Noticing xxii - penguins

Our houseguests this weekend were intrigued by the fact that we are heading to the Antarctic Peninsula in February—so much so that they bought us a mascot:

We are calling him Percival—Percy for short. He is not coming to Antarctica with us.

Indeed, is he even a penguin? A little research was called for. And what I found is this:

Gentoo penguin (Pygoscelis papua)

• Penguins reside in the Spheniscidae family, from the Greek sphēniskos, 'small wedge', for the shortness of their wings (Percy qualifies on that count alone)
• There are 16–18 recognized species—though arguments can be made for up to 22, and Cape Town's Two Oceans Aquarium lists 26 "types" (or perhaps 27, Percy wonders?)
• All of those however many species are found in the Southern Hemisphere (that would seem to disqualify Percy), and seven are found in Antarctica
• The tallest species is the Emperor penguin, standing almost 4 feet tall; the smallest is the little blue, a diminutive 16 inches (wait, says Percy—that's about my size! maybe I'm a little blue!)
• The fastest penguin is the Gentoo, which can swim at speeds of up to 22 mph (I do not swim, says Percy; if I tried, I believe I would simply float; or possibly sink . . . I really don't know what I'm made of)
• The penguin's black and white coloration is called countershading, and it protects them from predators (oh good, safe from the cats! says Percy)
• Penguins have a special gland behind the eyes—the supraorbital gland—that filters out the seawater they ingest; they excrete it through their beaks, or by sneezing (Percy: I am not too worried about ingesting seawater, and I'm pretty sure I can't sneeze)
• Penguins experience a "catastrophic molt," losing all their feathers all at once, which restricts them to land for a period of two to three weeks (feathers? what's that? asks Percy)
• All but two species of penguins breed in large colonies of up to many tens, or even hundreds of thousands of breeding pairs (I am a very solo penguin, Percy observes—so maybe I'm one of those two species?)
• In some species, it is the male that incubates the eggs while the female goes off hunting for long periods of time (I do not even know whether I'm actually a male, despite my name, says Percy; I may be a Penelope . . . no way to tell, really)
• Ten of the 16–18 species of penguin are listed as vulnerable or endangered; see a list here (I may be a single-individual species, says Percy, but I do not have it tough . . .)
• The first published account of penguins comes from Antonio Pigafetta, who was aboard Ferdinand Magellan's first circumnavigation of the globe in 1520. They spotted the birds near what was probably Punta Tombo in Argentina. (He called them "strange geese.") (I am no strange goose!)
• In the 16th century, the word penguin actually referred to great auks (scientific name: Pinguinus impennis), a now-extinct species that inhabited the seas around eastern Canada. When explorers traveled to the Southern Hemisphere, they saw black and white birds that resembled auks and called them penguins (maybe, Percy wonders, I'm actually a great auk?)

Chinstrap penguin (Pygoscelis antarcticus)

On our trip we will be traveling with a penguin expert, Dr. Tom Hart, who runs the Penguin Watch project at the University of Oxford. Penguins will be a focus of our journey. In the South Shetland Islands we will see chinstrap and gentoo penguins, as well as southern elephant seals, Weddell seals, and southern fur seals. On the Antarctic Peninsula we will see Adélie and gentoo penguins on their nesting grounds—and crabeater, Weddell, and leopard seals, as well as various whales, including humpbacks, orcas, and perhaps rare beaked whales.

In New Zealand a few years ago, we saw little blue (Eudyptula minor) and yellow-eyed penguins (Megadyptes antipodes). I have also seen little penguins on Phillip Island, Victoria, Australia. I am looking forward to seeing a few more species.

African penguin

David reminded me this evening that on a bird-watching boat trip in New Zealand we ran into someone who was hoping to see all 16/18 species of penguin. That reminds me of my own desire: to see all the kingfishers in the world. But I could start a penguin list too. It'd be shorter, and I've got a good start—including the little African, or Cape, penguins (Spheniscus demersus) on display at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Surely they count, even if they're not exactly in the Southern Hemisphere.

