{"id":13918,"date":"2012-10-01T18:54:31","date_gmt":"2012-10-02T01:54:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.thefreequark.com\/?p=13918"},"modified":"2022-02-27T23:09:06","modified_gmt":"2022-02-27T23:09:06","slug":"bird-rescue-fishing-gear","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.ingridtaylar.com\/?p=13918","title":{"rendered":"Bird Rescue, Fishing Gear & Existential Inquiries"},"content":{"rendered":"

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This post is (or will be) a rambling confluence of a few different stories. Back in June, I posted about a Brown Pelican<\/a> I saw flying over Bolsa Chica at dusk. I photographed the bird in silhouette as it trailed a triple-hook fishing lure from its pouch.<\/p>\n

\"Silhouette<\/p>\n

I obviously have no way of knowing what will happen to the pelican I saw in that flyover, but in my Facebook feed today, I saw a post from International Bird Rescue, an amazing rescue and rehabilitation center in the Bay Area. Their photo is of a rescued pelican with the same type of fishing lure<\/a> caught in the bird’s pouch … and they link out to a post about birds and fishing gear injuries<\/a>. The photo of the pelican gave me hope, however slim, that the injured pelican I saw might someday find his or her good fortune in the hands of capable rescuers like the ones at Bird Rescue.<\/p>\n

This ties into a post at 10,000 Birds by blogger, birder and conservationist Larry Jordan who put together a a gorgeous, illustrated piece about the very same International Bird Rescue<\/a><\/strong> — a great article that deserves a read.<\/p>\n

There’s a loose thread from this subject — fishing gear and wildlife — to a photo I posted on Flickr a few days ago. I shot an image of salmon caught in a gill net. I know … I’m on a real upbeat trajectory here.<\/p>\n

\"Salmon<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

If you’re interested in the context, you can read my Flickr caption here<\/a>.<\/p>\n

I felt awful walking away from that scene, particularly after checking out the fish ladder viewing area and seeing the normally busy 18th weir<\/a>, almost devoid of salmon. The gillnets are strung across a big section of the channel which leads to the ladder, hence the reduced number of salmon travelers.<\/p>\n

\"Salmon

Seattle, Washington<\/p><\/div>\n

Ruminating on gillnets and entanglements, my mind raced to the gulls we tried to rescue out in Westport, Washington — gulls entangled in lazy, torn netting<\/a> over bait ponds.<\/p>\n

\"Gull<\/p>\n

Then that train of thought took me back to one particularly matted clump of fishing line and lure<\/a> Hugh and I found in Pacifica and detangled without impaling ourselves with the hidden octopus lure.<\/p>\n

\"Fishing<\/p>\n

This hamster-wheel of thought inside my little head — which occasionally seeps out in spurts like this — is why I treasure Zinfandel grapes and Blue Agave, because honestly, I would probably crack from over-analysis and psychic pain if nature hadn’t at least given us grapes and succulents to take the edge off existence from time to time.<\/p>\n

I’d like to think non-human animals have an innate equanimity and understanding — or some outlet that provides an occasional escape from their own travails. You’ve probably seen the video that circulated from a French “documentary” where elephants and baboons are stumbling drunk after ingesting alcoholic fruits. I believe this was staged with sedatives, or so I read. Not good ethics, dare I say. The reality of public drunkenness among wild animals is probably closer to what animal physiologist Barry Pinshows says in this Scientific American article<\/a>: “A drunk bat is a dead bat.” It probably doesn’t pay for animals to lose their hold on reality, the way we occasionally can.<\/p>\n

So, because it is most often the case that animals suffer our afflictions and technologies without much reprieve, the upshot of this post is threefold: 1) I’m so grateful for organizations like International Bird Rescue and all other wildlife rescuers and facilities (my own wildlife-rehab mentors included) — all of whom intervene when human intervention is detrimental — and who give me hope in humanity and hope in positive outcomes; 2) For all of my mixed feelings about Facebook and social media, links like the ones from Bird Rescue are the best part of my scrolling through news feeds; and, 3) My involvement with birds and other wildlife always, for better and worse, brings me to a much deeper understanding of the cycles and interconnectedness that make it impossible for me to separate my actions and my consumption from these end results.<\/p>\n

As Paul Kelway writes in the Bird Rescue blog<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Accidents happen. We choose reusable materials and diligently pick up after ourselves, but as hard as we each try to shrink our own ecological footprint, most of us have let a plastic bag get away from us in the wind or lost a sandwich wrapper off the side of our beach towel. Or what about the disposable coffee cup you forgot on the roof of your car? Each of us has played a part in the pollution we see around us, and each of us has the power to do something to reduce the damage.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

With respect to fishing gear, there is much more awareness and action now than in years prior, an important and proactive development. In fact, here in the Pacific Northwest, there’s a strong ghost net retrieval program<\/a> in place, gathering up derelict nets and fishing gear which would otherwise entangle many marine species. NOAA’s Marine Debris program<\/a> is tackling the issue on a larger scale. In the Bird Rescue post above, Kelway links out to information about ocean plastics — a different facet of the same problem: See NRDC’s page on plastics reduction<\/em><\/a>.<\/p>\n

If this post seems like it’s missing a point and a central focus, well, that’s because sometimes I have trouble coming up with the point of the things I see, sometimes heartbreaking things — and the tangential connections I make from all of that. Lately, my skills have been comparably under-utilized for the sake wildlife and over-utilized in the necessity of modern survival. And that, I imagine, leads to existential disorganization, maybe despair. Almost always, though, it awakens some sense of imperative about what really matters. And what started this post was precisely that: a picture of a pelican with a fishing lure piercing its pouch … safe in the sanctuary of a place where, as Larry wrote, “every bird matters”<\/a>. Every bird matters. Every sea lion matters. Every salmon matters. And, in this household, where we’re hosting several thriving house and garden spiders, every spider matters. I have to keep reminding myself of this reality when what I’m doing feels like the tiniest drop in the big bucket of calamity.<\/p>\n

For a slightly different take on the theme of small acts of compassion, read Michael Mountain’s post On Picking Up Starfish<\/a>. (Mountain is one of the founders of Best Friends Animal Sanctuary<\/a>, an unbelievably wonderful domestic animal rescue in the canyons of Kanab, Utah.)<\/p>\n

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