I really shouldn’t have taken this photograph. But when an alert came in that a lone American White Pelican had landed on Lake Shenandoah, I had to go see it and take some photos.
Given the results, I’m glad I did, but I wish I hadn’t. I was diagnosed with acute bronchitis the previous day and was prescribed four different medications. I took them as directed and slept well.
When the rare bird alert appeared just after 8 a.m., my birding adrenaline kicked in. I finished my meager breakfast, checked the radar, and found no rain.
So, I headed east six miles to the state-owned lake. It misted all the way. The closer I got to the lake, the more menacing the sky appeared. I hadn’t walked 20 yards from my vehicle when the rain began in earnest.
I passed another birder friend who said the pelican was just floating in the middle of the lake. So, I hustled to the fishing dock, and there it was. But the fog and rain made it difficult to photograph.
Still, I got several shots, but being a typical photographer, I wasn’t happy with the results. I should have turned back to my SUVs and headed home. Instead, I stayed, got wetter by the minute, and took photo after photo.
This is the best one of the series.
American White Pelican. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Why this bird was here alone, no one knows. American White Pelicans usually migrate from northern climes this time of year in large flocks to southern locations. This individual clearly got lost.
Today is a beautiful, warm autumn day when I should be out taking photos of the annual changing of the leaves. Instead, having learned my lesson, I’m behaving myself and staying put.
When I saw this American Robin splish-splashing one morning in a backyard birdbath, I thought of Bobby Darin’s 1958 hit “Splish, Splash.” I hadn’t heard that song in a long, long time.
The rock and roll song reached number three on the US Billboard Charts. Bobby, whose real name was Walden Robert Cassotto, wrote the song along with Murray Kaufman.
Click the link if you want a musical trip back in time.
American Robin taking a morning bath. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Nearly 80 years of living have taught me how valuable strong, wholesome relationships are. As a youngster, I learned that family comes first, followed by close friends.
Growing up in a neighborhood of baby boomers taught me the importance of having caring, trustworthy pals. The importance of proper socialization stuck with me.
I’ve tried to carry those lessons throughout my life and into retirement. Healthy bonding relationships create a twofold effect for me. I feel better physically and emotionally.
As we age, we need nurturing relationships that sometimes require a certain vulnerability. It’s important to be open to every opportunity to connect and reconnect. That can happen through planned meetings or a spontaneous encounter at a restaurant, or even on vacation.
For me, it means incorporating my gifts and abilities with those of others. I enjoy writing, so I facilitate a monthly Zoom writing group with creatives in their 70s, 80s, and 90s. We each read a piece, and the listeners offer supportive comments and share ideas for improvement, or even suggest taking the story in a different direction. We also laugh a lot, and sometimes cry.
Surrounding yourself with like-minded people, especially as you age, is critical for retirees. An occasional nature walk in a local arboretum with folks who share my interests keeps me refreshed and uplifted.
A Tiger Swallowtail butterfly along a hiking trail. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Even as older folks, using our five senses lets us keep learning and growing. I try to listen more than talk. I enjoy hearing others’ stories and how they handled situations similar to what I’ve experienced.
I belong to a local birding club that holds regular outings. I attend as often as I can, not only to find migrating birds, but also to learn techniques for properly identifying bird species. Fall warblers, dressed in their drab colors, are difficult for me to identify. My birding friends eagerly show me how to tell a fall Cape May Warbler from a Bay-breasted one.
My wife and I belong to three different small groups, two of which meet monthly and always with food. We take turns hosting, and everyone contributes to the modest feast. One group is intergenerational, with ages ranging from infants to grandparents.
Two of the three groups are both comprised of seniors. It’s easy to share our latest aches and pains as we age, but once the simple meal is finished, we get down to business by answering a pre-assigned prompt individually. We discuss current events, memories from our formative years, and issues we need advice on. Serious or playful, the conversations are rewarding.
At a church retreat. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Hearing others’ experiences and perspectives broadens my thinking. It helps me better understand a point of view different from my own. That enhances and nurtures my life.
During the COVID-19 restrictions, we Zoomed every other week with my wife’s sister and four cousins, who were like brothers and sisters growing up. We enjoyed the camaraderie so much that we’ve continued monthly Zooms, since we live in different states.
My wife also Zooms monthly with college friends, all of whom graduated in the early 1970s and are scattered across the country. Those strong connections have led to in-person gatherings and even vacations together.
My wife and I spent a few days in Maine last summer with one of those lifelong college friends. The sound of ocean waves crashing lulled us to sleep while the pastel light of the rising sun awakened us at 4:30 a.m. We walked along the shore at low tide and ate fresh lobster on the dock in a quaint cove.
