whoever it is we're looking at and then not step at all.

No two rocks are the same, different rocks react differently to the various forces exuded upon it. It is up to us to read some signs, appreciate what we see and  - 

We certainly do not want to be the person who destroys the Grand Canyon or defaces DaVinci's David! So why would we ever want to harm another person? 

"A smart person knows what to say. A wise person knows whether or not to say it."

Clearing for Joy

I know many of you hate this kind of introduction, but I've found as I read and learn that many times the words we use on a daily basis we don't truly know the meaning or definition of and for me, it helps to clarify things if I seek out the actual dictionary meaning (and sometimes the origin) of a word, so, bear with me. 

Define the word Joy. 

     The Oxford dictionary defines Joy as:

NOUN: A feeling of great pleasure and happiness:

Now, one step further, define Great.

     Back to Oxford: Great

ADJECTIVE: Of an extent, amount, or intensity considerably above the normal or average:

In the Book of Mormon (click here if you'd like to learn more about this book), we are told in the book of 2 Nephi 2:25

           "......and men are, that they might have joy."

What brings you joy? Think about this for a few minutes before you continue reading, go ahead, I'll wait............

Many of you know that for the last few years that I have been struggling, physically, with my career as a musician. The overarching problem has been constant pain stemming from a number of different and compounding injuries. 


Almost 4 years ago I had my second cervical fusion. The inside of me essentially looks like this (this isn't me, but it's pretty much the same). I have a metal plate holding a pair of my vertebra together and the pair above is fused with bone from my hip. This particular area in our neck is where most of the nerves that take care of our shoulders, arms, and hands are bundled through and proceed to where they eventually terminate.



One year ago I had surgery to correct a nerve compression in my right arm (radial tunnel syndrome) and as I have worked on my recovery in the last year, it has proven to have been a successful surgery. 

In the interim, I've fought some tennis elbow and other tendonitis issues in my thumb, but today, after therapy, cortisone, and lots of rest, I'm able to get up in the morning and not have any pain in my hands and arms.

This process of becoming pain-free has not only included MD's, PT's, and OT's but also an acupuncturist, herbalist, Alexander method teacher, and now a private violin teacher. 

About two months ago I came to the obvious conclusion that the only way I was ever going to play again was to re-learn how to play and be accountable to someone, so I made the call. John was the teacher I learned from some 17 years ago upon my return to Utah. I was suffering then too and finding a teacher whose method focused on pain-free playing was vital - John was the man. It was humbling to make that call but I knew I had to do it. 

The first couple of lessons were review; mentally, egoistically, painful review. 

After the second lesson I knew that I had to be all in, there could be no part way here or I will never return to performing. That meant violin in hand 15 minutes at a time, then lay on the floor, mentally review, get up, do something else for a couple of hours, another 15 minutes, lay on the floor, review.....

I tried to beg off the next lesson but he insisted that for my progress I needed to be there. 

I went. 
   I came home. 
       I scaled. 
           A major. 
                  3rds. 
                    lay on the floor, review, get up, do something else for a couple of hours......

Lesson time today. Pitch.
     Your instrument will tell you when you're in tune. Did you know that? 
     You keep moving forward and down. Did you know you do that? 
     Your thumb is too involved. Did you know that? 

My frustration was palpable, yes, I knew all this but it wasn't working!! As he took my instrument, pushed it up and out and made me shift from C to E something happened. He saw it in my face - 

     "Jenna," he said, " The picture you sent me with the falcon, I saw absolute joy in that picture. I think I just saw it again. Why hasn't that same joy been your face while you're playing? Why did you lose it?"

Holy schizzle!! I USED to take great joy in playing the violin......

     "Jenna, what happened?"

My mind melted around the thought of joy and playing like hot plastic wrap; what had happened? 

Playing was no joy, what was he talking about, it was a misery! Wait...was it?? For the longest time, I haven't been able to bend, straighten, shift, sit, vibrato, bow, concentrate, sleep, open doors, conduct, lift children, turn a screwdriver, tighten my bow, open a soda, or even write.

