Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | January 6, 2012

Birding Florida’s Space Coast

 

 

An Afternoon Along Black Point Wildlife Drive

 

One of the pleasures of visiting the Cocoa Beach/Cape Canaveral area in Florida in winter is to go birding and see many species of local birds and those that come here for the climate.  All along the Indian River, Banana River, Sykes Creek, the coastal beaches and Merritt Island are parks, where one can stop, relax and look for unusual avian species. 

 

Probably the best area is the Merritt Island National Wildlife Refuge, which encompasses most of the northern end of Merritt Island.  Although this refuge contains the Kennedy Space Center and Cape Canaveral Air Force base, which are off limits to casual birders, a great portion of the northern extent of this preserve is open to the public.  This area, which is laced with a variety of access trails, is across the Indian River bridge from Titusville.  All habitats north of the Max Brewer Memorial Parkway and Florida Hwy 402, from Indian River to the beaches along the Atlantic Ocean, are available to enjoy bird watching. 

The most exciting and productive of these trails is the Black Point Wildlife Drive, a seven-mile, well developed and maintained automobile road, with pull-offs and parking areas placed at strategic locations.  Off the parking areas are hiking trails of various length.  Lookouts, where one can view activity on isolated ponds and streams, are provided along some trails. 

 

The road passes through and along palm hammocks, salt marshes, black mangrove swamps, grass and brush meadows, and open-water estuarine and freshwater ponds and streams.  For a nominal fee, bird watchers can spend the entire day exploring the bird habitats along this wildlife drive.  Though the posted speed limit is 15 mph, the average is about 7 mph.  And, with the many stops to observe and photograph bird, the drive takes a minimum of two hours.

 

Marian and I spent two afternoons along the Black Point Drive observing and photographing birds.  In addition to the pictures of birds I posted, we saw white pelicans, brown pelicans, white ibis, snowy egrets, American egrets, a pair of lesser scaups, wood storks, ospreys, royal terns, herring gulls, ringed-bill gulls, laughing gulls, Bonaparte’s gulls, common gallinules, boat-tailed grackles, a sora, belted kingfisher, scrub jays, palm warblers, yellow-rumps, seaside sparrows, black vultures, turkey vultures, sanderlings, a couple of alligators, and a medium-sized furry mammal that scooted across the road too fast to be identified.  Of greatest abundance were the American coots; there were hundreds of them.  Marian said that they reminded her of the wildebeests on the African grasslands. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you find my photos interesting, please let me know what you think of them.   Also please click on “My Books” above and check out the book titled Chasing Wings to read about my other bird watching adventures.   

© Richard Modlin 2012

 

 

 

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | October 22, 2011

HISTORY IN MACHIAS, MAINE

A Patriot’s Resting Place

Several days ago, while trying to photograph Roaring Falls, a catarack in the Machias River on the west side of Machias, Maine, I found an interesting historic site.  About one hundred yards downstream of Roaring Falls Park, off a path on the south side of the river and up a forested knoll, I encountered the O’Brien graveyard.  Lying in a copse of very old oak trees along the northern ascent of the hillside were about thirty grave sites peppered with autumn-colored leaves—a peaceful, idyllic place. 

O'Brien Tombstones

Lowest on the hill were a row of five stone markers, dating back to the early 19th Century.  A flag flew next to one of these tombstones, marking the brial site of probably Machias’ most distinguish founding fathers, Captain Jeremiah O’Brien.  On the right lay his wife Elizabeth, and on his left Jeremiah’s father, Morris, and mother, Mary.  Writing on tombstone farthest to the right was indistinguishable, perhaps one of Elizabeth and Jeremiah’s children.

Machias, ME, City Center

These gravesites substantiated that the people I wrote about in my recently completed novel, Newfound Freedom (see Sand Squiggle’s blog posted April, 2011), were indeed real, and lived and die where they were suppose to have been. 

I knew the O’Briens of Machias existed because their names appear in the history of the city, on old maps, and even on a 18th Century fortification down river.  But actually being in their presence, at least in spirit, was to me an eureka moment—like realizing you had just slept in an inn where George Washington once slept. 

Elizabeth O'Brien Tombstone

Well, who were the O’Briens?  They were the founders of West Falls, a village in the township of Mashias, which in the 18th Century was part of Massachusetts.  When this portion of MA was rename the State of Maine, West Falls became City of Machias.  Morris O’Brien and his five sons were prominent lumberers in this city.  Their residences, sawmills and other enterprizes were located on the site of Great Falls Park and they owned the land to the east and south of the park.  But of the five brothers, it was Jeremiah O’Brien who distinguished the family.