Weeks later, we visited the same friend in Baltimore, Maryland. She was a perfect host. On the hottest day of September, we toured a massive second-hand store and then a railroad museum. In the evening, we attended a baseball game at Camden Yards. We enjoyed our time together despite my Cleveland Guardians’ loss.
My wife of 55 years has many useful and creative gifts, but the greatest is hospitality. She loves hosting friends, family, and new neighbors for meals and fellowship. A young couple moved next door from New Mexico. Of course, my wife invited them for dinner, and they stayed for four hours. The conversation freely flowed, and they soon returned the favor.
Friends occasionally visit us from other states, especially from our home state of Ohio. They are enchanted by Virginia’s bucolic Shenandoah Valley, where we moved nearly a decade ago to be close to our daughter and her family.
We enjoy escorting visitors around our small city and the surrounding agricultural countryside. Shenandoah National Park borders our county to the east, and each visitor finds the park as remarkable and awe-inspiring as I do.
On one recent visit by Ohio friends, we met another couple who helped us locate and identify tiny but beautiful flowers we would have missed. The pesky gnats and cloud-enshrouded mountains couldn’t diminish our pleasant adventures.
The same results occur when we visit our son, his wife, and their young son in upstate New York, or when we return to our beloved Holmes County, Ohio, where we lived among the Amish for nearly four decades.
We moved to Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley to be close to our daughter and her family. Those 10 years have flown by as we watched our grandchildren grow and mature. We followed them from T-ball to college baseball, attended piano recitals, band concerts, high school musicals, and volleyball games.
Packing bags of food for children. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We find great comfort and connection with others as we not only worship, but also participate in activities that involve community members. My wife volunteers at a thrift store once a week, and we both help pack and distribute food for food-insecure families at a local elementary school.
Of course, life challenges us physically as we age, so we exercise regularly and are mindful about what we eat and how much we eat. We make regular checkups with doctors and appointments with physical therapists as needed.
At our age, hardships occur too often for friends and family. Empathy and compassion help soothe the emotional pain we encounter.
Traveling has been an eye-opener for us, and we wish we had done more when we were younger. But we can only move forward in life and enjoy and learn from the trips we do take, whether by car, plane, or cruise.
My wife and I feel most grateful for our families and the many friends we have. Their love and support shower us with kindness and appreciation, whether they live next door or in another state or country.
Relationships flourish when we nurture them with compassion and openness. Their unconditional inclusion keeps us engaged and going.
In all of this, if I have learned anything in life, it’s that we are all one human family. Even amid differences, accepting others doesn’t mean agreeing with them. Instead, heartfelt connections count.
At this age, that’s exactly how I desire my life experiences and human interactions to add up.
A puffy white cloud August day. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
When I rose for my morning walk around the neighborhood, it was 47 degrees outside. On August 25!
As I walked in the early morning coolness, I thought more about how this August had been so different in the eastern U.S. The eighth month of 2026 here in Virginia’s lovely Shenandoah Valley has been anything but normal weatherwise.
August behaved normally the first nine years of living here after moving from Ohio’s Amish country. Year after year, August’s sun beat down, and the humidity overwhelmed you.
Usually, large cracks in the hardened, red soil zigzagged like spider webs. The parched grass crunched beneath your feet, devoid of any moisture for days, even weeks on end. Not this year.
Our burned-out backyard in 2020. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Apparently, August masqueraded as April. A few spring flowers bloomed again. With storm after storm, some locales measured inches of rain. A few areas even experienced tornadoes, a rarity in Virginia, with property damage and power outages. Fortunately, no injuries or deaths were reported.
Even then, the area remains abnormally dry, according to the U.S. Drought Monitor. That’s how dry the early weeks of summer were.
Though we didn’t realize it at the time, summer’s dog days fell in June and July. Haze filled the bucolic valley, significantly obscuring the view of the mountains to the east and west.
Strong winds in a severe thunderstorm damaged our Red Maple tree. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
With August’s arrival, puffy white clouds sailed through deep blue August days. When school began again, students donned jackets while waiting for the school bus. They still wore shorts, however.
Instead of parched yards, lawns grew and grew, sometimes requiring mowing twice a week. It was a cash cow for high schoolers mowing lawns.
Unfortunately, the states to the south and west, clear to the Pacific Ocean, blazed and baked under record-high temperatures, extreme heat warnings, and massive wildfires. High winds spread small fires into thousand-acre conflagrations in minutes.
It wasn’t just the U.S. either. Europe and Canada shared in the record heat, dryness, and wildfires. Homes were destroyed, and firefighters were hard-pressed to contain the raging wildfires. The fires spread so rapidly around Las Vegas, Nevada, that residents escaped with only the clothes they wore. Passengers on European river cruises were inconvenienced by having to deboard for buses because the water was so low.