All I could do was hurt, dread, cry, fear, anguish over, and loathe picking up my instrument for any reason. 

Performing and playing, my joy had turned on me. And it had turned in such a fashion that I had forgotten that it ever was a joy. 

"I used to find joy in this...." 

           Was I telling him, or myself?

Sometimes we need to get out of our own way. We all do it - it's the whole forest for the trees thing. Often times we need to find a clearing to see what it is we're looking at. 

And that's what yesterday's lesson was, a clearing. A clearing of the idea that my joy was only pain.

As we finished the hour and 15-minute session John asked,

"So, do you hurt?"

"No."

"Are you tired?"

"No."

"Do your hands feel alive?"

"Yes."

                                                                   And with a shrug, the lesson had been learned. 

"Joy is what happens to us when we allow ourselves to recognize how good things really are." 

                                                                                              -Marianne Williamson

Rewriting of Nephi's Psalm˜

Behold, my soul delighteth in the things of the Lord; and my heart pondereth continually upon the things which I have seen and heard.

Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord, in showing me his great and marvelous works, my heart exclaimeth:

“O wretched man that I am!”

Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquities.

I am encompassed about, because of the temptations and the sins which do so easily beset me. And when I desire to rejoice, my heart groaneth because of my sins; nevertheless, I know in whom I have trusted.

My God hath been my support;

He hath led me through mine afflictions in the wilderness;

and

He hath preserved me upon the waters of the great deep.

He hath filled me with his love,

even unto the consuming of my flesh.

He hath confounded mine enemies,

unto the causing of them to quake before me.

Behold, he hath heard my cry by day,

and he hath given me knowledge by visions in the night-time.

And by day have I waxed bold in mighty prayer before him; yea, my voice have I sent up on high; and angels came down and ministered unto me.

And upon the wings of his Spirit hath my body been carried away upon exceedingly high mountains.

And mine eyes have beheld great things, yea, even too great for man; therefore I was bidden that I should not write them.

O then, if I have seen so great things, if the Lord in his condescension unto the children of men hath visited men in so much mercy, why should my heart weep and my soul linger in the valley of sorrow, and my flesh waste away, and my strength slacken, because of mine afflictions?

And why should I yield to sin, because of my flesh?

Yea, why should I give way to temptations, that the evil one have place in my heart to destroy my peace and afflict my soul?

Why am I angry because of mine enemy?

Awake, my soul!

No longer droop in sin. Rejoice, O my heart, and give place no more for the enemy of my soul.

Do not anger again because of mine enemies.

Do not slacken my strength because of mine afflictions.

Rejoice, O my heart, and cry unto the Lord, and say:

“O Lord, I will praise thee forever; yea, my soul will rejoice in thee, my God, and the rock of my salvation.”

O Lord, wilt thou redeem my soul?

Wilt thou deliver me out of the hands of mine enemies?

Wilt thou make me that I may shake at the appearance of sin?

May the gates of hell be shut continually before me, because that my heart is broken and my spirit is contrite!

O Lord, wilt thou not shut the gates of thy righteousness before me,

that I may walk in the path of the low valley, that I may be strict in the plain road!

O Lord, wilt thou encircle me around in the robe of thy righteousness!

O Lord, wilt thou make a way for mine escape before mine enemies!

Wilt thou make my path straight before me!

Wilt thou not place a stumbling block in my way—but that thou wouldst clear my way before me, and hedge not up my way, but the ways of mine enemy.

O Lord, I have trusted in thee, and I will trust in thee forever.

I will not put my trust in the arm of flesh; for I know that cursed is he that putteth his trust in the arm of flesh. Yea, cursed is he that putteth his trust in man or maketh flesh his arm.

Yea, I know that God will give liberally to him that asketh.

Yea, my God will give me (if I ask not amiss); therefore I will lift up my voice unto thee; yea, I will cry unto thee, my God, the rock of my righteousness.

Behold, my voice shall forever ascend up unto thee, my rock and mine everlasting God.  Amen.