Patriot's Resting Place

On 12 June 1775, under his command, the cargo vessel Unity, which Jeremiah and a band of rebellous patriots armed with variety of guns and primative weapons commandeered.  Using the Unity, they pursued and captured Great Britain’s armed schooner HMS Margaretta. 

The Margaretta had escorted two frighters, the Unity and Polly, to Machias to take on lunber for the British Army headquartered in Boston.  Because both of these vessels were own by a Loyalist, who resided in the village, and most of the townspeople were patriots, the captain of the Margaretta threatened to bombard the village if any of the townsfolks interferred in this transaction.  With Concord and Lexington fresh on their minds and their abhorrence of the developing British tyranny in the colonies, the captain’s threat did not sit well with the patriots.  The Battle at Machias, which was fought in Machias Bay, lasted about an hour and became the first naval battle of the American Revolution. 

For his part in this conflict, Jeremiah O’Brien was given the rank of captain in the Massachusetts Navy, one of the forerunners of America’s Continental Navy, and eventually the U.S. Navy.  Over the next 200 years the U.S. Navy distinguished O’Brien by christening four destroyers in his name.  But the most famous of the naval vessels that carries his name is the SS Jeremiah O’Brien, the last authentic Liberty Ship still in full operation. 

Docked at San Francisco’s Fishermen’s wharf, the Jeremiah O’Brien is open to the public and cruises the bay area.  It is itself a distinguished WWII naval vessel.  During the war it sailed throughout the Atlantic and Pacific and aided in the Invasion at Normandy.  On one of her trips to Normandy she transported General Patton’s Fifth Division.  She recently returned to Normandy to celebrate the 50th anniversary of this D-Day Invasion—the only authentic WWII naval vessel to attend this ceremony.   

Others buried in the O’Brien cemetery, in addition to relatives and inlaws, are Captain O’Brien’s brother, Gideon and his family, as will as the captain’s son, Jeremiah O’Brien and his family.  The second Jeremiah O’Brien, born in 1778 and died in 1851, also distinguished the family.  Captain O’Brien’s son was elected to the Maine State Senate in 1821 and served until 1824, when he became a U.S. Congressman in 1823.  He represented the State of Maine until 1829.  While in the U.S. Congress he served on the Committee on Expenditure in the Department of Navy.  After his stint representing the State of Maine in congress, he served two more terms in the state senate and then, he returned to the family’s lumber business. 

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© Copyright Richard Modlin 2011

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | October 15, 2011

IMPRESSIONS ON WILD WATERS 2

The Nesowadnehunk Stream to the North

At least it’s not raining, but the sixty-foot tall, black-green fir trees at the edge of the yard stand like silhouettes against the blanched curtain hiding the bay.  You would think the day would be great for ducks, but it’s the crows that are having their convention.  One flies to a fir tree and lights on the tip branch, the single, thin bough that creates the peg upon which a star, angel or dove are placed at Christmas time.  Soon others, four to six of them, land on the surrounding topmost horizontal branches.  These stems are also thin and bend under the weight of the crow.  The crows bobble and caw, then fly off, like flapping black clothes, in all direction and disappear into the white featureless fog.  They’ll return in about ten minutes—but enough about crows. 

Bridge over the Nesowadnehuck

This post is about the northern stretch of the Nesowadnehuck Stream flowing on the west side of Katahdin through Baxter State Park, ME.

The gravel Tote Road that traverses Baxter from the Visitors Center at Togue Pond Gate, the park’s southern entrance, to Matagamon Gate, the northern entrance, parallels the Nesowadnehuck from Foster Field-Kidney Pond Camps to Nesowadnehuck Field Camp.  Since this is distance is about eight miles, and it was already after lunch, we decided to drive, wanting to return to our campground before dark.

Kidney Pond Library

After a short visit to Kidney Pond Campground, a more manicured camp with rustic cabins than the one on Daicey Pond, we connected with the Tote Road at Foster Field, a picnic area and primitive camping site.  The spectacular steep face of O-J-I Mountain (height 3434 feet) can be seen from the picnic area.  The name of this mountain came from past rock slides that carved the initials into this landmass. 