August’s weather has been a double-edged sword. Upper-level winds carried wildfire debris far from the fires’ origins, resulting in air quality issues for millions of folks. That also created glowing, golden sunrises and sunsets as a trade-off for the undesirable smoky smells.
A hazy sunset over the Allegheny Mountains. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
At the same time, people appreciated the coolness, especially in the morning. Those on their daybreak exercise in my neighborhood have been wearing jackets and sweatshirts instead of T-shirts.
Of course, the regularities of August are still with us no matter the weather. Crickets and katydids lull us to sleep. Monarch, Tiger Swallowtail, Spangled and Variegated Fritillaries, and Pipevine butterflies flit from flower to flower, occasionally stopping for a photo op.
The avian fall migration has begun in earnest. I’ve successfully chased Swallow-tailed Kites and Mississippi Kites, both species far north of their normal range. Warblers and other songbirds have joined them in their quest for appropriate food absent in northern climes in the colder fallow seasons.
Conversely, folks in the southwestern U.S. have been baked in consecutive 100-degree-plus days, weeks in some places. Those are abnormal temperatures for August, even for those areas.
Clearly, geographic location has played a major role in the weather one has experienced this August. That’s the way weather rolls.
Despite the storm-damaged maple tree in my front yard, I’m very thankful we were in the cooler zone of August’s many vagaries.
The bucolic Shenandoah Valley. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
I went out in search of some rare birds for the Shenandoah Valley: Mississippi Kites. Unfortunately, a storm front quickly moved across the Appalachian Mountains and into the valley.
Fortunately, as the storm clouds built, they were north of me a few miles. Unfortunately, that’s where the birds had been sighted. The sun beat upon my back as I trudged through the farm field for a better view of the small valley below me.
With the Kites nowhere in sight, I turned my attention to the cumulonimbus clouds moving rapidly northeast. The late afternoon sun brightly illuminated them. Shortly after taking this photo, the National Weather Service issued a Severe Thunderstorm Warning for those in the path of the storm.
That’s the way of bird watching. You go in search of one thing, and end up photographing something entirely different, but equally inspiring.
You never know what you’ll happen upon in nature. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
We live in a stress-filled world with lots of artificial noise, annoying distractions, societal expectations, and short deadlines. There are ways to escape the madness, even if only temporarily.
In my almost 79 years of living, I have made a habit of escaping much of life’s static by getting away. Even in retirement, I feel life’s stresses.
Hiking and bird watching are two excellent ways to forget all of the activities that clutter our lives, especially with 21st-century technology constantly hounding us. Combining exercise with enjoyment helps strengthen my body, foster mindfulness, and recharge my spirit for living.
I add in a third complementary hobby: photography. Snapshots of my outings document where I have been and what I have seen. Then I can share the treasures I have found with others, which only enhances the joy of the experience.
Poet Mary Oliver taught us to “pay attention, be astonished, tell about it.” During my treks, I put this poetic advice into practice. I marvel at a pair of Swallow-tailed Kites foraging for insects over a recently mown field. Walking through a tunnel of blooming Mountain Laurel along the Appalachian Trail stops me in my tracks.
A Swallowtail Kite. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
A blogger friend of mine who frequents Georgia’s Okefenokee National Wildlife Refuge does so for solitude and renewal by kayaking among alligators. Finding renewal in nature is a personal preference. Making the effort to enjoy the outdoors is what counts.
Recent studies have proven what author Wendell Berry has always known: “For a time, I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.” One study “found evidence for associations between nature exposure and improved cognitive function, brain activity, blood pressure, mental health, physical activity, and sleep.” Another research paper focused on the health benefits of nature in urban areas.
These studies show that everyone, everywhere, should commune with nature. It can be a morning walk in your neighborhood or a long-distance bicycle ride. I walk frequently in our suburban neighborhood in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. The melodious bird calls and the fragrance from well-attended flower gardens combine to energize my steps.
I find Berry’s grace under the shady canopy of towering trees, among stands of colorful wildflowers, while viewing wildlife big and small, and in forever mountaintop vistas. So, whether with friends or solo, I enjoy nature in her many forms. Being retired allows me to do so as time allows.
I keep a steady pace until I spot something pretty or intriguing. I pull out my smartphone and photograph it. That documents the time and place to reinforce my memory. It might be another opportunity to share it as well.
I belong to a local bird club, so I can follow up on any rare bird alerts as I can. I don’t always find the bird in question, but I’m not disappointed. I often encounter other birders in search of the same species. We commiserate and share other birding adventures we’ve had. New friends are made in the process.
I’ll occasionally join a scheduled bird hike in a city park or even in Shenandoah National Park 40 miles away. Having multiple pairs of eyes scanning the sky and peering through thickets and woodlots enhances all our chances of seeing a special bird.
I have the privilege of mentoring a high school junior from our church. He also happens to enjoy bird watching, so we occasionally venture out with small groups or another mentor-mentee pair to enjoy the hiking, camaraderie, and all we encounter along the way.
