Vladimir Kagan's Blog

A “Walk” Through History in a Model T

 

 

Final Installment of the Virginia Model T tour 2013

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, June 30, 2013

A split rail fence - so typical in the south - (I have just seen a Civil War documentary, these fences were formidable obstacles against the Union troops)

Our itinerary was filled with visits to famous plantations and historic sites. One of the most fascinating of these was Bacon’s Castle in Surrey. A house built in 1665 the oldest datable brick house in Virginia. It is a rare surviving example of Jacobean architecture in America and was built by Arthur Allen, a wealthy planter. On his death it passed on to his son Major Allen who was forced to abandon it by Nathaniel Bacon, during the Bacon’s Rebellion. Bacon billeted seventy of his men in the house, forcing the Allen family out of their home. Ever since, the house became known as Bacon’s Castle. Bacon was a rogue character and rebelled against the Crown by demanding a war on the Powhatan Indians. Governor William Berkeley refused, and Bacon was ultimately hanged for his defiance.

Bacon's Castle

Of particular interest to students of architecture is the brickwork of the “Castle” that has alternating glazed and natural bricks. At each end of the house the walls terminate with a Dutch ornamented profile. The “Castle” is renowned for its six chimneys; three located at each end, canted at a 45-degree to the wall to better resist the forces of the prevailing winds.

 

On our return trip we stopped for lunch at the Surrey Inn where we were offered a typical local fare starting with peanut soup (very delicious), Fried soft shell crab, a specialty at this time of the year and instead of a pecan pie, we finished the meal with a peanut pie. (I still prefer pecans.)

Surrey is reached by a modern ferry crossing Chesapeake Bay at the Chiickahoniny River. This is normally a delightful free ride, which takes about ten minutes… unless you get caught in a storm! The trip over was uneventful… the return was a different matter. Heavy thunderstorms with deadly lightning were predicted for the late afternoon. Though it was beastly hot and humid, the day was still calm and sunny. By four o’clock we were certain that we had escaped the dire weather. Returning on the ferry, there were no visible signs of a storm. That changed within minutes. Looking westward, we admired the blue skies and calm seas… coming out of nowhere, the eastern sky turned purple and black; in minutes it morphed into an angry storm... the wind was gale force… torrential rain and hale pummeled us at 60 miles per hour. Those sitting in their open antique cars could not hide and had to bundle up as best as they could. In the comfort of the chase car, I watched this astonishing, rapidly changing scene with amazement, Thunder, lightning, angry waves and torrents of rain came rushing at us from everywhere. The ferry was forced to stop amid stream as we were being driven toward the nearby shore … the captain reversed course and headed back from whence we came. Once safely docked, we waited out the storm. Within fifteen minutes the temperature had dropped 30 degrees, the squall moved on as quickly as it came. All was calm, the sea flattened and the ferry was able to once more proceed to its destination.  

lower photo: Our ferry waiting out the storm in a safe-haven

Top photos: show the intensity of the sudden storm

On land things were quite different. The destruction was devastating. Giant trees were uprooted and toppled across parkways and neighboring roads. Debris was everywhere, power lines went down, and electricity was out for over thirty hours.

We returned to our hotel without owning a flashlight or candles… our room was pitch black. We groped around our small room by brail… the windows were in operable. As the room was hot and airless, we were force to sleep with our door wide-open to an eerie dark wilderness. Timidly, we ignored the prospect of nocturnal critters that might invade us at night. (None did.) We were poised to face a second night of airless darkness and fortified ourselves with candles and flashlight, but mercifully, just before nine o’clock, the lights were turned back on.

When we returned to our Motel, one of our resoureful members was not taking a chance with his car... he managed to squeeze it into the walkway

As I was running out of subject matter for this Blog, the storm was a Godsend.

 

Gloucester is a large sprawling community accessed via Virginia route 17, which is bordered by endless mini-mall, convenience stores, billboards and cheap motels, certainly the ugliest road in this part of the State. For a stretch of twenty-five miles there were no alternative routes to the many historic sites we visited in three successive days. 

 

The ruins of Rosewell Plantation are located on Carter Creek near the York River in Gloucester. In its heyday it was an impressive three-story brick mansion built in 1725 by Mann Page 1st, Beatty Cramer’s ancestors. (Dolph’s wife). The house passed on to Governor John Page and was frequently visited by his good friend Thomas Jefferson. It is said that it was intended to rival the Governor’s Palace in Williamsburg. In 1837 it was purchased by Thomas B. Booth who sadly proceeded to dismantle many aspects of the mansion including the lead roof, carved marble mantles and the mahogany wall panels. By the beginning of the 20^th century the house fell into shambles. In 1916 it still had no running water and when a fire broke-out in one of the chimneys, buckets of water had to be carried into the house to try to extinguish it. The heat was so intense that it overwhelmed the rescue efforts and this magnificent mansion was gutted… All that remains today are its four massive walls and chimneys.

