The Virginia Nomad
I am a trainer with the State of Virginia. I travel throughout the state to teach Erosion and Sediment Control and Stormwater Management. I try to take the back roads and I like taking photographs. I am a naturalist, trained in biology and ecology with a very deep rooted love for nature. In this blog I like to share my photography hobby, other hobbies of mine, including my passion for sailing, biking, hiking and nature. I will also share my philosophical outlook on life and some of experience.
Friday, March 7, 2025
Honor your ancestors (Story of my life 4) (3/7/2025)
Thursday, February 27, 2025
We are going to the birds (2/27/2025)
Yellow Rumped Warbler |
Cedar Waxwing |
Red-Winged Blackbird |
Song sparrow |
White crowned sparrow |
White- throated sparrow |
Carolina Chickadee |
Tufted titmouse |
Carolina Wren |
Brown Thrasher |
Northern Mockingbird |
Northern Cardinal |
Red bellied Woodpecker |
Downy Woodpecker |
Hairy Woodpecker |
Northern Flicker |
Eastern Bluebird |
American Robin |
European Starling |
Brown-headed Cowbird |
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker |
White-breasted Nuthatch |
Common Grackle |
Dark-eyed Junco |
American Goldfinch |
House finch |
Purple finch |
Blue Jay |
Mourning dove |
Eastern Towhee |
Hermit Thrush |
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At least 31 species, not bad for a suburban yard. This list is not in any particular order, but just as I remember them. Watching them on the feeders or bird baths is interesting. There definitely is a pecking order amount the birds. I am amazed about how dominant the yellow-rumped warblers try to be. They will stand up to the big birds on the feeders, sit in the middle, ruffle their feathers and take a defensive stand. They even peck at other birds. Tough little critters they are! They will vacate the feeder when confronted by the bigger birds such as the mockingbird, the bluejay and the various blackbirds. But they will stand up against the thrasher. Bluebirds are a different story. They are fairly dominant as well and they will confront the warbler with varying result. At times they tolerate each other. There is somewhat of a peace between the cardinals and the warbler as well. The goldfinches use a different tactic. They dominate by the numbers, and all the sudden a feeder is swamped by 5 or more goldfinches and there just is no room for other birds, until a bully bird such as the blue jay or mockingbird flies in.
The shiest birds (or maybe the lowest on the packing order) appear to be the thrush, cedar waxwing, titmouse and the junco. The cedar waxwing only uses the birdbath. Thrasher is very secretive but will stand its ground, especially when they gorge themselves on the suet. It is just a lot of fun to observe all the birds, their interactions and behavior during our breakfasts and lunches.
One of the nicest moments occurred the other day. We were sitting inside with our morning coffee and newspaper when we heard a familiar bonk against our sliding door, a bird strike. Looking for the poor victim, I noticed a tiny bird, face down in a snow drift on our deck. Actually, the only thing I saw was a tail sticking out of the snow. I ran outside and softly scooped the poor bird up. It was a “butter but” or a yellow-rumped warbler as they are officially known as. I gently put it under a chair in our yard, in the sun but out of the snow. When I went to check it an hour later, the bird was gone; it had survived the crash. Approximately 15 minutes later I was in the yard and right above me in a tree was a “butter but’ flitting around in the branches, looking at me and chirping like crazy. I had never experienced that, and we have a large number of these warblers in our yard and around the feeders. I figured it was the warbler I pulled out of the snow and brought to its rehabilitation spot in the sun, and it was now thanking me for saving it. I realize that I am anthropomorphizing here but it just made me feel good. It made my day!
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A dark-eyed junco on our feeder. |
Wednesday, February 19, 2025
Stories of my life 3 (moving) (2/19/2025)
After leaving the service we lived in at least 13 more locations, not counting brief stints of a few weeks with both sets of parents. Twenty-eight moves or new homes in the first fourty-seven years of my life. On average , I moved from one place to another every 1.67 year or every one year and eight months. During that time I lived in nine countries (that count includes two islands in the Caribbean) on five continents (placing the two islands as Central or South America). Phew, I am tired of thinking about all that travel and moving. But on the other side, I miss it at times.