Hating

HATRED:

The Oxford English dictionary definition states:
              Noun: Intense dislike or ill will

Noun?? According to Schoolhouse Rock, a noun is a person, place, or thing. How does an emotion become a person, place, or thing??

THING:
         Noun: An object that one need not, cannot or does not wish to give a specific name to

OBJECT:
        Noun: A material thing that can be seen and touched

A 'thing' is something solid, real, something that is there to hold onto, how is hatred a THING? I believe it comes from

FEAR:
         Noun: An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain or a threat. (Bold added)

What do you fear? What beliefs do you have that cause you to fear?

I had (and to some degree still have) two great fears: Fire and Wolves.

Crazy huh? I can trace each of these fears back to their start.

My fear of fire began in 2nd grade when Mrs. Pugh presented her unit on fire safety. For months after that unit I smelled smoke, every single night, and screamed for my Dad to make sure we were safe and that the house was not burning down. And Dad, every night, would stand in the doorway of my room and (with a bit of exasperation) inform me there was no smoke and no fire and we were safe.

See!! TERRIFYING! 

My fear of wolves came from watching the Disney cartoon of The Three Little Pigs. Seriously, that wolf was terrifying!!! He slunk around, drooling and laughing trying to eat the pigs. I had nightmares constantly about that wolf. When I was in college my lab partner invited me out to her car to meet her dog; I nearly wet myself when she popped open the back hatch on her truck and there sat a wolf hybrid. It had the tall, scruffy hackles and long, lean legs and the eyes - I will NEVER forget those piercing blue eyes, that animal knew things and it was dressing me down! I swallowed what little spit I still had in my mouth and on my friend's invitation, reached out and scratched the ears of one of my biggest fears.

William Shakespeare in his play, Anthony and Cleopatra wrote, "In time we hate that which we often fear." I suppose I never came to hate either of these things because I came to a knowledge of them myself, I overrode the "belief" I had with study, exploration and learning. I learned how to protect myself and my family in the event of a fire. I studied about wolves and their near extinction and the importance they play in the ecosystem. Did I jump to conclusions before I started to learn about my fears? Absolutely! But my fear never turned to hate.

I know this all sounds rather simplistic, come on Jen, these aren't real world problems - wolves and fire....psh!

Are you afraid? Do you fear?

"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering." 

(Yoda, that Jedi master, he was a smart one!)

As I climbed into bed last night, I fluffed my pillow, adjusted the hot pack around my sore shoulders, tucked the blanket in around me and began to cry. My persona is terribly sensitive, I may not come across that way, in fact, I know that to many people I come across as cold and unfeeling - but I do have a fairly soft heart. By the time I made it to my bed last night the burden from the past few weeks of seeing so many people - friends, family, students (current and former), display so much hate and anger on social media had taken its toll. I didn't just cry, I sobbed.

I guess I don't understand.

I've had adults look me square in the face and ask me how I can possibly feel safe teaching school? I teach high school, and I love and TRUST every single student I teach!

"Aren't you afraid??" they ask, "aren't you scared of being shot or...or...or something??"

Why should I be afraid? Yes, I'm sure there are students that carry weapons. Yes, many of my students are bigger than me and could take me down in a heartbeat. You're right, some of them do not have the same value system that I do. But no, I am not afraid. Unless a student gives me a reason not to trust them I have complete faith in them. But, I do not go into school unprepared.

I participate in the safety drills, lockdowns, lockouts, fire drills, earthquake, active shooter - I talk to and reassure my students that everything to keep them safe is being done and that I will absolutely stand in the way of anyone trying to do harm to them - be that physical, mental or spiritual.

Am I afraid? Of what do I have to be afraid? If I lived in fear I would be useless as a teacher and a human being.

But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil.

                                                       Proverbs 1:33

Fear of evil is not my undoing, but it is in seeing those around me, that I love so dearly, fear. 

