Abracadabra!

Benjamin was an outgoing little boy full of laughter and verve. He was a true entertainer! His family had just moved to the neighbourhood and he was anxious to start school so that he could make some new friends. He loved all living beings, the creepy, crawley, slimey, slithery, furry and feathery beasts! So this new home that bordered Bluegate Pond was a veritable cornucopia of adventure and mystery just waiting for exploration!

The first few times that Benjamin ventured out he had not found anything more than what seemed to be a regular park. It was not until he spotted Andrei one afternoon leaving the overgrown path that he discovered the world of Bluegate. At first, the pond seemed to be nothing more than a local watering hole for a few avian visitors. However, as the days passed and the times at which Benjamin visited the pond varied, he learned more and more about the complex community of the pond. It was dusk on this particular visit and he could see the flittering twinkle of fireflies in the air around him. He closed his eyes and imagined that they were the tiny flecks of magic that had escaped from a sorcerer’s wand…

Have I got a story for you…

E. B. Whyte and Minnie
White Literary LLC [CC-BY-SA-3.0],
via Wikimedia Commons

When I think of how we develop our empathetic beliefs and values about the environment in which we live the stories we are exposed to at a young age are what immediately come to mind. There are various ways in which a story is delivered, but there is nothing like the comfort of a book. Early childhood and middle school years are a significant formative time in our personal history and can be when many of the foundations are developed for one's future conservationist involvement.  

The role storytelling can play an important part in developing, reflecting and shaping the popular perceptions of wildlife concerns, and in young children and middle school aged children this can be delivered through creative non-fiction. If we quickly think of a favourite story most of us may have a childhood book that was read to us, or perhaps we can even recall one of the first books we read on our own. At a young age, the narrative is where children can absorb key concepts and have the freedom to explore their own beliefs by framing the knowledge they consume through their own lens.

The development of a conservation ethic was something that I experienced myself in reading The Trumpet of the Swan by E.B. Whyte.  Many of the stories that I read as a child provided a path toward my own environmental education and my insatiable curiosity to learn about all realms of animal studies. The beauty in developing that hunger for reading is that it is an easily manoeuvrable journey upon which the reader can embark at their own pace and at their own level. Creative non-fiction is regenerative in that it can incorporate central educational goals through the enlivened delivery of an imaginative educational approach.

"Andrea Mantegna 038" by Andrea Mantegna -
The Yorck Project: 10.000 Meisterwerke der Malerei.
DVD-ROM, 2002. ISBN 3936122202.
Distributed by DIRECTMEDIA Publishing GmbH..
Licensed under Public domain via Wikimedia Commons 

With creative nonfiction, this particular genre of storytelling can introduce children to specific environmental concepts and also help them to become ecologically literate. In particular, stories like Watership Down by Richard Adams fostered in me an increased awareness and understanding for human and nonhuman animal conflict related to habitat loss. I very much attribute the stories that I was exposed to as a child as the catalysts to encouraging my engagement in conservation efforts and my bond with other species of this world. There are many ways to learn about associated organisms, ecological processes, and to develop one’s environmental ethic. But the power of the embodiment of ideas through a great story can never be matched… For a few ideas of books you may want to explore please check out this month’s Top 5 List at ICAS for some wonderful children’s titles. 

Mirror Mirror

This week at Beautiful Creatures we continue with the storyline of Flitzen and Schatz which was first introduced in April. When we left Flitzen, she had just escaped Molly and come face to face with Schatz. If you have followed the Alphabeast series you will be familiar with the beginning of this week’s story which is the continuation to Beautiful Creatures’ Mad as a March Hare.

Schatz gazed upon her with gentleness like no other. They were similar in many ways, yet distinctively different. Flitzen was a true Belgian Hare, and Schatz was a Blue-Eyed White Beveren. Flitzen had a very friendly nature but she was easily startled by any sudden change in the auditory or visual shift of her environment. Her long slender body and graceful lines gave her the appearance of a wild hare. She had a deep chestnut red-coloured coat that would catch the rays of sunlight and emanate the warmth of her soul within.

