Mini-Awe-Polis 5

It’s time for another Mini-Awe-Polis, a collection of observations, like hay in my jacket pockets. 

Lately, after more than two dozen successfully recorded moments for Awe, Nice! I have been having some short and stilted conversations with people who work outside, who spend their lives outside. These are folks who have done incredible feats, witnessed cool weather events, been part of amazing wildlife encounters.  Yet, they struggle to identify and articulate a specific moment of wonder.

I get it.

As a young adult, I remember thinking Maine was pretty ho-hum. Nice ocean. Nice hills. But bugs and rain.

Then I returned as a 40-year-old. I went with a visitor on The Cliff Walk, behind the recycling center, between the Harpswell peninsulas. I noticed the tiny plants and small animals that thrive under the conifers. I watched tide come up Strawberry Creek as if it were marching (Strawberry Creek is a misnomer, more an inlet than a creek, about as wide as I am tall, full of eel grass and opening up to salt marsh and mudflats and the Atlantic Ocean). I drove towards Land’s End, a gift shop at the tip of Bailey Island, where I saw a moose swimming. A big bull moose swimming in Casco Bay is a pretty nifty thing to see. But I think it took leaving, then coming back, to say, Wow. 

Sometimes, I’m finding, the wonder for people who work outside every day, in the elements, gets lessened by seeing a lot (even during the course of a day) and gets tamped down by the need to get things done. Moments of awe might be acknowledged by a smile or a nod or a pause but there’re nothing to write home about. Oohing and ahhing is something that tourists do. Celebrating them, sharing them is something instagrammers and weekend warriors do. 

It’s not that they don’t see stuff. 

From my informal surveying over the years, I’d say people who work outside, who work in challenging environments, are very attentive to detail. Last week, we brought cows down from the mountain and we were paying attention to the weather, how cows were moving (individually as well as as a group), whether the calves were tiring, how the dogs and horses were working, how the terrain was affecting our travel, where and when we could anticipate things shifting. Just a few details of many to consider every moment of every hour. The scene changes and we move on. I watched a bear, maybe 20 feet from dozens of cows, simply stop as he was walking along a downed tree and watch us. 

Me, personally, I like to think I’m pretty observant.

As a kid, my parents, especially my mom, instilled a practice of curiosity and observation. Not just ‘what bird was that?’ for instance, but ‘what is it doing?’

Summer field work during my college years taught me to distinguish between a worried, you’re too close to my nest chirp and a less stressed, investigative chirp.

We were studying the mating patterns of Indigo Buntings, which seem to be monogamous, but, lo and behind, were not.

Like a lot of birds, indigo bunting males have a specific song that birders can identify. But with our work, we could identify individual males by their particular variation of that song.

Now, when I hear spotted towhees (which were the inspiration for Jody Chapel’s Awe, Nice! logo), I do hear the sort of ‘drink your tea.’ But other times, it’s ‘drink your’ or ‘drink, drink your tea.’

Some other behaviors I’ve learned over time:

• When birds pop up on a branch and wipe their beaks, it’s usually because they have been foraging.
• Birds like to poop before they take off flying again. 

Field work taught me to think about animals, not just at that moment, but what might have occurred before I was watching them and what might happen next. 

Still, like my interviewees, I tend to get used to what I see, hear, and smell. I can get weary in my observations. I think people who work outside often consider moments of wonder with kind of mental shoulder shrug. Wonder abounds. We’re lucky and grateful to be out here. But also, it’s just another day.  

Awe, Nice! welcomes interviewees. If you have a moment you experienced while working outside and would like to share it, contact us at awenice.com. Awe, Nice! also welcomes your support. You can find a donate button here. 

Music is by my friend, Forrest Van Tuyl.

Keep your eyes, ears, and mind open. Until next time.