If there is one thing I could give you it would be the ability to remove fear from your lives, to love and trust and know that fear only leads to anger, hate, and suffering; be it yours or someone else's. I would plead with you to trust wisely and to remove fearmongering from your lives as it will only serve to harm and debilitate you as you hide and become hardened from your time in the shadowy places of doubt and anxiety.

Sadly, I cannot give it to you.

Much as I love and care for you I cannot allow fear to be a part of my life. Know that I still respect and appreciate everything that anyone who has touched my life has given me, but I will not be part of fear, anger and hatred. Perhaps you will see less of me, perhaps you will no longer see me at all, perhaps, with these words, it is you who will withdraw from me...but know that I care for you no less.

Here is to light and love and hope!

Wherever there are birds....

Last summer I decided to do something I’d never done before. I was going to become a bird nerd!

That’s right, this orch dork was going to add bird nerd to her list of monikers. It happened when I started watching the SL Falcon cam. The city of Salt Lake has a peregrine falcon nest box on the side of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building. There has been a pair of nesting falcons in that box for more than 20 years and the Department of Wildlife Resources has been the overseeing entity to ensure those falcons are watched after and protected as they nest, fledge young, and live in downtown.

The DWR offered an introductory course to the falcons in late May 2014. I attended just to see what it was about and it was there I met Bob Walters, the great falcon overseer! Really, he is! If there is a person anywhere in the state that gives everything he has to the care and keeping of an animal, THIS is the guy! What’s even better about him is that he doesn’t care how much experience you have or don’t have, where you come from, how old you are, what you look like or how much time you have -  if you show up and offer to help, he will learn your name, hand you a walkie-talkie and send you out to do the job with all the trust in the world that you are going to do exactly what he needs you to do!

Bob gave us an overview of the falcon history at JSMB and what was needed of the  volunteers and when. I really expected more detail, but there wasn’t any. The details were to show up starting on this date, at any time, bring a backpack with a towel, water, and wear sturdy shoes. Really. That was it.

At the appointed day and time I showed up, an old towel tucked in the strap of my backpack, binoculars, water bottle and full of apprehension.

I walked up to Bob, seated at what I soon discovered was “bird central” and said,“Hi, I’m  here to help.”

My apprehension disappeared as I was greeted with a smile, summarily handed a walkie-talkie, told where one bird was (the other two were still in the nest box) and instructed where to post up to keep an eye on things.

I soon discovered that watching and waiting for falcons to fledge was a bit like playing a studio gig; 98% boredom and 2% OH MY HELL!! WHAT THE FUZZ !??!?

During that 98% boredom stage I got to know a few people, like the ladies that came and spent an hour helping out before going to work at the unclaimed properties office, or the woman who worked in state government that quite literally waits for this particular time of year and takes her two weeks of vacation just so she can help with the falcons!

I also got to know, indirectly, some of the gardeners at the LDS church property, LDS church security, and a few of the LDS missionaries who wandered through. There were also the people who worked in the church office building who would stop by and ask any of us with a walkie and a towel how the birds were and which birds had fledged and where they all were, at any given time of day.

One thing that was incredibly fun was to show the kids who were downtown with their families exploring, or there on vacation, the birds. To hand them a pair of binoculars and help them focus in, then explain to them that that little bird up there was THE FASTEST animal on the planet (NO WAY!! Mom, is that true???) was incredibly rewarding. It made even more of an impact on those kids when that little bird up there would take flight and I would watch that child follow the bird with their eyes popped open almost as far as their jaw was dropped.

There are two experiences that will be burned in my mind until I die or my mind gives out on me completely.

Mama bird was teaching Ace (he was the first of the young to fledge and he was quite the flyer, very coordinated from the get-go) how to do some hunting. She was having him play catch, mid-air. For this game, Mom would have prey (deceased) and would toss it or try to hand it off to her youngster while they were both in flight.  

I was sitting on the corner of South Temple and Main, looking east and south, watching the front of the JSMB when the call came over the walkie that Ace and Mom were on the move and they were moving west -  fast. I stood up to see them fly between the buildings over my head, two other volunteers rounded the corner and met up with me as we watched Mom and Ace take the corner and head South.