Camper's Cabin at Kidney Pond

From Foster Field the Tote Road runs along the base of O-J-I Mountain and periodically comes into the shadow of this mountain’s second, lower West Peak (height 2502 feet).  The fir-birch forest occasionally opens and the road dust clears, providing a view of West Peak and the mountain’s initials.

About a mile up Tote Road, on the left, is the grave of the unknown River Driver.  These were the sure-footed, hearty, crazed men that waltzed about the logs that were cut in the winter and floated down the raging Nesowadnehuck to the Penobscot River sawmills in the spring.  River Drivers are pictured wearing felt hats and carry long poles, which they use for balance, redirecting stray logs, and breaking jams.  A missed step, ricocheted push, or a collision, while driving rolling logs down a highballing, whitewater streams, sends the driver into the cold, churning foam.  The felt hat, found swirling in an eddy, signified another of these gandy dancers had met his demise.

Slide Dam area on the Nesowadnehuck Stream

Two miles ahead is the Slide Dam, where the Nesowadnehuck spills, slides, and glides, and turns, twists and swirls over smooth, flat granite slabs down a thirty-foot gradient of about a quarter mile in length.  It’s as if one could easily surfboard or snowboard down this slide.  I did so in similar stretch of a mountain stream in western Belize, but without any board.  The butt of my bathing trunks got a bit worn. 

Slide Dam on the Nesowadnehuck Stream in Baxter State Park, ME

Plein air artists and sketchers of postcard scenes are drawn to the Nesowadnehuck Slide because of its idyllic beauty and color.  This place glows in the autumnal colors of reds, yellows, purples, browns, beiges and greens.  The dark green of the firs, maple reds and shimmering yellow birches contrast the purples and violets of the surrounding mountains.  Clumps of asters and sunflowers, fresh and dried sedges, grass and alders trim the shoreline of the pewter bottomed, eager flowing stream.

Upstream of the slide about three quarters of a mile, the Nesowadnehuck crashes down Ledge Falls.  Here the beauty brackets an angry stream.  Two miles farther upstream, the Nesowadnehuck narrows and meanders serenely toward its headwaters outside the state park. 

The Nesowadnehuck Stream Looking Downstream from bridge.

We had reached Nesowadnehuck Field Campground, a desolate area near the western boundary of Baxter State Park, containing a picnic area and primitive tenting site.  I stood on a bridge crossing the stream, wondering how big the brook trout were that swam below.  Atop a straggly fir an American kestrel perused the landscape and a Philadelphia vireo flitted to another tree.  Sunlight waned.  We turned for Daicey Pond Campground and returned in time to toast a rising full moon with a glass of wine and hear the kindling in the fire pit begin to crackle. 

The Nesowadnehuck Stream Looking Upstream from Bridge

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 © Copyright Richard Modlin 2011

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | October 9, 2011

IMPRESSIONS ON WILD WATERS

 

The Nesowadnehunk Stream Going South

Rivulets of rainwater that stream down the windows create slithering, distorted images of the birch and fir trees, shoreline, bay and the distant horizon outside.  Bleakness and black-green-gray monochromaticity prevail.  That’s what it’s all about in northern Maine. From the Downeast coast to the Canadian border water and rock, sphagnum and reindeer moss, conifers, and deciduous trees with trunks wrapped in peeling bark typify this environment; but water is the most important characteristic.

Besides the ocean that bathes the magnificent, spectacular rocky Downeast coastline, there is a patchwork of natural and manmade lakes, bogs, beaver ponds, and the tributaries that connect them strewn across the interior.  These are quiet, picturesque places where the call of the loon echoes in the evening.

But it’s the streams, rivulets and rivers that are the most sensational.  They whisper, babble, and roar.  Their flow meanders, ripples, runs and falls in colors of black, amber, and clear; the latter, if viewed from another angle, reflecting the sky.  In some places these watery paths and roadways cascade in anger, spouting routs of foam and mist.

The Nesowadnehunk Stream near, but above Little Niagara Falls, Baxter State Park, ME

A short distance (about a quarter mile) from the cabin at Daicey Pond Campground (DPC) in Baxter State Park, ME, flows the Nesowadnehunk Stream.  The stream flows south, through Baxter along the western side of Katahdin, from the about ten miles north to park’s southern border, where it pours into the Nesowadnehunk Deadwater area, a region of connecting marshes, ponds and bogs.  This region eventually forms the headwaters of the Penobscot River. 