Rosewell Ruins

Gloucester Village and Court House is a small remnant of a once thriving 18^th century community. The pre-revolutionary courthouse is still in use today, but sadly it has been architecturally desecrated with a acoustic ceiling, fluorescent lights and other modern trapping.

Gloucester Court House

Every township in the vicinity of Williamsburg wants a piece of the action of Virginia’s grand history. The good folks of Gloucester have usurped the legend of Pocahontas as their own and built a bronze monument depicting her as a sweet teenaged girl, (right out of their local high school) and though we did not see it, they commissioned a 150 foot long mural for the town’s library, depicting the life of this legendary Indian girl.  

 

Pocahontas never lived in Gloucester... but the town fathers erected a monument to her

 

Our last day of touring took us to Historic Jamestown. The Jamestown Settlement Museum turned out to be my favorite, obviously because of my love of boats and ships.  The little harbor had three full-size replicas of the boats on which the original settlers arrived: the Sarah Constant, the Godspeed and the Discovery. The Discovery was the smallest, manned by only twenty men and carrying forty passengers, The Sarah Constant was the largest and very impressive for its detailed replication. For the new settlers, it was a long transatlantic crossing taking four and a half months! The boats were under the command of captain Christopher Newport. They carried one hundred-five men and boys (one died en route) who them became the original settlers of Virginia’s shore. There were no women. Women were recruited in England, some years later, to establish a permanent colony on the shores of the Chesapeake. This colony was a commercial enterprise by the Virginia Trading Company, which was chartered by King Charles to establish the first English settlement. (And incidentally to serve as a bulkhead against Spanish expansion.) The Spaniards had arrived a century earlier with Columbus. It was a get-rich-quick scheme that eventually failed commercially* but established England’s foothold on the new continent.

*The Virginia Trading Company came in quest of gold and trade with the natives, but instead encountered starvation and hostile Indians. It took a hundred years to finally create a favorable trading relationship with the homeland, mostly with tobacco raised and harvested by African slaves.

A beautiful ship's model was exhibit in the museums reception area

Early etchings of John Ssmith and Pocahontas - never lovers, but inseperably linked in history

Jamestown is separated into two entities. The site of the original settlement is a National Park, where they have initiated remarkable archeological discoveries. Extended digs reveal new discoveries almost daily. With painstaking patience, Docents well versed in the local history, explain the recent discoveries and their relevance to the settlements.

An ongoing archaeological dig on the site of the original settlement

the reconstructed barrack for the soldiers and the slim picket-fence that separated the settlers from hostile indians

Jamestown has an impressive time-sensitive museum with panoramic displays. On the grounds of the museum is a recreated Powhatan Indian village. Further down the road, you enter a stockade-enclosed Settler’s village. The two villages were done with astonishing authenticity, including costumed guides ready to explain their early way of life. Finally you end at the docks for a hands-on visit of the three boats hosted by salty sailors answering all your questions. It is a site well worth revisiting.

Top photos: The Godspeed and the Discovery - the two small boats that crossed the Atlantic in four and a half months - Bottom photo: The lead ship Sarah Constant, under the command of Captain Christopher Newport 

The salty sailors and me

 

The official reunion ended without a tour through Historic Williamsburg where the streets are closed to automobile traffic. It was presumed that everyone interested in American history had already been there. After all the 2009ers departed, Chris and I had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon, strolling through Williamsburg and seeing some of the finest Colonial architecture that had been assembled by John D, Rockefeller back in 1926 and moved to what is now Colonial Williamsburg.

 

The most prevelant architectural feature of Williamsburg houses are the dormers on the top floor

The centerpiece of Colonial Williamsburg  is the grandiose Governor's Palace

For a show of the King's power, the palace was decorated with weapons

This was a wonderful week, spent with the most companionable people. I can’t wait for next year’s reunion… if I am invited. (Peter and Mary Bernhardt say I am invited to all future reunions as an exofficio 2009er)

 

EPILOG

 

Joining us late in the tour were two lovely sisters in their Model T Roadster

 

The Dolph Cramer Team - For the next reunion we'll have Dolph back in the driver's seat!