Their first meeting was one for the storybooks as Flitzen’s canine pursuer poked its head into the underground refuge ruffling her tail with its hot breath. As they found each other face to face their twitching noses mirrored the other in the safety of Schatz’s underground hidden world. They were deep enough in the ground that they were safe from the dog but Schatz hopped forward and Flitzen followed closely behind. They had hopped through a short tunnel to Schatz’s cool den beneath the earth and from the heat above ground. Sitting across from the other they closely examined the contrast between their coat, eyes and size… 

When she looked upon Schatz he reminded her of the morning frost with his sparkling white fur that twinkled like the stars of the deep night sky. Although there were several outward differences, Flitzen could feel the parallel rhythm of Schatz’s heart. He was cautious yet warm, respectful and welcoming, deeply loving and calm. Flitzen knew from the moment of their first encounter that he was a rare breed. She was a spirited rabbit but took comfort in the tender voice of a wonderful storyteller and Schatz was the perfect match for her! He was full of energy yet balanced with his calm and laid-back demeanour... He had a delicate charm and subtle shyness that was quite endearing and she knew then and there that she had fallen upon a genuinely authentic soul. This first meeting was an unexpected gift, and Flitzen was immediately drawn to him. Schatz had a deep inner beauty that was so powerful it glowed, lighting up the room and warming her from within. 

He was intoxicating, much like Tom’s belly on a storytelling night… 

Infrasonic

Halfway into her journey Myani was feeling the weight of her emotions as the severed ties between her and Kingsley were becoming more apparent. They had been together at one time during the musth when tenderness and playful interchanges culminated in a bond that she had felt prior to their encounter and which carried on thereafter. Now although bulls may socialise with non-natal family units they were often solitary beings and had few social bonds. In Myani's case, it was an unusual circumstance that had put her in solitary existence, enhancing her deep yearning to be with Kingsley. She was at once the matriarch but the drought years had broken her family apart.

As most herds had a dynamic social system that was fluid relative to social and environmental changes Myani was able to connect with several kin-groups over the years. She had sought new habitats over the seasons but with the years of drought those kin-groups also broke apart maintaining the difficulty to bond deeply. Some of the bonds within a herd would last longer than others and these connections would shift for many different reasons. One of the most recent kin-groups that Myani had merged with had been abruptly separated by human threat.

It was a still night when she heard the low rumble of one of the older females in her kin-group and shortly thereafter the piercing trumpet-blast from young Kanja. It was a scream that she matched with her own powerful trumpet-blast as she tried to rally the herd into mobbing the imminent threat. But it was too late. She was paralyzed in the moment as the memories of her loss of Kivuli came flooding back.

“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” ~Dr. Seuss

There are times in life when we come across the gift of being in the presence of individuals that will inspire one to either take on a challenge, follow our dreams or reignite a previous passion. We usually don’t have the forethought that we will have these uniquely distinct encounters and often we may not even recognise the beauty and deeply rich experience that they offer us in the moment or even shortly thereafter. However, if we take the time to truly embrace the gift that they are in the moment, we can glean from these brief encounters a deep re-enlivening of our psyche. And whilst these moments are often coupled with the painful rupture of their end it is all too common to get caught up in our sadness of their loss rather than the gratitude of their occurrence.