In the state park, the Appalachian Trail (AT) comes in contact with the Nesowadnehunk waterway just north of DPC, follows it southeast to the Penobscot’s headwaters and turns south.  After about three tenths of a mile the AT makes a hard right, crosses the Penobscot at Abol Bridge Campground and continues southwest out of Baxter and toward Springer Mountain, GA.

To discover the essence, history and wildness of Baxter’s endless forest environment and, view the tumultuous nature a stream falling down a mountain side, the first morning my camping buddies, Pierre and Pat, and my wife, Marian, and I hiked south on the AT for little over a mile to Toll Bridge and Little Niagara.  The trail was easy, only a few ascents and descents, boulders to climb over, mud and slippery logs, and exposed ankle twisting roots.  Mushroom, ferns, alder bushes, sprouting balsams, asters, mosses and sphagnum, and lichen covered limbs and rocks littered the resin, musty smelling forest floor.  The stream gurgled somewhere beyond, hidden by the mass of trees.  But as we neared our destination the Nesowadnehuk began to roar. 

An Avatar at Rest

Ahead I saw an AT trail marker.   It pointed to the left at a junction with another trail that went to the right.  Pierre motioned for us to go right. 

This short trail ended on the sandy bank where the Nesowadnehunk, after crashing through and over a driftwood-strewn barrier, churned past as if it were late meeting its deadline with the Penobscot.  During the lumbering heydays of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, a bridge or dam once crossed this portion of the stream.  Remnants of hewn timbers and rusting steel cables lay exposed along the shore.  I wondered whether or not lumberjacks and river drivers had to pay a toll if they wanted to cross.

The Nesowadnehunk Stream flowing over the reminants of the Toll Bridge

The Nesowadnehunk Stream approaching Little Niagara Falls

Not far ahead was the cataract named Little Niagara Falls.  Here the Nesowadnehunk rampaged between and over boulders, and cascaded down about thirty feet in foamy, churning vociferousness.  The roar of the stream was so loud we had to shout to be heard, so we sprawled out on the granite precipice, enjoyed the view, and ate our trail-mix.  Later this afternoon we planned to drive north for more spectacular views of the Nesowadnehunk.  

Precipice of Little Niagara Fall

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© Copyright, Richard Modlin 2011

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | October 1, 2011

CONTEMPLATIONS ON KATAHDIN

 

Mt. Katahdin Across Daicey Pond

Some years ago I sat reading Hemingway outside a lounge of an Amboseli resort, a tot of scotch in my hand.  Across the grassland, Mount Kilimanjaro stood three miles in front of me.  Last week, sipping Yorkshire tea, I sat on the porch of a rustic cabin on the west side of Daicey Pond, contemplating the view of another notable mountain, Katahdin.  Like Kilimanjaro, Katahdin stood about three miles away, its pinnacle exposed above the expansive fir forests but not covered in snow.

Katahdin is the centerpiece of Baxter State Park that is located in north central Maine.  Depending on whether you are coming or going, the 5,268-foot summit of Katahdin, known as Baxter Peak, is either the terminus or the head of the famous Appalachian Trail (AT). To fully complete their quest an AT “Thru” hiker (one who treks the entire 2000-plus-mile distance to or from Springer Mountain, GA) must plant his or her feet on Katahdin’s peak. 

I contemplated the challenges Katahdin places on AT “Thru” hikers.  The AT passes through Daicey Pond campground.  From here it is a seven- to twelve-hour trek to the summit, depending on the fitness and stamina of the hiker.  

Clouds atop Katahdin

I met one such hiker on this trip, a young, handsome, healthy-looking fellow from California, as I slogged along a portion of AT that ran next to a roaring river.  He was moving at a near jog.   For the moment he came next to me, he slowed to chitchat and introduce himself as Squatch, his trail name.  He told me that he had hiked several of the long trekking trails in the USA when he came up behind me.  Squatch then hurried ahead and yelled back, “I’m trying to catch up with my girlfriend.”  Since I had not encountered her during my time on the trail, she must have been several hundred yards ahead.  “She jogs on the trail,” I heard him say as he rounded a bend and disappeared among the trees.  Either Squatch got a slow start, I thought, or his woman was a more apt trekker than he.  Though I suspect, his lag behind her was due to his sociable nature and stopping to talk to folks like me along the way.