 

Ian Evans and Peter MacAlister, who flew in from England to drive Dolph's Touring car 

and Christopher Eitel, who joined me on the tour and became our invaluable navigator

 

  

John Fatini who drove two thousand miles in a chase car and me, your reporter

Second Installment of the Virginia Model T Tour 2013

The Fourth Reunion of the 2009 Ocean to Ocean in a Model T Tour

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, June 27, 2013

A welcome sign for our thirsty cars

Each successive day brought new destinations and adventures. Here are some of the highlights…

 

There was no grass growing under the feet of these energetic people. The second day we set off at 8:30 in the morning for a drive of over 120 miles through the charming town of West Point, located on a peninsular jutting into the Panunkey River. West Point is one of those architecturally charming places where you could easily imagine living the rest of your life.

 West Port, a quiet, pretty town I could settle in if i didn't have Nantucket

...and for the folks who like to rumage through antique shops, there was this irresistable barn

We drove on to rendezvous in Gwynn’s Island to see Bobby Digg’s antique Ford Garage filled with his collection of Model A Cars; a setting befitting a movie from the 1930s complete with Al Capone and chasing cops. The Garage fitted so seamlessly into the local scenery, that you might easily have stopped there to fill up with Esso gasoline… except Bobby wasn’t pumping!

   

Bobby Diggs' amazing car collection compete with his repair shop and antique gas pump

"Fill 'er up please... the gas tank is under my seat"

From there we continued through lovely lowland country to meet at the Virginia Oyster Seed Holding Company… This visit was a sleeper! We had no idea of the historic importance that the oyster industry meant to the area and had by now, virtually vanished. This company is run in a cluster of non-prepossessing shacks on the bucolic shores of the Chesapeake Bay. It was operated by a small group of young dedicated people. Judy Ambrose was our guide –known by all her friends as Oystermama. She squired us through a high-tech facility that breeds oyster seeds and larvae with scientific precision and hopes someday to restore the Oyster industry. “How long would this take?” we asked. “About one hundred years!”

 

The Chesepeake Bay was oyster country - We didn't have time to visit this interesting Maritime Museum...The entrance had an antique oyster boat inside and out...

Judy Ambrose - the oyster mama to all who now her

Mature oysters ready for mating in the chilled water bins - Thousands gallons of filtered water pour through these bins - a single female oyster can produce one hundred million eggs annually!

Oyster "candy" - algae, the microscopic food oyster larvae feed on, grown in these huge containers

 

What I didn’t know about oysters:

• When they are first hatched they swim like tadpoles for about two weeks… thereafter, they drop to the bottom of the “pond” and attach themselves to whatever hard surface they can find and remain there until harvested.
• Oysters are trans-sexual. They can transform themselves from male to female and when the pickings get slim, go back to being a male. (For dictionary enthusiast this transformation is called hermaphrodites)
• Cold water stimulates their sex drive, so oyster farming is started in a cold environment.
• Oysters take a minimum of four years to mature into an edible delicacy. In a controlled environment, the time can be shortened to two.
• Oysters suck algae for their nourishment and the folks at Virginia Oyster have learned how to synthesize the process.
• When the company sells their little home grown darlings, it is in bundles of millions…. Only about 25% will survive to maturity.

 

Next time you go to a fancy restaurant and are offered oysters on the menu, don’t bitch about the price.

We asked our Oyster Mama if she ate them, “Hell no!” she answered, “They are too slimy!”

 

a beautifully restored Model T convertible at the oyster farm

 

The following day we were supposed to visit the Chippokes Plantation, but it was closed for the day. However, we were able to drive through its acres of rolling farmlands, planted with corn and wheat ready for harvest. What fascinated me most was the great collection of antique farm equipment that rivaled our Model T cars.

Antique farm machinery to rival our Model T's

 

In my final installment I will take you to some of Virginia’s most historic sites on the Chesapeake Bay… and for sheer excitement, will describe our surviving a horrendous storm.

 

 

 

A Week in a Model T Through Historic Virginia

 

The Fourth Reunion of the 2009 Ocean to Ocean in a Model T Tour 

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, June 24, 2013

 

 

This is a map of the territory we explored on our five days of touring the Chesapeake Bay's historic sites 

HISTORY: Ocean to Ocean is a replay of an automobile race held 100 years earlier in 1909. The rally started in New York City and terminated in Seattle Washington. 30 days later. There were 50 cars participating with 49 completing this grueling event. Lesser-known American automobile manufacturers participated touting their luxurious custom-built vehicles: Cadillac, Shawmu, Stearns, and the Italian car, Itala .The race included an upstart, Henry Ford with his mass-produced Model T. He was given little chance of winning … to everyone’s surprise; the T won the race and put Ford on the map… the rest is history.