I have been graced with several of these moments, and at different times in life, have like many, been whisked away by the tears of their parting. However, I have always tried to remain bonded to the initial inspiration that they stirred within me and acknowledge the value of the experience they have given me. I am very fortunate to have had such powerful experiences that were an unexpected gift; a wonderful wealth of inspiration that have reignited my own creative passions in life. As I delve back into my stories over the summer holiday I remember the initial catalyst that inspired me to write Beautiful Creatures. Today, as I read through the first draft of my novel, I am equally reminded of all the hardships and comforts that have guided me along my own creative journeys. Each character molded from the knowledge of my own travels through the journeys of life make me eager to re-embark on my quest! I am ever so grateful to have the luxury to embrace this wonderful adventure. Aware of how fortunate I am to have come across those rare individuals that truly support, guide or inspire by the simply beautiful souls that they are themselves, I thank you all. Whether near or far, you live on in my heart and soul and I am eternally grateful for the honour of being inspired by you…

Sharing a breath

When their eyes met in that moment it was hard to maintain her calmness… Their reunification slowly materialised after years apart. She had traveled an unfathomable journey through vast landscapes hoof upon the ground one day to the next and along the paths made from the scars on her heart.

She had not imagined that this would be her initial response, an apprehension, but so much had happened along her travels in life to bring her to this point. It was like she was still within the dream that had kept her alive along the journey that brought her to this final moment. Now side by side, Amore was at peace, and every painful wound of her past fell away with that first moment when they shared a breath. The slow nickering of her excitement of the being reunited with Amado was hard to contain but the flood of her emotions overtook her that first moment that she realised she was home… 

That memory would now be one that would forever haunt her.

This is no Dragon!

Here is just a little blurb from one of the new Beautiful Creatures characters…

It seemed only fitting to share him on Father’s Day!

He was an unusual fellow. His upper body like that of a stone statue kept him cloaked within his ocean habitat as he watched carefully with his eyes that independently investigated his surroundings. The static curvature of his head and body were divergent to the graceful mouvement of his tail as he gently wrapped it around the swaying sea grass.

There were three different herds of his particular kind the Knysna, Swartvlei and Keurbooms. Knysna was the native home of all these herds whereas the Swartvlei and Keurbooms herds were newer settlements. It was the beginning of the summer breeding season and his partner had just transferred her eggs to his pouch. He would carry them for the next three weeks before giving birth to several young. During his pregnancy he would become quite sedentary for weeks at a time. However, his mate would make daily visits to be with him. He loved and looked forward to these circadian encounters which helped to reinforce their bond. Her visits would also ensure that they were reproductively in harmony during the summer months. The diurnal sacred dance with his lifelong mate was his favourite part of the day. They would come together entwining their tails in a gentle union as she would tell him of her happenings since last they had danced together…

Turtle or Tortoise?

If you don't know about Lonesome George... Crawl on over to Alphabeasts...

The Talented Miss Mariska

Her freedom was thanks to her stable mate Mariska. Amore’s spirit was broken when she had been placed in the confines of her stall. Her spirit had been battered to the point that she accepted her imprisoned fate without a struggle. A few years had passed devoid of the companionship of another and she grew accustomed to the routine of the day in the barn. The door would open with the rising sun. A sudden flash of light would blind her as she slowly felt the warm air spill in with the sun’s rays. The clank of the gate was a signal that she would soon have the weight of the saddle upon her and the tightening of the straps before the stirrups felt to her sides. She enjoyed the preparation that happened prior to the discomfort of the gear that made her feel even more trapped, like the hard cold bit that pulled unpleasantly at her jaw.

Today was different… With the clank of the gate she edged forward in anticipation for the grooming that always came before the placement of the riding gear only to be greeted by another horse being escorted into her stall. This new horse was smaller in stature than Amore but far livelier. It was not long before Mariska’s mischievous behaviour had Amore intrigued and reignited her passion for adventure!  