Whatever, these “Thru” hikers are a diehard bunch, literally.  Yesterday I read in daily news where an AT “Thru” hiker became ill on the trail, but continued on his trek because he was within two miles of reaching his destination, the summit.  Others found him and went for help.  The ill hiker was taken off the slope and to a hospital, where he later died. 

Fog Rolling down Katahdin

Now that’s a do or die attitude.  Once upon a time I may have wanted to travel every byway and climb every mountain, but now I content myself by contemplating the subtleties that take place in challenging and wild places.  Like Kilimanjaro, Katahdin’s image changes with the lighting throughout the day and with meteorological conditions.  These changes are fun to watch and photograph.

Sun Rising Behind Katahdin

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© Richard Modlin copyright 2011

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | July 3, 2011

Sue Brannan Walker, State of Alabama Poet Laureate

The 2011 Alabama Writers’ Conclave is fortunate to have State Poet Laureate, Dr. Sue B. Walker, as a faculty member, leading the conference workshop in Poetry.  Recently Dr. Walker has been asked by the National League of American Pen Women in Washington DC to do a workshop for them in April.  To learn more about Dr. Walker and her credits, please read the more detailed bio posted below. 

In addition to Poetry, workshops in Fiction, Nonfiction, and Memoir are also be held at the upcoming Alabama Writers’ Conclave.  This year the conference is being held in Huntsville, AL, from July 15 – 17 at the Marriott next to the Space and Rocket Center.  For more information visit the AWC website, www.alabamawritersconclave.org.  There is still time to register and not miss out on Dr. Walker’s workshop or any of the others.

Sue Brannan Walker

            Dr. Sue Brannan Walker is Poet Laureate of Alabama, the Stokes Distinguished Professor of Creative Writing and Director of the Stokes Center for Creative Writing, and Professor of English at the University of South Alabama where she teaches courses in creative writing. She and her students are proud of their class poetry projects, namely working with Place 15 in Mobile, Alabama where they teach writing to the Homeless.

            Dr. Walker is a poet, playwright, professor, scholar, author, and Publisher of Negative Capability Press. She has eight published books of poetry, has edited four national literary anthologies, had work published in more than fifteen anthologies, published more that fifty critical articles, and is known for her critical work on Southern writers, Carson McCullers, Flannery O’Connor, and James Dickey.

            Dr. Walker has won the Alabama-Writer’s Conclave Play-Writing competition for her one-woman, one-act play based on the life of Mobile’s Madame Octavia LeVert. She has subsequently performed the play at the Firehouse Theater in Mobile, at Oakleigh, in New Orleans, Gulf Shores, and other local venues.  For her research on Octavia Le Vert, she was awarded an Elizabeth B. Gould Research Award from the Mobile Historic Development Commission.

            Included among Dr. Walker’s awards is the William Crawford Gorgas Award from the Alabama Medical Association for significant work by a lay person in the medical field for Life on the Line: Selections on Words and Healing.  This book also received the Book of the Century Award from the Alabama State Poetry Society.  Dr. Walker has received the Mobile YWCA Woman of Achievement Award and the
Mobile Arts Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in 2006.She was the First Lady of Mobile  in 2006. Dr. Walker publishes in the field of Medical Humanities and has served on the University of South Alabama Medical Admissions Committee. She has served as Chair of the Disabilities Committee for the National Modern Language Association.

            Dr. Walker has been a recipient of an Alabama Council on the Arts Individual Writers Fellowship. Dr. Walker has received a citation from the city of Birmingham for her literary achievements and been honored by Sue Walker Day in Foley, Alabama, has served as President of the Alabama State Poetry Society and the State President of the Alabama National League of American Pen Women, President of the Mobile Chapter of the National League of American Pen Woman, and The Pensters.  She is a member of the Sigma Tau Delta Honor Society, the Golden Key National Honor Society, Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society, and Sigma Tau Delta Honor Society.

            Dr.  Walker has won the Hackney Literary Award for fiction and has published poetry and fiction in more than sixty national journals. Her work as editor and publisher of the literary journal Negative Capability journal was recognized by Writer’s Digest where it was declared the most 3rd prestigious literary journal in United States in the 1990s.

            Faulkner Suite, a collection of poems about William Faulkner was published by Oeonoco Press in 2008. Whatever Remembers Us: An Anthology of Alabama poetry , was a Southern Booksellers Best Poetry Book finalist in 2008.  She is completing a critical book on James Dickey and Deep Ecology, and working on a novel on the yellow fever epidemic in Mobile in 1878.  A book on the Mobile-Tensaw Delta came out in early 2004 from NewSouth Press.