The 2009 Ocean to Ocean tour started with fifty cars (one for each state in the Union)… forty-nine cars finished the tour!

Each year these robust individuals meet in a different location for their annual reunion. This year they chose Williamsburg, Virginia.

 

What make these reunions so extraordinary are the shared memories of hardship, endurance and the good humor it took to complete this grueling trip… At their closing banquet, they recognize fellow participants for their outstanding contribution to the sport: One was Peter McAcalister, our British friend, who back in 2009, virtually single-handedly, rescued everyone’s car from trivial ailments to major mechanical breakdowns … Other heroes were Mary and Peter Bernhardt, who spent four years conceptualizing this impossible undertaking, and drove twice across the length of the country in search of the original route, destinations, back-roads, Inns, historic sites and then documented them with surgical precision, noting point to point mileage for each day’s destination.

It was a stroke of misfortune that landed me amongst these extraordinary folks in Williamsburg, Virginia… My friend Dolph Cramer was poised to drive his Touring Car from Palm Beach to Williamsburg accompanied by Peter McAcalister and Ian Evans (The two English Model T aficionados, whom you met in my Blog of last year’s “Mellow Tour” of New England June 24, 2012).

 The night before their departure, Dolph fell and broke his hip in a Pizza parlor. … I was invited to substitute for Dolph, providing that I wrote a blow-by-blow description of the tour (this is my feeble attempt at this commitment)

As I am hobbling about on two sticks, my present state of decrepitude makes it difficult to hoist myself into the cockpit of a Model T. An electric scooter is better suited. Nonetheless, I still manage to struggle behind the wheel and reach the floor pedals. So together with my summer intern Chris Eitel, we packed a step stool, a shower seat, a walker, a sit-stick, my computer and sundry electronic connections and set off to meet the gang in Virginia.

I will start by saying that I am an interloper at these reunions and have no right to be hob-knobbing with such a special group of characters. My only bragging rights for tootling along this week was that two years ago, at their Stowe Vermont reunion, Erica and I survived the closed brush with eternity when we stalled and rolling backwards in our ’22 Center Door Sedan without functioning brakes and nearly flipped over the cliff on the steepest hair-pin turn on the notorious Smuggler’s Notch Pass.

It was dusk when we arrived. The courtyard of the Williamsburg Inn was filled with a dozen Fords, beautifully polished “brassies” dating from 1909 to later models built in the twenties… Sitting in sparse rocking chairs were their assorted owners, (Model T-ers are not known for their sartorial splendor)… most were dressed ready to crawl under their vehicles at a minute’s notice with a wrench in hand to stop an oil leak.

 

This is what makes the Model T tick - a simple four cylinder engine that hardly ever fails

We were not exactly greeted with open arms as few people, other than Mary and Peter remembered me (minus Erica) and needed reminding of our previous encounter. However with typical southern hospitality, were warmly welcomed and invited to join in on a bountiful picnic. Our Yankee ears soon became accustomed to their lilting southern drawl.

 

At the first night's reception - From left to right: John Fantini, who flew in from California to faithfully drive the chase-car from Palm Beach to Williamsburg, Virginia, creeping at 25 MPH for seven days. Me sitting on my walker, Ian Evans and Peter McAlister; both flew in from England to drive Dolph's car to the reunion.(Peter and Ian have twice crossed the United States in a Model T.)

Local members carefully plan these reunions and the daily schedules send us off on wild-goose chases over back roads to exciting destinations. Our first excursion was the James River Upstream Tour, approximately 90 miles to Sherwood Forest plantation, the former home of the 10^th President of the United States, John Tyler, which is now owned by his grandson Harrison and Payne Tyler. The Tylers treated us to a very personal tour of their historic home. Mrs. Tyler turned out to be a great fan of my late wife, Erica Wilson, and our conversation quickly focused on the splendid needlework examples in their home. Fortunately for us, the weather held for the day… However, successive days turned out to be appalling. Heavy downpours soaked drivers and passengers in their open touring cars. I was fortunate to be riding in the comfort of an air-conditioned chase car. (Age and decrepitude have their advantage!)