Noticing xxi - a very little bit (Flickr)

This is another repost from Flickr, this one from November 6, 2007—twelve years ago today. That was my first (of, ultimately, four) photo-a-day projects, and it was decidedly a one-photo day:

The caption, however, was extensive:

No photographs today, except this one. It has a small story. I was awakened at 4:30 by my pager (well, actually, by an elbow in my side--at which point I, too, heard the bleating—or would that be bleeping?—pager). It was a callout for a search in a Bay Area county two-plus hours away.
 I went back to bed. (I'm a volunteer. I can do that.) Then the phone rang; it was my commander, Steve, who asked if I could go. I figured, okay, if they care enough to get on the phone about this, sure.
 Then Grant (a board member) called, to make sure I was on my way—as I was scurrying around trying to gather together my uniform, my radio, my gloves, my helmet (my bill cap has long since disappeared), my water bottles, my granola bars, my card key, my cell phone, my truck keys, my headlamp, and a jacket—all the while thinking, "I need to put my 24-hour pack together, have it ready to go." Grant said I'd be the only volunteer, accompanying four or five sheriff's deputies. Okay, fine, it's good to have the volunteers represented. I'll do it this time.
 But in the end, two other volunteers showed up, which was great, and there were six deputies—a solid contingent. And we got to go Code 3 on the shoulder past stuck traffic, which was fun.
 When we got there, the man—an 84-year-old with dementia who just happened to be a former sheriff of the county in question (otherwise, I wonder if mutual aid would have been called into play)—was still missing. For about half an hour more. Just long enough for half our team to get an assignment and head out.
 Ultimately, he was found safe and sound, if a bit chilly from having spent the night in a construction site.
 That "safe and sound" part is what we hope for, of course.
 And then we drove back home.

Anyway, the story behind this photo is that I needed to call a fellow I do literacy tutoring with, to tell him I wouldn't be able to meet this morning at 10, so I ripped his numbers out of my journal—since I didn't think he'd appreciate it if I called him at 5 a.m. This is a note to myself on the backside of that page (now rather sloppily taped back into my journal)—about doing a little bit of things I should and would like to do more regular-like, more regular-like; like, every day. Along with it is a list of qualifying activities. Some of which I am going to go do NOW, so I can check them off. And so: no photographs today. Just this one.

Just to be thorough (and because I myself am curious), here's November 6, 2009—ten years ago today—which was titled "Day 309—not":

I was driving to Pacific Grove today thinking, it's been a while
since I've found the number of the day out there in the world.
Today's gonna be the day. And lo and behold! Only...
I miscalculated. Today's day 310. Oh well! I like the picture.

And from 2010, titled simply "Goats":

American Alpine nanny goats at Harley Farms Goat Dairy
in Pescadero. They are curious and affectionate and calm.
Though off in the distance one pair spent the whole time
we were there rising up and butting heads. Playing?
A turf battle? But they did it off on their own, letting the others
enjoy their peace. Goats may be smarter than humans in that way.

And finally, from 2013, titled "Moloka'i Sunset"—from a photo workshop I attended at Hui Ho'olona, a marvelous artist workshop/retreat center:

After a long day of shooting, we were heading back to the
Hui—but had to stop for the sunset. Of course.
This is straight out of the iPhone [4S]—no processing to speak of.
Though what we've been practicing all week is ALL about processing,
using one (or a few) of the myriad apps developed for smart phones.
So it was actually kind of nice to sit on the calm water's edge,
soak up the colors, enjoy the silhouetted features in the scene,
and not worry about "making a better picture."
This one was plenty good enough, all by itself.
[Except for the burnt-out upper middle, but who's counting?]

Noticing xx - sitting

I've written before about not sitting (here), since it's something I do very well. Although I'd like to be less successful at it—that is, more successful at actually slowing down and taking the time to meditate. I know it would do me a world of good. It's not hard, or shouldn't be. What does it take? Pulling out the cushion, setting a timer, maybe lighting some incense? Seriously, how difficult is that?

Well, I once heard someone say that what makes it hard is our ego: that pesky taskmaster wants nothing to do with being put on the shelf even for as little as fifteen, twenty minutes. It refuses to shut up.

There's that. And there's also making a routine out of it—which I'm also not good at. Routines of any sort. I'm trying to get into a routine of going to the gym Tuesday and Thursday afternoons at 2:30, when it's relatively empty. Today marked day one. So far so good!

Next on the agenda: find a time to sit. Daily. I've got the tools:

Not shown is my zafu. I no longer have a zabuton, since the cat, perhaps in solidarity with my ego, peed on it. (Thank goodness he outgrew that behavior.) So I just put the zafu on the carpet. It works fine. Sometimes I even sit in my chair. The point isn't the material trappings; it's doing it. 

Today I thought I'd collect some links to guided meditations, which certainly make the whole project easier. I'm stealing these all (including descriptions) from mindful.org. They're a good place to start—or simply to go when a little assist seems useful.