            Dr. Walker is a graduate of the University of Alabama where she received a B.S. degree in Education and Tulane University where she received M.Ed,  M.A. and Ph.D. degrees.

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | June 18, 2011

Why Attend Writers’ Workshops

   Last year I published the essay below to inform aspiring and successful writers how I learned to hone my writing abilities.  I’ve updated it.

   This year, 2011, The Alabama Writers Conclave is having their conference in my hometown, Huntsville, Alabama.  I’m going to this event and plan to attend workshops that are being taught by well-known writers of fiction, nonfiction, poetry and memoir.  The Conclave is a writer-friendly organization and the workshops are especially aimed at nurturing aspiring writers.   I hope you join me.

Where I Learned to Hone My Writing. 

  Like a cowboy, tending a herd of cattle, a creative writer must learn to rope unruly and feral words and bring them into the drove.  Otherwise, whatever he or she is writing will not create the hook that captures the reader or, in the case of an aspiring writer desiring to be published, a publisher and/or agent.  Techniques to accomplish this come from successful authors, who have learn the craft and are able to teach others.

     I’ve been writing for quit a few years and have had a few creative pieces published, but I still consider myself a writer in the mode of learning the craft.  Though I’ve attended college and received several graduate degrees, the knowledge I gathered didn’t give me what I needed to be a creative writer.  It geared me to a career in research and sharing my esoteric findings by writing and publishing my results in scientific journals.  Few people, beyond the scientists interested in my limited little corner of science, read my stuff.  Why, because this form of print is dry and succinct — only the facts, ma’am, only the facts.

     Writings that interest the masses need to be entertaining, instill emotion, and stimulate the senses in addition to relating the facts.  These are the qualities in a piece that a creative writer needs to perfect and sharpen.  One learns and hones these qualities by writing, reading, and listening. 

     ”I’ve heard this all before; so what’s the big deal?”  You say.

     It’s the latter activity, listening. 

     ”To whom?”

     ”Successful writers.” 

     I’ve learned to make my writings more interesting, entertaining, intense, acute, and effective by listening to writers who relate their experiences and knowledge at writers’ workshops where they teach in their specific genre: fiction, nonfiction, poetry, screen writing, children’s writing, etc.  These workshop are usually part of the agenda of a weekend conference of a well established regional or state writers’ organization.  The meetings are usually over a weekend and the teaching faculty are published and well known in their genre. 

      In the very near future I’m attending the 2011 Conference of the Alabama Writers’ Conclave.  And, while there, I plan to pick the fruits that will flavor my scribbling even more.  This conference has four writers’ workshops: fiction/editing, poetry, nonfiction, and memoir.  Respectively, the slate of notable authors presenting their knowledge and experiences are Chris Roerden, Dr. Sue B. Walker, Jenny Ivey, and Jim Minick.  “What a fabulous group.”  And the conference is also featuring Rabbi Rami Shapiro, the notable inspirational author, as the Writer-in-Residence. 

     What an opportunity to meet and learn from such a distinguish staff of writers.  If you are an aspiring writer or have any interest in the craft you should attend.  Information on the Alabama Writers Conclave and its conference can be had by visiting the website, http://www.alabamawritersconclave.org.

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© Richard Modlin, 2011

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | May 29, 2011

Alabama Writers’ Conclave 2011

Alabama Writers’ Conclave Scheduled for Huntsville, AL

The Alabama Writers’ Conclave, considered one of the oldest continuously active writers’ society in the United States, is expected to draw 80-100 attendees July 15-17 to its Annual Meeting.  The Tranquillity Base Marriott Hotel, next to the Space and Rocket Center, will serve as host during the three-day event. 

            The hallmarks of the AWC are to provide and share information, furnish practical advice to writers, nurture aspiring writers, and support the writing arts by assisting in developing ideas and providing honing skills through the venue of an annual conference, writing contest, manuscript critiques, newsletters, and the publication of contest winners’ entrees in the online journal, The Alaticom. 

            Although many states will be represented during the event, members mainly hail from the State of Alabama.  Members include fiction and non-fiction writers, novelists and short story writers, poets, writers of business and scientific works, freelance journalists, romance writers, publishers, patrons and teachers.