During the past thirty years I had careers that required a lot of traveling. First as a consultant I traveled for the various projects I was assigned to. I traveled to Los Angeles and a week later I was in New Hampshire or up state Pennsylvania. Then it was Louisiana or Michigan; you get the idea. When I took a job as an instructor for the state of Virginia, I was required to travel overnight at least two weeks per month, albeit in State. I liked the pleasure of solo traveling, be it by car or by air. While traveling with colleagues is fun, I somehow liked to be alone, for meals or just in my motel room. I assume that is a true sign of being an introvert, although my wife think that my claim of being an introvert is pure bull shit. However, my career forced me to be out in public and act extroverted. Marketing is the game as a consultant; although I was never good at it or comfortable with it.
And now I am retired. Do I miss the traveling? Yes and no.
Since retirement I have been across the country three times; really from the east coast to the west coast. I have written about these trips <here>, <here> and <here>. We camped at least three times around our state and stayed in a cabin at a state park. I should not forget our camping trip to the eastern shore of Maryland. Finally, another solo trip this year to Missoula, MT where I explored Walden and Desert Solitaire with a group of like-minded folks as part of the “Listening to America” organization.
Today I got the news that a friend of mine passed away last night; I am going to miss you, Roy! At least Roy led a good life (although you might say he was not kind to his own health). During retirement he and his wife travelled to South Africa, Egypt and to Petra in Jordan, just to name a few places. Other retired friends are currently in the Galapagos Islands; another good friend spent ten days in Marocco straight after retiring this year, and finally some very good friends just returned from a trip down under (New Zeeland and Australia), they were in Finland last year. I told my wife today that we better do some traveling before it is too late. Although we have seen a lot of this world and tell people things like “been there, done that, loved it, and got the t-shirt,” there are still places I would like to explore or even revisit.
Tuesday, February 11, 2025
Transform yourself ... Stories of our life 2 (2/11/2025)
I also ran into a quote by Erasmus the other day. This quote takes me to the political situation we are finding ourselves in as a country. The Dutch humanist, philosopher, priest Erasmus’ words still ting true when he warned us in the late 1400s and early 1500 about today's politics when he wrote: “The less talent they have, the more pride, vanity and arrogance they have. All these fools, however, find other fools who applaud them.” These two quotes (Erasmus’ and King’s) intersect each other in an interesting way.
Fools in this sense does not infer that these folks are poor, destitute, have a low IQ, or not successful; just plain dumb. Bringing it back to King, these fools have been formed by a demagog called tRump. However, I am not sure who is the largest fool tRump or mUsk, who is following who in that case, and who else conforming to them and applauding them? They do not want to renew their mind but be back in the 1920s and 30s, or even earlier (McKinley?) and make this country backwards and racist again.
I want to leave it there and go on with some of the stories of my life and go back to Mr. Kings interpretation of St. Paul's words. “Do not let the world form you. Do not conform to it.” This was somewhat of the motto that I live by from my mid to late teens (late 1960s) and probably all the way until 2010. I mentioned in my previous post that I was moved to The Netherlands in August 1969 from the island of Curacao. I use the term “was moved" because it had nothing to do with my free will. As a 16-year-old you are not supposed to have free will but do what your parents think is best for you or the entire family. This move set me off on a more nihilistic path. I came from an exotic island that a lot of my new fellow students never heard of, let alone had never been too. The attention allowed me to become somewhat of a class clown, rebellious, different with an attitude of I don't give a damn.
The second part of King's translation: “Instead, transform yourself through a renewing of your mind” is also part of my life. I have always wanted to learn, but usually on my terms and not the way you are supposed to in today’s society. I took double the number of required courses in grad school and a lot of them were outside my major of study. We still have a library of a wide variety of books, some of which we are currently trying to get rid of; we are getting older and do not want to saddle our daughter up with having to dispose of them.
