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Birding and nature-related poetry response writing by Jim Gilbert
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8-2-07 ~ Reflection on a walk at Smith Lake Sitting
beneath a spruce,
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"It's a Bohemian Waxwing Moment" in Memory of my teacher,mentor, and friend, Doug Schamel. By Jim Gilbert I pulled into my favorite parking spot at the University, looked up at the spreading full-fruited branches of a chokecherry tree and was awestruck by a flock of incredibly beautiful crested birds feeding right in front of me. After these stunning birds flew off, I ran to Doug Schamel--my mentor, my instructor and my "bird guy" for help identifying the birds. Rather than telling me "the answer" he offered instead a bird reference book as a stepping stone on the path before me. "That is a great description! You know enough to answer this question yourself. Let me know what you find!" he smirked. What I found was a new path of inspiration, a new life passion and a lifelong admiration of the Bohemian Waxwing. Doug saw my joy in birding, in learning, in sharing my learning with others and capitalized on it. By example, Doug taught me the magic found in setting others up to explore and claim discoveries for themselves. It was Doug who encouraged me to go into teaching. Teaching has become far more than a job for me; it has become a most rewarding way of life. It was a drain of soul for me when my mentor in teaching, in science and in birding suddenly died. Doug's impact on me continues to be profound. After he died, I shared my admiration and respect of Doug with my students, his "grandstudents," perhaps as much to help me process the emotional impact as to share my mentor with them. I told them how infuriatingly stingy he was with answers. How he chose instead to set the next stepping stone before me leading toward my curiosity. They quietly absorbed what I shared about Doug's impact in my life and the way he taught me to teach. One of my students, a seven year old girl, looked me in the eyes and said quietly, "Mr. Gilbert. That is exactly what you do. Sometimes you are so...infuriating! But I do find out what I wanted to know." When I hear a student growl something about "infuriating" I close my eyes returning to a time when I had felt the very same way. Doug was smiling behind his beard as he watched me set off with his bird book in my hand. I couldn't help but smile at this connection with Doug. Seeing my smile, a colleague asked what had tickled me. I grinned wider, replying only, "It's a Bohemian Waxwing moment!"
Thin and gaunt, standing boldly against the pale blue sky like parade rows of soldiers, their golden shawls fall forgotten bright
splashes in the crisping snow. Birch trees rise toward the stars motionless as if holding their breath above me while I walk alone in the dimming eve wishing my hand was warm in yours, thumb brush zinging electric
arrows into my soul. Branches reaching lonely outstretched arms frozen in wistful hesitation across the face of the moon. Do you walk alone at night too?
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8-22-06 ~ a flock of cranes heading out caught me on the way to work... Sandhill cranes circling higher Then turning away Toward warmer climes A contrail of legs and feet Reluctantly waving Good bye to Alaska.
Moon's gilding glow lays Thin light over rain-dripped leaves As laughter in a raindrop's eye it plays
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8/17/05 I
heard you faintly call and held still It
is an aching sadness I
wish I too could fly, I
watch you go without blinking but, at the last,
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