            Scheduled events begin with a Friday evening reception. Writing workshops begin at 8:30 am Saturday and continue through the afternoon. Topping off the evening will be the Grace Gravlee Awards Banquet and keynote presentation by the noted Writer-in-Residence.  Sunday attendees can expect morning workshops and the annual member business meeting during which door prizes will be given.

            Featured workshop faculty include Dr. Sue Brannan Walker, Alabama State Poet Laureate (Poetry), Jim Minick (Memoir), Jenny Ivey (Nonfiction), Chris Roerden (Editing & Fiction), and Rabbi Rami Shapiro (Writer-in-Residence).  For registration, information, and complete conference schedule please log onto www.alabamawritersconclave.org

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© Richard Modlin, 2011

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Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | May 10, 2011

17-Year Cicadas are Back

 

Marian and I had a pleasant surprise this past Sunday morning (May 8, 2011).   During breakfast in our sunroom, we noticed about a dozen little cicadas, outside, sitting on the deck’s banasters and chairs, drying their wings. Nearby, were the nymphal exoskeletons these bugs left behind after molting into the adult stage.  

Seeing these insects hit me as strange, because cicadas are the noisy harbangers of late summer—and it’s only mid-Spring.  And these guys were not the bombastic green bugs we hear and see in August and September.  Instead, they were attractive little creatures of about 1.0-1.2 inches long with brownish-gold wings streching away from a gnarly black thorax and a pair of large cherry-red eyes. 

Then it dawned on me.  I had seen this species of cicada before, in the spring of 1994.  There were hundreds covering the trees in a yard of a house I previously owned on the south side of Huntsville, Alabama.  Back then, I did what any field biologist would do.  I collected a bunch, identified the critters and showed them to my invertebrate zoology class.

“I’ve seen this happen before,” I yelled, “seventeen years ago.  By golly!  What we’re seeing is the emergence of the periodic 17-year cicada, Magicicada septendecium.  Get the cameras.  This won’t happen again until 2028.”

Unlike the big 13-year and non-perodic green cicadas that vibrate our eardrums on late summer evenings, this species lives 99.9% of its life as a nymph 10 inches underground for seventeen year, feeding on the juices of plant roots.  When the nymphs fully developed, they wait until the ground temperature at the depth they resides reaches around 63o F, then they burrows their way to the surface enmass—the entire brood in an area (hundreds and sometimes thousands of them) emerges within a day or two. 

Nymphs dig an escape tunnel of about a quarter inch in diameter and crawl out onto the surface of the ground.  Then climb up some nearby prominence and molt.  After exiting their nymphal exoskeleton, the nymphs amble to a safe place safe and dry their bodies and inflate the wings—a process that takes about two hours.   The adult cicadas then fly into the trees where they mate.  

To attract females, the males “sing.”  Their song is loud and intense.  Receptive female respond by flapping their wings in time with the males’ chorus.  Females usually mate once, but multiple matings with a single female does occur.  After mating the female cuts a slit in a young tree branch and lays about twenty eggs.  She does this several time, laying a total of about 600-700 eggs.  After mating adult males and females die.  The entire adult portion of the 17-year cicada lasts about ten days to two weeks.  By the end of June the forests around Hunsville quiet down.  Only the subtle songs of birds, and the chirps of crickets and kadydids touch our ears.

Cicada eggs hatch in about six to ten weeks.  Newly hatched nymphs, which are about the size of a pinhead, drop to the ground and burrow in.  They will grow in the subterrian habitat and reemerge again in seventeen years.

© Richard Modlin 2011

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Posted in Natural History, Writings | Tags: , , , ,

Posted by: Sand Squiggles -- Richard Modlin's Blog | April 13, 2011

Newfound Freedom, Synopsis

Synopsis of My New Novel, Newfound Freedom

Newfound Freedom tells the story of two English brothers, who experience a perilous Atlantic crossing and are unexpectedly drawn into the beginning of the American Revolution.

At the end of May 1773, Ian Hollister graduates from Cambridge University and is offered a position in the family business Boston office.  He requests that his younger brother, Jack, accompany him.  Edward Hollister, the boys’ father, concurs.  In May 1774 the boys depart aboard the family owned brigantine.  A storm forces a leak in the hull.  The vessel limps into Halifax.  Jack and Ian find passage aboard another vessel.

