These Birds Have Flown

Update on the little baby birds we were caring for: Both of those fluffy birdies have grown up, become frustrated adolescent birds and flown the nest. Success!

The Birds

Last Saturday the kids on the island found a baby bird on one of the paths. We've all been taking care of it ever since - feeding it hamburger and water, trying to teach it to fly, and keeping it out of the jaws of Kitty and Sophie.On Wednesday morning I commented that I hoped the bird wasn't getting lonely all by itself in her little box, and then as I was walking to lunch, I saw Sophie walking slowly and stealthily toward one of the pine trees outside the lodge. Thinking she was after one of the elusive squirrels, I glanced up at the tree to see where it was, but didn't see a furry grey animal anywhere.

I heard something chirping, but didn't think much of it until I looked by the base of the tree and saw a second little baby bird. I swooped down between Sophie and the bird, pick the little terrified thing up, and brought it to our bird box.

Together they make quite a happy little Phoebe Family.

Don's 29th

On Sunday night, the island celebrated Don Beane's birthday. (I think it was his 29th...) Amanda C. made a chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting and crumbled Reese's. I didn't actually have a piece, but it looked divine. After a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday", the Tucker clan sang a great birthday song that shook the rafters and a left a smile on everyone's face.

Mr. Tucker dressed especially festively for occasion -- but no extravagance should be spared when it comes to Don Beane. (And, personally, I love the jacket and bow tie).

A special thanks goes out to Lisa Tucker for the photograph. It is such a happy moment!

Honduran Lizard

One day, while taking a much needed water break, I looked down and there was a lizard on a wooden beam by my feet. I took out my camera, zoomed way in, got as close as I could, and just as I was about to take the picture, its neck flared out, giving me this shot:

Honduras, Part 1

In April of this year I spent two weeks in Honduras, in the Santa Barbara Mountains, building a house for a family in the small town of El Playon. I was traveling with a group from southern Maine through an organization call the Maine Honduras Partnership.

The trip was amazing. We spent our days building the house out of cement blocks, visiting the people of the town, and playing with the children. We attended church multiple times, and ate meals with the pastor’s family. One day, we were able to take a break from the hard work and visit a hot spring and swim in the nearby river. It was such a surprise to be able to go swimming! There were rocks for jumping and little rapids for floating and many swimming holes.

The most frustrating aspect of the trip was the language barrier. I know zero Spanish, and the people of El Playon know no English. Even so, we were able to communicate through sign language and facial expressions, and it did help that one of the people traveling with us speaks fluent Spanish. By the end of my time there, I was able to understand much, much more than I could speak, and it was so rewarding to be able to listen to a conversation and actually know what was being said. Once I started understanding, I wanted to respond, and so I'd start speaking the only foreign language I know, which is French. I'd usually get about halfway through a sentence before I would realize that even though I wasn't speaking English, French wasn't any better -- people still couldn't understand me.

The absolute best part of the whole experience however, was watching the children, and even adults, open up to us as the week progressed. As I got to know the people of El Playon better and better, I started to realize that these people, even though they have very little, have some of the biggest hearts of anyone I have ever met. They allow us to infiltrate their lives and their homes and schools. They want to spend time with us, to teach us their language, and to learn ours. They have so little, and yet, the smiles on the children of the village are some of the most open and sunny to ever be smiled.

The last night we were in El Playon, we threw little fiesta with a fire and music, and that night, a mother and a girl named Feby each gave me a ring. These gifts mean so much – in both cases, the ring was a prized possession, and to be honest, I don’t feel I deserved such an honor. The point is, these people have so little, and yet they appreciate what we do so much that they feel we deserve to wear their jewelry. Receiving the rings was incredibly humbling, and I felt so honored and blessed to be deemed worthy of such a gift from such wonderful, open, loving people.