Letters to My Wild Kin: Cardinal Fledgling June 7, 2020

By Shawn Smith

Hello little one! What a blessing to meet you. Did I startle you as much as you did me? I’m sitting so close to you because for days I’ve been trying to photograph your parents. They’re too fast, or I’m too slow - maybe both? Anyway, I’ve been watching them feverishly zig-zag around the food system, which looks more like the Amazonian rainforest than a Vermont agroforestry installation. They zoom from the willow to the pear, then to the compost bin, back to the kiwi vine, over to the black locust, a stopover at the elderberry shrub and finally back to the willow to take a breath. It warms my heart to see them thriving in the protective canopy of our perennial polyculture and low-no mowing pattern. I actually thought one of them was you, but clearly I don’t know my Cardinal gestation and fledging timeline - how embarrassing. What’s been a little confusing to me is that both of them look to be about half the size when I first met them back in April. I guess hatching and feeding you is keeping them lean.

You, on the other hand, are an incy-wincy bundle of cuteness. I can’t believe you hung around as I came toward you, taking a seat barely a foot away from you. Could you sense I was your friend? Your kin? Had I not ventured out to the stonewall with the hopes of capturing your parents I would never have met you. The elderberry shrub you’re hunkered down in is blowing all over the place, is it hard to hold on with those little talons? I can’t believe you’re just staring at me, seemingly unafraid — more curious than anything. You’re not crying or trying to move away. Why? Your parents, however, are not happy with me. I should go, and let them get back to the business of feeding you without my intrusion. Thanks for letting me capture all these amazing pics of you. What wonderful parents you have, I see them working hard and constantly to keep you fed and safe. Welcome to SHO, little kin. I hope we meet again. I’d love to watch you grow, learn to fly and dart around like your parents.

May you be happy, healthy and free of suffering. And may your parents get some rest soon! Lots of love

Letters To My Wild Kin: Female Cardinal

By Shawn Smith

There you are, gorgeous sister.  What a wonderful surprise to see you on this chilly, cloudy, rainy morning.  Yesterday I caught a glimpse of you and your handsome mate.  Tried as I did, you two moved far too swiftly for me to click the camera.  From the air traffic, seems you are in very good feathered company.  Let’s see…..Robins, Black-capped Chickadees, Blue Jays, Sparrows….all busily feeding and building nests.  In the distance, like planes in a holding pattern, I see crows and ravens.  Where did you go? —— Oh, there you are. Ha.  False excitement, uh?  The shriveled crabapples got your attention.  Too tart? Or, too difficult to pluck free?  Caught a photo of you with a tiny green bud, glad the tree offered you something - even if only an appetizer.  You are so studious, assessing each fruit laden branch, definitely strategizing your movements.  I love how you cock your head side to side, just as I would in selecting my fruit of choice.  Will you and your mate be parents this season?  I do hope you won’t mind me and my camera, for it brings me joy to connect with you this way.   You’re off.  Well, I guess I should be too.  Welcome to SHO, sister.  Be safe out there.  I’ll see you around.  All my love.  

Letters To My Wild Kin: Garter Snake

By Shawn Smith

How to say goodbye when we never had a chance to say hello?  I don’t know, I don’t know, oh brother and sister, I don’t know.  This question has occupied my heart and my mind over the past week since I found you, still, cold, gone from your physical bodies.  Yours were lives taken in vain.  I am heartbroken by your deaths.  I am angry by how it happened.  I am committed to doing everything I can to prevent it from happening again, though it will be difficult.  Your size tells me you’ve been in the world longer than just a few weeks.  I wonder if you overwintered here at SHO?  And if you did, then you survived a long, cold, snowy winter.  Which means you met your untimely passing while basking in the glorious warm sun of these early spring days.  The dirt in which you coiled yourselves, perfectly positioned to feel the heat from the ground and the sky, must have seemed an inviting and safe space for you — of course it did, why wouldn’t it?  What you did not understand is that for us humans that space served as a passage, our driveway.  The driver of the vehicle, who it was — and I do not pretend to know — was going too fast.  Too fast to save your lives.  Too fast for coexistence with other wild kin.  Too fast for the pace of life at SHO.  From afar, your still bodies could easily be mistaken for a tree branch.  But that it no excuse.  Motorized vehicles are a danger to you and all wild kin - both on and off SHO.  And so, in your honor and memory, my vow is to help other humans slow down, give pause to our wild kin, and cherish the privilege of peaceful coexistence.  There is no need for us humans to move through life with the speed and distraction that we do.  Only I know where your bodies are laid to rest, not that it matters any longer - but you’re safe to return to the Earth, tucked under leave debris under a tree.  The sound of a babbling brook is nearby, and songbirds singing echoes from sunrise to sunset.  I’m so very sorry.  I wish you a happy and healthy next life.  Until we meet again, much love. 

Letters To My Wild Kin: Fox

By Shawn Smith

Dear Red Fox.  What brings you to the farmstead today, of all days?  The ground is peppered by fleeting snow, the temperature frigid, the wind brisk, the sky gray.  You, or your kits, must be hungry to brave these conditions.  My camera lens has the power to pull you in close to my eye, and thus to my heart.  Friend, I can see that you feel the elements.   With each gust of wind I see your eyes squint, I’ve felt the same and know the sensation.  Against the white ground your red and black fur is magnificent.  I’m in awe of how well-groomed you appear, for your candid cousins who share my home are embarrassingly blowing their coats and look a mess.  I notice you’re attracted to the piles of duck hay, I imagine they have been winter homes to the voles, mice, rats and others who also call SHO home.  I admit I’m relieved that the ducks decided to stay inside the barn today, of course unaware that you’d be visiting.  Oh….you seem to have been successful in your quest for food.  Of course, I’m torn.  So happy that you are now fed, but equally sad to know another wild kin has lost its life.  The pulse of ecosystem balancing is threaded by peace and suffering, joy and pain.  As I watch you head back toward the protection of the trees, I wonder when I’ll see you again.  I hope you stay safe, well fed, and protected in the shelter of SHO.  Know that you and yours are loved and always welcomed.  Please give us and the ducks respect as we extend the same to you and your kin.  Be well, friend.  Until we meet again, much love.  

Letters To My Wild Kin: Male Cardinal

By Shawn Smith

Hello beautiful brother. I saw you for the first time several weeks ago. I couldn’t believe it, you’re the first Cardinal I’ve met in my 10 yrs at SHO Farm. Why did you come here? Could it be you caught word that we are a safe harbor for feathered and furred kin? I’m heartened to see you have a mate. As gorgeous as you, she is much harder to spot with her quieter shades of gray. I hope to have camera in hand when you two perch together. You are big in color, but quite small in body — quick, agile, aerially acrobatic. Does that help you evade larger brethren like Blue Jays, Crows, Ravens? I could watch you endlessly, but the day doesn’t allow. The vines on which you perch outside my office window will fill with broad leaves and sweet kiwi fruit - indulge, for they are nature’s candy in this cold-climate we call home (leave a few for us, please). I wish you safety, happiness and much love. Know we cherish your presence, that you and your loved one are revered by those of us here sharing ecosystem with you. See you around, brother. Metta Qi.