• An 11-Minute Awareness of Breath Practice: Susan Kaiser-Greenland guides us through one of the oldest meditation practices called "Sit and Know You're Sitting.
• An Inquiring Practice to Notice the Body: This 20-minute guided meditation from Jon Kabat-Zinn explores embracing sensations as they arise in the body in order to ground ourselves in the here and now.
• Breathing Compassion In and Out: Kristin Neff guides us through a 20-minute compassion meditation, first directing kind phrases to ourselves and then to others.
• The Breathscape Practice for Cultivating Mindfulness: A 20-minute meditation from Jon Kabat-Zinn to allow you to tap into your capacity to be in touch with your experience, and be awake and aware with no agenda other than to be awake and aware.
• A Compassion Practice for Opening the Heart: A 15-minute meditation that begins by imagining yourself surrounded by a circle of the most loving beings, making generous offerings of love and goodwill to you.

And here and here are two blog postings from earlier that touch on sitting as well. And here's another one, about, hmmm, resolving to sit. This appears to be a theme of mine. (In a comment to that last one, my friend Kim mentioned Insight Meditation Timer: "Guided meditations. Music only. Variable length. I recommend.")

Noticing xix - Cecilia Lueza, artist

I ran across Argentinean American sculptor and muralist Cecilia Lueza's (b. 1971) art on—where else?—Facebook a few months back. Just one piece, but it's stuck with me:

Today I sought out some more examples of her colorful work, which I post here. (I've included titles and locations where I could find them. I'll keep looking for the ones I missed.) Find her also on—where else?—Facebook at CLAP727.

A Timeless Journey, Jacksonville FL

Elevate, Sarasota FL

Winds of Change, Chattanooga TN

Encounter

Diversity II, Winter Haven FL

Connecting the Blocks, Fort Lauderdale FL

Sunset Flight, Peoria AZ

Oasis, Pompano Beach FL

Noticing xviii - passion

I don't like the word passion. Or, it's not the word I mind; it's a certain expectation that people seem to have, that if one is to be satisfied in life, one should find one's "passion." Certainly, some people do find a passion, and lead wonderfully productive and apparently joyful lives out of it (I think, for example, of Yo-Yo Ma and Ray Troll)—and good for them. But for most of us, I'd argue, passion is way too loaded a word. Many of us are fortunate to find something that we are simply happy to do, something that gives us satisfaction, something that engages us.

I wrote about this already in the first iteration of this daily blog, here. So what brings me back?

This weekend I encountered four different faces of passion and/or engagement, and it was an excellent reminder that it—whatever you want to call it—is all around us. And it's a good thing to notice, both in ourselves and in others.

First was the VWR "summit" I attended Saturday and Sunday, with a campout Saturday night. Those rangers are so committed! They love their trail work, they love connecting with people in the backcounty, they love their tools, they love mastering radio comms, they love their communal potlucks as they all come together and share stories around the tiny electric campfire (we are currently in fire restrictions, but it's likely these rangers wouldn't have a real fire even if we weren't). Here are a few photos I took today from our time together. It was fun!

Steve and Betsy finding "scan" on our radios

Steve and Colleen role-playing ranger and backcountry user

Brian putting his finishing touches on a fire ring

Bobby describing wound treatment

Steve and Mike discussing a radio protocol scenario

Lynn wrastling her radio

Almost all of us. Don't we make a handsome crew?

Second up: I left the summit early so I could attend a concert of the Monterey County Composers Forum in Carmel Valley. The MCCF has been in existence for . . .  17 years? Their online presence is poor, so who knows?—a while, anyway. But where their computer skills are lacking, their passion for music is strong. And every year for however many, three times a year, they—led by Steve Ettinger, a community college music teacher—present concerts of works by Monterey County residents. The pieces range from insipid (sorry) folk songs to wonderful multi-movement chamber music works—and everything in between. My husband, David, belongs to the MCCF and often contributes a piece, but not today. Still: I wanted to go because they were working with a professional cellist, and who doesn't love cello well played? The pieces were, as usual, varied, and mostly very enjoyable, ending with a bang by my perhaps favorite composer in the group, pastor Rick Yramategui. I took a couple of photos. They're not very good, but this post is about passion, and these people were displaying it.

Rick Yramategui (piano) and Doug Machiz (cello)

Barry Capiaux (bassoon), Hannah Ettinger (cello),
Bert Robinson (double bass), and Steve Ettinger (percussion)

Third up this weekend: we are hosting a couple, Kerin and David from South Carolina, who flew all the way to California to attend a weekend contradance, an event called Foggy Moon. I don't dance, though everyone insists I would like it—I tried it once and got blisters, but that could have been mostly me being ornery. Maybe I'll give it another try. Anything's possible. But what I want to comment on here is just the passion of people traveling all over the place to spend a weekend dancing, to live music, rousing callers, and good times. What's not to love about that? (Here's a general photo from a Monterey contradance by way of illustration. David is silhouetted in the lit doorway a quarter of the way in from the right.)