As I reported in an earlier post, this year I went to a retreat to discuss Walden and Desert Solitaire. Honestly, I felt like I was infected by a case of “Imposter Syndrome.” Me a scientist/educator/ecologist studying and discussing literature and philosophy? But I was renewing my mind, broadening my experience; and I had fun, learned a lot and was inspired; so much so that I am going back next year.
This brings me back to where I started with this write-up. I will continue visiting my stories as discussed in my previous post. In addition, I will keep pointing out what my perception is of what is going on in these politically and socially difficult times.
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Out with the old. These mushrooms are digesting an old stimp to make place for a new tree. |
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Some nice forest bathing this morning. I just sat on a stump for 15 minutes and mediated in the woods. |
Thursday, January 30, 2025
The Stories of our Life (1/30/2025)
The questions were:
1. Tell us a story from your life that tells us something about where you came from.
2. Tell us a story from your life that tells us something about what you are.
3. Tell us a story from your life that tells us something about where you are going.
If you read my blog regularly, my possible answer to the second question should be familiar to you; this is what this blog mostly is about. I could have given four stories that address question 1. One of the stories is about the kid that was killed for stealing a pig. This happened in Uganda (1978) and the event is still haunting me. The other stories include one on how my career started; secondly about the first kiss my wife and I exchanged in 1976 while skating on the ice between Gouda and Rotterdam; and lastly the labor riots in Curacao 1969 and what this eventually led to.
Let’s start at the beginning: Curacao. I was 15, when on May 30, we were on lunch break at our high school. We were standing just outside the gate of our school, having just returned from buying some snacks at the Portuguese shop (toko, or convenience store) across the street when a huge crowed of angry protestors marched by the school on their way downtown. I was personally blown away from seeing all these angry faces walking by and so many! The school closed down and I think it was my father who picked me up. We lived on top of a hill fairly far removed from downtown (20 or so miles) but that afternoon we watched dark billowing clouds of smoke rising from the town (Willemstad). It later appeared that downtown was partially destroyed and put ablaze by the rioters. I read reports that eventually 432 rioters were arrested. Based on those numbers you can imagine how many rioters I saw that faithful morning passing by our school. The islands went into martial law for a week, and I remember 1) family friends coming over to stay with us, to be far enough from the epicenter of the riots, 2) with my father franticly driving around the island trying to find an arms dealer or some place where he could buy a weapon to defend the family, and 3) being safely at home with my scared parents and their friends. The name of the leader of the rioters was called Pappa Godett. You can just imagine what the white minority on the island was joking about or hoping for.
A little background, we had lived in the Congo and although we had not gone (suffered) through the independence war in that country (read Atwood’s “Poisonwood Bible” or Naipaul’s “A Bend in the River”). Many of my parents’ old friends (yes, white colonialists) had and had shared the horror stories with them. These riots scared my parents shitless, enough that they started panicking. Eventually things settled down, but my parents had enough; they decided to move back to the Netherlands. They stuck me on a plane in early August to start my 3rd grade (9th for those readers in the US) in high school (the move put me back one grade). I was sent to live with my aunt and her four daughters (two more or less my age) for the first few months and was reunited with my family in December of that year.
You can imagine how this shaped me. I had just discovered girls, already fallen in love at least twice and now had a steady girlfriend. These riots pulled me away from it all, my beloved island, its culture, my friends and my girlfriend. It changed my life forever, setting a course for who I am now, not better or worse. It just made me who I am today.
Stay tuned, I will write more about the next two stories that shaped me. Who knows, I may even write the story of my future in one of these posts; however, I hinted at it in my previous two posts about the workshop with Clay Jenkinson. Conversely, the current political happenings make me feel that I cannot and should not keep my mouth shut; I still have so much to say. In other words, my life stories may be interspersed by some more social and political commentary.