Polar Bear

It happened at the end of March

And finished with a mighty crunch

The drowning of many thousand bears

Their melted homes vanished into air

And if you stood within a hundred miles

You might hear something from the wild

A wind would carry the mournful growl

And prick your ears like something foul

It took days and days and days and days

Until they started washing up on the edge of bays

Their heavy coats and tasseled fur

Bobbed in water like little bergs

And when time had passed in slow repose

Their carcasses indefinable and decomposed

They fed the earth with surreptitious zeal

Their collective wrath would be revealed

It wasn’t until three years had passed

Where bears were but a ghost behind glass

Their image iconic and a reminder of

The ignorance that hadn’t budged

The Arctic White and Ursine Sprite

Worked on potions throughout the night

With tooth of wolf and tail of seal

He crushed and mixed the pasty meal

At last the magical dough rose higher

And he placed it over the open fire

It bubbled and hissed and sighed and wheezed

Until all animation seized

The Sprite cradled the cake in his wiry arms

You could hear him whisper something warm

An eerie melody mixed with a lamenting cry

Some ancient enchanting lullaby

He off-ed his rugged moccasins

Revealing corkscrewed toe-like limbs

And bore them through the icy ground

Offering the cake to the depths beyond

The next morning came like a slap in the face

The day would be filled with our disgrace

As it would every three years

And eventually be penned the ‘Ursine Fear’

The spell that had been cast succeeded

And into water the souls retreated 

The vengeance came without a notice

And water was the bear’s new hostess

And what will follow may seem implausible

But we all know that nothing’s impossible

Where water lived and flowed and dripped

A darkness lurked and skulked and sipped

The events that unfold in no particular succession

Are true accounts or near impressions

Of what some people may have witnessed

They may appear grisly, startling and twisted

A rainy day, buckets to say the least

And puddles appeared as large as the beasts

That resided in the mirrored fluid

Who could have guessed what had ensued

Claws came crashing through the miniature tarns

The hirsute trunks and stiffened arms

Grabbing people nationwide

Transporting them to the ‘other side’

In baths and sinks and old skating rinks

Where water ruled and things could sink

From seas and lochs and ponds and streams

One could hear the shrieks and screams

The bears return was no good tiding

In every droplet they were hiding

And if you looked in the waters’ eye

You would see the bear alive with ire

You would not have a second chance

Even if you looked askance

They’d take you in a giant hug

And flatten you into a rug

No remorse was ever given

To the elderly, the sick, the children

In droves the bears would seek revenge

And as quickly as it began it ended

Thousands of bodies taken by force

An antithesis of Nature’s course

And every three years forever more

The Bear would return to settle the score

By: Antoine Boissonneault

As we near World Environmental Day I wanted to share a poem written by my wildly talented brother Antoine which highlights the polar bear, a Beautiful Creature that most of us will never see in their natural habitat. 

All about bunnies...

Come to Alphabeasts this week and learn more about Flitzen and Schatz!

Her curiousity was both a gift and in the end a curse…

“Your mother was a daredevil” was how Seymour introduced William to the story of his parents.

When Neo and Mandisa first arrived at Bluegate they were completely out of their element. Neo quickly connected with some of the local dragonflies but the wild stories of adventurous migrations segregated them both from the others. Neo was a great storyteller, much like Tom, but it was hard to believe that a mere dragonfly could make of such fantastic journey. Just their own adventure to the pond stirred disbelief among the Bluegate community…

Neo and Mandisa both remained motionless among the shipment of bananas when the blast of light cut through the darkness of the crate. They had been imprisoned for two days. The air was different in this new environment. Neo flicked his wings and was the first to emerge. There was a lot of hustle and bustle in this shiny metallic milieu where a whole new breed of slow-movers populated the space. Cautiously, Mandisa followed Neo’s lead. Flashes of light gleaned off the shiny triangles wielded by the slow-movers as large vividly colourful shapes were transformed into little multi-coloured squares. The broader surroundings of the room were similar to the packing shed where Mandisa and Neo had raced a few days back. But the atmosphere was thick. Neo noticed the light at the one side of the room and the current of air that flowed in from that direction aerating the room ever so slightly.

“Follow me” he said.

Neo and Mandisa darted through the reflective room until they breached the threshold into the sunlight. They were face to face with a brick wall that dripped with foliage. 

Neo darted toward the sky and hovered above Mandisa. Nothing but greenery and what seemed like multiple packing sheds. Where had they ended up?  

Tail Feathers

This week at Alphabeasts, the Resplendent Quetzal (Pharomachrus mocinno)...