And finally, on our drive home from the concert I got a text message from my Red Cross casework "handler," Beverly, asking if I could take a new case, of a family (a 31-year-old and his 81-year-old grandmother) displaced by a house fire in Cachagua, out Carmel Valley. I don't recall how long Beverly has been a Red Cross volunteer, but she—and so many others I've met in my own few years volunteering—are tireless in their devotion to people in need, whether by deploying to national disasters or coordinating volunteers here at home on smaller disasters—but disasters nonetheless, to those affected. It always makes me angry, when a Katrina or Harvey hits, to see people badmouth the Red Cross. (Largely, I believe, because of some, yes, malfeasance that went on in Haiti years ago. There are bad eggs, for sure, and I'm angry that that happened too.) In the bigger picture, though, the Red Cross does important, large-scale, humanitarian work, and I'm proud to be a very small player in all the good that gets done.

In all four of these examples of passion, I'd like to point out, there is no personal monetary benefit. Just the opposite. The wilderness rangers donate their time, and purchase much of their own equipment; the composers compose and present their music out of sheer love of their art, of their creative community; the dancers spend their own money to travel and dance their hearts out; and Red Cross workers are for the most part completely volunteer (though deployments are covered). In the end, they do this out of sheer love, pleasure, and fulfillment. Isn't that grand?

Noticing xvii - Wendell Berry's "Be Still in Haste"

A short, quiet one today, partly because I wanted to save this link to a recent article about Wendell Berry, a man I mightily admire.

Be Still in Haste

Make Haste Slowly (2018)
by Diana al-Hadid

How quietly I
begin again

from this moment
looking at the
clock, I start over

so much time has
passed, and is equaled
by whatever
split-second is present

from this
moment this moment
is the first

Noticing xvi - Volunteer Wilderness Ranger patrol bring list

Tomorrow the Ventana Volunteer Wilderness Rangers (VWRs) are having their annual summit. Included in the goings-on will be a uniform inspection and an inspection of our packs. We received a list detailing all the things we're supposed to take on each patrol, according to the US Forest Service Job Hazard Analysis (JHA) requirements and the practical needs of our work and locale. I have not been in full compliance. But today I scurried about and gathered all the missing items together. I think I'll pass muster.

We will also be spending the night camping, so that we can do some trail work on Sunday morning. And so I've also been scurrying about gathering together sleeping and cooking gear. And because tomorrow evening we'll have a potluck dinner, and I made a salad, I decided to splurge on a Yeti "leakproof, tough-as-nails, carry-the-day" Hopper Flip 12 cooler (and I mean splurge: forget Cadillacs, these things are the Bentleys of coolers).

In case you're wondering what-all a VWR is supposed to take on every outing, here's the list. The asterisks indicate JHA requirements; the checks indicate items I always (or almost always) bring. The additional items don't add up to much, and yes, might actually come in handy if something went very wrong. In any case, I'm ready for tomorrow's inspection.

Exploded view of most of what
I'll be taking tomorrow

* appropriate clothing for work and weather (✓)
* boots (✓)
* work gloves (✓)
* USFS-approved hard hat (✓)
* radio + extra batteries and/or charged satellite phone and/or charged cell phone (✓)
* water and/or water treatment (✓)
* food - for the planned patrol and maybe a bit more (✓)
* sunscreen (✓)
* first-aid kit in waterproof container (✓)
* eye protection (✓)
* map
* compass
* knife
* whistle
* signal mirror
* fire starter - matches in waterproof container and/or lighter
* head lamp and extra batteries

It's less scary once it's actually packed

campfire/stove permit book (✓)
pen/pencil (✓)
paper/notebook
watch (✓)
garbage bag (✓)
ash bag (✓)
long-handled tool (combi/shovel/McLeod/Pulaski) (✓)
hand saw (✓)
loppers (✓)
daypack (✓)
USFS VWR placard for dashboard
keys/combinations/codes if driving past a locked gate
key to storage boxes

Consider taking:
Leave No Trace pamphlets
VWA business cards
VWA flyers for boxes at trailheads
cell phone (✓)
camera (✓ - in phone)
GPS
bungee cords/straps (to attach garbage bag to pack)
bandanna (✓)
electrolyte replacements (✓)
hat (✓)
bug net
flagging