 

Sherwood Forest plantation, the home of President John Tyler, with a gaggle of Model T's

Mr. Harrison Tyler, the grandson of the former President and his wife Payne, welcoming us to their house

A "family" photo taken with the Tylers - The three little girls traveled with us on the entire five-day tour

The prettiest and one of the oldest cars on the tour - Cassel Adamson's 1909 touring car in mint condition

Getting there is half the fun... the first days drive, 90 mile to and from, took us through some of Virginia's most bucolic scenery

We crossed a portion of the Chesapeake Bay via a draw-bridge and returned on a delightful free ferry

The trip was not all  a bed of roses - we encountered horrendous weather and blinding rainstorms

A traffic jam on a back road... and still raining

Finally heading home after a tough day's driving

 

Each successive day brought new destinations and adventures. Look for the next instalment to follow in a few days...

 

 

 

A Sailor's Pass-Time - In Bygone Days

The Nantucket Lightship Basket Museum

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, June 8, 2013

 

Nantucket is a small Island (14 miles long by 5 miles at its widest) located 30 miles out in the Atlantic Ocean: It has a winter population of 10,000 that swells to 60,000 in the two months of summer. Sadly the island also is slowly sinking back into the sea… every year over forty feet of the shore is lost. Houses that once were safely located inshore and are now plunging into the ocean.

On the brighter and safer side, the town of Nantucket is situated in a snug harbor on its North shore. It is a tight little community that supports five museums, several house-museums and numerous institutions dedicated to preserving Nantucket’s history. The Nantucket Historic Association is the umbrella for much of what happens culturally on the Island. One of its properties is The Nantucket Whaling Museum, which is the island’s preeminent showcase with a strong emphasis on its whaling history. We have The Nantucket Shipwreck & Lifesaving Museum, which pays tribute to the heroic men who went to sea at great risk to their own lives to rescue others. There is also a museum devoted to Maria Mitchell: a celebrated 19th Century astronomer. Black history is fêted with the resurrected African Meeting House, the Coffin School is home to the Eagan Institute of Marine Studies, The 1800 House, a meticulously restored old home devoted to the teaching of Nantucket’s homegrown arts such as Sailor’s Valentines, Children’s Crewel Needlework, Carving a wooden Sperm Whale and making a Nantucket Quarter-board  (last year I took a course in making copper weather vanes and am about to embark on a class for building a half-hull model of my sailboat.)

The newest addition to the Island’s museum rostrum is The Nantucket Lightship Basket Museum, which opened in 1994 as an independent institution. Its pocket-size of 1,100 square feet makes it an easy, enjoyable visit...

The Nantucket Lightship Basket Museum

Nantucket Lightship baskets are not your common garden baskets, which nonetheless are an art form in their own right. This little gem of a museum is wholly dedicated to lightship baskets, which have become synonymous with Nantucket. They were first made by sailors doing tedious duty on anchored lightships posted on busy and treacherous sea faring routes. Having to spend four to six months at sea with nothing to do, they passed their time by creating finely woven baskets. They made big ones, small ones, nesting ones by using oak staves and fine cane weaving. Some were signed and dedicated to loved one on shore, others passed into history anonymously. There were many lightships along the Atlantic coast but the Nantucket lightship became symbolic of the genre. This craft would have quietly passed into history were it not for one José Reyes, a Harvard educated transplanted Philippino, who landed on Nantucket's shores after the Second World War. He picked up where the seamen left off by perfecting a lid that transformed everyday workbaskets into ladies handbags. These rather awkward baskets became world famous. To own a Nantucket basket is the ultimate fashion statement on and off the island.

A basket weaver in his studio in the mid-fifties

This month, the museum opened its 2013 summer show entitled “Coming Home,” an exhibit of baskets that had left the Island with their proud owners. Amongst them, baskets owned by Nancy Reagan, Lady Bird Johnson as well as fashion designer Adele Simpson and countless others, some owned by the famous and not so famous. My wife, Erica Wilson owned two, which I designed for her fifty years ago… Her baskets are part of this show.

Erica Wilson's baskets woven by José Reyes with a Nantucket scene, scrimshaw top by Vladimir Kagan and a carved whale ship being stoved-in by a rogue whale carved by Charles Sayle to a design by Vladimir

What distinguishes these simple baskets from each other is the diverse ornamentation of their lids. Some are relief-carved ivory telling individual stories, others are delicately engraved with classic whaling images, flowers, or what ever it took to make "my basket" different from "yours". So guarded are their owners, that I was forbidden to photograph most of them in fear of their unique shape or decoration being copied. An entire cottage industry has been built around this remarkable art.