I remember glancing at the people around me as I ran with the other volunteers following the birds - it was as if all of downtown Salt Lake was watching a high flying aerial act. Everyone had stopped, put hands up to their shade their eyes and were pointing and “Ooohing” at the two feathered artists doing loops and twists above their heads. It was at that moment things went wrong, in a flash the collective gasp from the crowd created a vacuum at the corner of South Temple and Main.

Ace, who was being such a diligent fledgling student, caught the prey Mom threw to him and in his excitement, failed to see the wall of the mall on his west side. He looked, tried to pull up, but it was too late. The prey he had so adeptly caught flew out of his outstretched talons and he turned just enough to allow his back to hit the wall and avoid a full on face plant! Down he fluttered in a heap of disappointed feathers onto the sidewalk.

The three of us sprinted diagonally across the intersection, we seemed to be the only people moving, there was no traffic, no train...nothing! Towels fluttering, walkies crackling - “Where are they? Can you see them? There’s Mom! Where’s Ace!?”

As we stepped up to the dazed bird he looked at us in both shame and amazement. Two of us cornered him while the third radioed in that we had him and he appeared unharmed and that we were bringing him back to “bird central.”

It was only then that I realized the city had exhaled - the camera phones were out, pictures snapping, fingers pointing, traffic moving, the train came around the corner….

The other episode that I will always recall came in the quiet of a morning while I was watching the box waiting for the last bird to fledge (she was a stubborn one). I still tear up thinking about it. It was one of the most amazing, unreal things I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

Me and one other volunteer had been assigned to keep an eye out for the last fledgling, and we were sitting on the bench directly across from the box, enjoying a cool, quiet morning. From that place you can look south and see the Zions bank tower where these birds like to head once they gain some confidence. It’s a great tall building and it has a good vantage point from which the birds can see everything.

That morning, Mama bird and Ace had made it to the top of the Zions building, and as we sat chatting and watching we could see them doing practice circles. Mom would take off from the building head east, make a circle and come back around to the building and land, then Ace would do the same. She really was such a great teacher, that Mama bird.

After a few rounds of watching this we didn’t pay quite as much attention to them, they were practicing and they were fine. Soon we heard the call of Mama. She was making noise and she was serious! As we looked up at them she made another round, Ace followed, but Mom didn’t land. She came up and around again, but gained more altitude, Ace couldn’t follow, he landed and watched.

We stood up. Watching. She was still gaining altitude.

“What is she doing?” I asked.

No answer.

Suddenly, she cried again and in a split second the long, elegant, lengthened, feathered wings disappeared. They flattened against her body and came to a sharp, tight point matching her tail. She had gone from kite to bullet!  The speed was incredible!

In the time it took us to gasp, she had travelled from high above the Zions bank building, across the street, between the church administration and JSMB to just past where we were standing. My friend grabbed my arm! Our mouths hung open! Mama falcon screeched again as she popped those pointed wings like a drag chute and came almost to a complete stop, mid-air, in front of the nest box only to scream at, and harass, her yet to fledge youngster, turn and fly away again.

The two of us couldn’t move, we couldn’t speak, we just looked at each other. I had tears, so did she. The walkie popped to life, “Where’s Mom??”

I fumbled to find my walkie. “She’s...um….”

Thankfully, someone else had seen her flight path.

I have never seen anything so fast and so precise. It was the best ‘Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom’ moment I had ever imagined having - and in the middle of downtown Salt Lake!

Today, this sweet, dedicated Mama bird is sick, and if she recovers she may never return to the wild, but you know what, it’s ok. She showed her fledglings what she needed to. She showed them how to fly, how to catch and hunt, and how to shoot down a concrete canyon and make anyone who is aware of their small and quiet presence absolutely stunned at the grace and ability they have been given.

Thank you, Mama bird. You filled the measure of your creation and then some….

"Wherever there are birds, there is hope."

-Mehmet Murat ildan