Impatient with our septuagenarian pace, the trustworthy teens forge ahead, exploring on their own. Once, they encountered an unfamiliar rock scramble and rushed back to us, realizing they had missed the turn.
I am most free to enjoy the flora and fauna when I go alone. I travel at my own leisure, stopping to photograph bees and butterflies on flowers, unusual rock formations, and birds if I can spot them in the dense foliage.
After hiking to a majestic overlook in the Blue Ridge Mountains, I rest a spell, partly to regain my energy and catch my breath, but mostly to inhale the view. The quiet has its rewards: a doe grazing with her fawn, Red-tailed Hawks and Turkey Vultures soaring on thermals with puffy white clouds sailing high overhead in the cerulean sky, a Timber Rattlesnake soaking in the sun on a limestone outcropping.
Hydration and nourishment with water and snacks are essential, especially when hiking at higher altitudes. With binoculars hanging from my neck and a camera slung on my shoulder, a pair of walking sticks keeps me steady even on the rockiest of terrain.
Spending time in nature provides many benefits, especially for seniors as we age. It helps improve cardiovascular health and sleep, and reduce inflammation in the body, according to this study by the Elder Care Alliance. My family physician tells me “to keep moving,” so I do.
The essence of being in nature with the wild things gives me all the peace I need. With no signal in remote areas, the cellphone never interrupts.
With the sun behind this bird, it may be hard to discern the species. But birders use other clues to identify birds when conditions prevent seeing the bird directly.
When I cleared a hill on a gravel road, I didn’t spot this Eastern Kingbird right away. I stopped my vehicle as smoothly as I could without skidding on the loose gravel.
First, I noted the bird’s size. Secondly, its posture was distinctive for an Eastern Kingbird. In addition, the habitat was right for this species. Eastern Kingbirds love open, weedy fields, which were behind the bird, with trees nearby, which were on the east side of the road.
The white feathers at the tip of its tail were another field mark. When you are birding, you have to take the shots you are given and be happy with that.
As a photographer, I was happy with the composition of this shot, despite the strong backlighting.
I snapped this photo of a Red-tailed Hawk soaring on a thermal over a fallow farm field. I never saw the Turkey Vulture that photobombed the image until I checked the photo on the camera’s back screen.
Both bird species are common in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley, one of the leading agricultural counties in the Commonwealth. Most farms supplement their grain and hay crops with milk cows, beef steers, and especially poultry barns.
Consequently, there are plenty of food supplies for both the hawks and the vultures, with dead carcasses sometimes hauled to the back 40 acres for disposal. Deer/vehicle collisions are also common, providing more opportunities for nature’s natural scavengers to feast to the full.
Two birds with one shot. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
The angle of the seemingly interconnected wings of the two birds also intrigued me. Of course, with the Red-tailed Hawk higher than the sailing vulture, the large black bird was no threat to the Buteo jamaicensis.
One of the beaches at Reid State Park, Georgetown, Maine. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
Reid State Park lies a mile across the bay from the cottage where we stayed. To get there by car, we drove seven miles.
The park serves as an access to the ocean for the general public. It also stands as a stark reminder of Mainers’ desire to preserve and protect their precious and lovely coastline from too much commercial development.
Diana, our host, wanted us to experience the park the way other visitors do. It was also an opportunity for a wider perspective of the Atlantic Ocean than what we could see from her cottage in the woods across the way.
Young girls braved the waves. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
With the tide high, the waves rolled in to the joy of the water lovers of all ages. Young girls braved the strong waves, trying to stay erect against the crashing force. Their mother stood on alert where the waves turned to foam.
Wanting to try to ride the larger waves ashore, teenagers snagged a driftwood log and walked it bravely into the breakers. I was afraid to watch further.
Ducks also rode the waves close to shore and out of the wind. Gulls perched on rocks or pestered picnickers for any discarded scraps. Song Sparrows darted from scrubs to sea oats in search of proper food. I stood on the giant metamorphic rocks for an elevated view of all the action.
People searched the tide pools in the rocks for any trapped fish and starfish. The park featured no water slides or swimming pools. The purpose was to enjoy all that nature offered, from water-worn boulders, sandy beaches, and birds and butterflies.
When we returned to the cottage, low tide revealed the tidal flats of sweep sand for all to enjoy in the park and beyond.
Low tide expands the park’s “beach” exponentially. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
This American Robin knows how to beat the heat. It sat in this birdbath cooling off for the longest time. It didn’t splash or move around like the birds usually do while in the birdbath.
The robin just sat and enjoyed the pleasure of being still and cool. It’s a lesson for all of us to stay cool during this prolonged heatwave.
American Robin keeping cool. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh
You must be logged in to post a comment.