A square basket with an ivory scrimshawed top - A nest of three baskets

Reyes was not the only weaver on the island. As it became a profitable craft industry other weavers became much sought after. Baskets made by Davis Hall, Bill Sevrens, the Ottisons and other notable weavers are among the baskets on exhibit. Each basket maker developed his or her own distinguished style and shape. Some makers prided themselves on the soft subtle weaving of their cane; other made them stiff and strong. In later years "round" became rather mundane, so oval, square and kidney shapes were added to the repertoire. The scrimshanders and ivory carvers became equally famous with their painstaking art. Nancy Chase is the best known of all of them. My friend, the late Charles Sayle, was sought after equally for his meticulously detailed model boat making as well as his ivory carvings. Charley was the best storyteller on the Island with his salty New England accent… he would regale us for hours as we listened to his tales. In the jargon of the mariners, these sessions were called Gams.

A Whale jawbone scrimshawed by contemporary Nantucket artist, David Lazarus, on display at the Lightsip Basker Museum

The meticulous process of weaving a Lightship basket - note: the bamboo-like sticks on the left are roots of a tropical tree that are carefully peeled into the fine strands to weave the basket.

The slender reeds harvested from the bamboo-like branches.

 

For my readers living on Nantucket, please don’t miss this little Gem of a museum and its current exhibit. For those of you living far afield, this should be just one more incentive to come visit the island… Who knows? You might even run into me making my ship’s model.   

The Seagull and the Fly

In Love with Things that Fly

Copyright Vladimir Kagan, June 2, 2013

 

I must confess that I admire anything that can take wings and fly. What a gift of God! Poor mortals have taken millions of years to duplicate this achievement in clumsy and dangerous devices.

 

I have fallen in love with a common housefly!

 

The first fly of the season. - It is not your cozy love affair. More a mutual admiration society - She only likes me because there are crumbs on the kitchen table - my love runs deeper. I love the hum of her flight - it is truly the first sign of summer. For me, it is not the smell of flowers nor the warming sunshine... it is the buzzing sound that brings back early memories. But that is not the only reason for my love... it is envy! This little creature walks on six legs and if you compare her size to her speed, she is a marathon runner. Not only does she scuttle over my kitchen table, but like a fickle coquet she can hop onto the glass window and walk up its slippery surface with impunity... from there she'll skip to the ceiling and perform her amazing act upside-down! When she gets bored, she'll spread her wings and flies... try to catch her and she will be as evasive as a stealth bomber... Only a fly swatter can stop her in her tracks. I wasn't about to do this... not to the first fly of the season.

 

My real love is birds. Birds of all species. But those that can walk on land and swim in water are my favorite. Sea birds can do all this plus look out of both sides of their head to take in a 180-degree view of the world. – This makes me painfully aware of man’s limitation. If there is reincarnation, I want to be a seagull!

 

Yes, there are sea birds with more beautiful flight; pelicans soar magnificently, but floating in the water or perched on a pier, are quite homely. Swans are truly the bird that man rhapsodizes. But they must fly thousands of miles to find nesting homes only to return to their summer residence a year later. Eagles and hawks are heroic birds that can see a mouse from a mile high and soar without flapping their wings for hours, but they are raptors; that doesn't play well with my Buddhist inclination. Vultures have the most gracious flight of all, soaring for hours on end without flapping their wings… but they are carrion eaters and how ugly they are!

I truly love crows and magpies; their feeding habits are more versatile, from carrion to a farmers seeds.  They are sociable, intelligent, family oriented birds, but they are despised by man. Finally, there are the tropical birds. They are beautiful beyond words but raucous, except as caged birds, they are seldom seen in the wild up here in Nantucket.

A seagull is pristinely white; it flies with elegance in the lightest air or swirls through ferocious storms with acrobatic ease... The seagull lives on what man has discarded and best of all - it is protected. It is decreed that man can do it no harm. Dogs and children may chase it, but a running start will lift it into the air and out of harm’s way. They are grateful creatures. They clean up our beaches, help biodegrade our garbage dumps and through all this remain pristine white. Yes, they are cheeky and will steal you your picnic in a flash while your back is turned. Still, I love seagulls! Their voices are distinctive and beg us to look up at them. They are faithful parents, staying with their young for years. They weather the brutal winters in solitude while other birds fly off to their winter homes.

 

Seagull’s wings have inspired man in his design for flying machines – devices that require noisy, polluting engines to keep aloft. A seagull’s flight is effortless and beautiful.

 

I wannabe a Seagull!