While in a pub in Halifax, Jack observes several redcoats harassing an old man.  He apologizes to the man for the actions of his countrymen.  Captain Hargrave gives the boys passage aboard his schooner Pegasus carrying guns and ammunition to colonial rebels.  The vessel departs ahead of an approaching hurricane.  Jack receives training in seamanship by Charles Bowden and Horace Smoke.  Ian remains below, seasick. 

Ian warns of traveling with rebellious colonials.  Jack advocates for the colonials. 

The hurricane catches up; washes Hargrave overboard, injures Bowden, and smashes Pegasus against the coast of Maine.  Survivors make camp in a protected cove.  Bowden, familiar with the location, warns of resident pirates and wreckers.

Unbeknown to the survivors, HMS Buzzard, a naval frigate commanded by William Francklin, plies the waters off Maine.  He uses the Pegasus for gunnery practice.  Seeing men aboard the wreck, the frigate leaves and sails into Passamaquoddy Bay.  Francklin dispatches marines to capture the survivors.

Meanwhile, the pirate, Dunkin raids the survivor camp.  Dunkin befriends Bowden and moves everyone to the pirates’ camp.  Bowden is reunited with the infamous female pirate Maire Balch. 

Jack enjoys the adventure.  Ian voices concern about their safety.  He becomes enamored with Maire’s younger sister, Kara. 

The marines find and raid Balch Camp.  Ian, Kara, and all able-bodied men are taken prisoner and impressed into naval service. 

Away during the redcoat raid, Jack and others return to find their camp devastated and two men dead.  They escape to Machias, Maine, a logging town composed primarily of colonial rebels.

The HMS Buzzard departs for Quebec. Sidetracked, the vessel overwinters in Halifax.  Being impressed causes Ian depression and disheartenment.  An accident places him and the youngest midshipman together.  Captain Francklin learns that his civilian scout, Jacob Wrack, has an attraction for young midshipmen. 

Although safe in Machias, Jack has bouts of despondency.  He misses his brother, grieves the loss of friends, and is concerned about his uncertain future.  With Ian missing, he would inherit the operation of the family business.  This he doesn’t want. 

As spring 1775 approaches tensions heighten from lack of food, exasperation with Britain, and the battles at Lexington and Concord.  Protected by the Royal Navy, a Loyalist merchant’s attempt to coerce residents leads to insurrection.  Machias leaders strategize a means to combat Loyalist’s attempt.  A naval battle ensues. The militia captures the HMS Maragaretta, kills the captain, and imprisons the crew.  One of Jack’s friends is killed.  Jack and a close friend are injured.  After the battle Jack and Bowden are transported to Beverly, Massachusetts.  

Aboard the Buzzard, Ian, in his attempt to protect the young midshipman, has a confrontation with Jacob Wrack.  When faced with the anger of other crewmen, Wrack jumps overboard and disappears.

Ian, in his foiled attempt to jump ship, is imprisoned.

Wrack reappears in Halifax to murder the Buzzard’s master gunner, and disappears yet again. 

Frustrated, Francklin attempts to depart Halifax, but the HMS Warwick and two frigates detain him.  Fleet command orders the Buzzard back to Boston through a communiqué brought along with a message identifying Ian as one of the missing Hollister brothers.  Francklin delivers Ian to the Hollister House in Boston.

In a pub Jack meets Bowden’s old friend José Diaz.  They depart for Cambridge.  In route, a redcoat patrol confronts them.  Diaz’s men dispatch the patrol.  Jack has an audience with General Washington, who introduces him to Lieutenant Nathan Hale.  Hale stealthily escorts Jack into Boston.  

Reunited with Ian, Jack learns that his father has terminated the North American operation and ordered all associates—including him—to return to England.  Jack appreciates the colonials’ desire for freedom and wants to stay and join them.  With Ian and his uncles taking charge, Jack knows his role will be superfluous in the family business.  Ian, a staunch loyalist, considers the colonials to be renegade Englishmen with no chance of winning the American Revolution.  He tries to convince his brother to return to England.      

After soul-searching and having a fitful nightmarish night, Jack decides to rejoin Nathan Hale and remain in the colonies.  Departing, Jack turns to his brother and says, “Tell Father I will get to Cambridge, but not the one in England.”

© Richard Modlin, 2011

At this time Newfound Freedom is only in manuscript form.  Additional information and the complete manuscript are available, on request, to literary agents and/or publishers.  Please contact me at richard@richardmodlin.com

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Posted in American History, Maritime History, Writings | Tags: , , , , , , ,

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