Bald Eagles, Trial Runs, and Family Responsibilities
This summer I’m planning to take the girls on a trip out West on what I’m calling the Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Tour. The idea is to see the largest of each category. We’ll go whale watching off the coast of San Francisco (to see the largest animals), visit the Redwood and Sequoia National Parks (to see the largest vegetables), and take a tour of the Grand Canyon (which is more like the largest absence of minerals, but I’ve always wanted to see it).
I’ve started planning the trip, bookmarking relevant websites on Diigo, following the appropriate national parks on Twitter, and checking in with a colleague in San Francisco about whale watching options. (Diigo, Twitter, friends… this is pretty much how I figure anything out these days.) I’ve been thinking about this trip for a couple of years, but now that I’m starting to map out an itinerary, I’m getting really excited about it.
Last weekend, I took the girls on a trial run of sorts, driving to the extreme northwest corner of Tennessee to visit Reelfoot Lake. This lake was created two hundred years ago by a series of earthquakes that shook the New Madrid fault just across the border in Missouri. The earthquake lowered some swampland adjacent to the Mississippi River, which shifted its course to fill that swampland. These days the Mississippi is kept at bay by levies, but Reelfoot Lake is still the largest natural lake in Tennessee–although its average depth is only four feet!
Reelfoot Lake is teeming with life, from algae and bacteria to fish and small mammals. As a result, the area is home to many birds of prey, including a population of bald eagles that nests there in the winter. When I heard that the state park there offers eagle tours led by park rangers, I knew I wanted to take the girls.
We drove up Saturday afternoon, spent the night in a hotel (always fun for the girls), and set out with a couple dozen other birdwatchers Sunday morning in an old school bus driven by a park ranger. About 45 minutes into the two-hour tour, Hannah turned to me and said, “Daddy, this tour is the best thing ever!” Home run!
It helped that our park ranger was great. He was friendly and funny and knew more about birds than anyone I’ve ever met. He took us to several bald eagle nests in the area. At each site, we got off the bus and watched the nesting eagles through telescopes provided by the ranger. In most cases we just saw an eagle’s white head poking up above the giant nests, but at one site we lucked out: While we were watching the daddy eagle flew up and traded places with the mommy eagle, who flew off to go hunting. Seeing these majestic creatures in flight was incredible!
Although the park ranger was indeed knowledgeable about birds, Hannah gave him a run for his money. He shared several bits of info that Hannah apparently already knew, including the fact that turkey vultures are one of only a couple of species of birds with a sense of smell. (They team up with black vultures. The turkey vultures sniff out carrion, and the black vultures use their superior beaks to, um, access the best parts.) My nine-year-old loves science, and I’m always amazed at what’s packed in her sponge-like brain.
Hannah’s love for the eagle tour leads me to believe she’ll go nuts over the Animal-Vegetable-Mineral Tour this summer, especially the whale watching park. The trip to Reelfoot Lake taught me another lesson I’ll bear in mind this summer: Hannah can be as self-absorbed as one might expect a nine-year-old to be.
At one point Sunday morning, I needed to call the Reelfoot Lake visitors center to confirm the location of our tour. We were running late, and if we didn’t find the visitors center soon, we might miss the tour, rendering the four hours of driving and night in a hotel fairly pointless. As I dialed the number, Lily asked (loudly) for a tissue. I asked Hannah to get her one, which seemed like a simple task. However, her interest in continuing to play her Nintendo DS meant that she didn’t give this task the creative energy it needed. She handed the first tissue she found to Lily, who promptly complained (loudly) that it was used. Hannah insisted (also loudly) that it was fine, and soon enough their disagreement over this point prevented me from hearing the nice lady from the visitors center on the phone. With the clock ticking, I lost my cool and raised my voice, telling Hannah to solve the tissue problem.
She didn’t, but I did manage to get directions to the visitors center. When I got off the phone, I pointed out to Hannah that there was an entire box of tissues on the floor near her feet which she somehow overlooked in her problem-solving attempts.
I know that as a single dad, there are times when I desperately want to have someone help me with my parenting duties. I would prefer a partner, but I’ll take an assistant. The challenge is that I can’t rely on Hannah to be that helper. She’s nine. “Hannah, go solve your sister’s problem” can be an unfair burden to place on her at times. On the other hand, she’s nine, and a nine-year-old should be able to help out her family. Between now and the AVM Tour this summer, I want to work on Hannah’s sense of responsibility. I may not be able to call on her in a pinch to find a tissue for her sister (although that sounds pretty reasonable), but I hope that she’ll start to see herself as someone who wants to contribute to, not just enjoy, family adventures.
When I talked about this with my mom, she pointed out that if I were living on a farm, Hannah and everyone else in the family would know they needed to pitch in. We would all have our chores that we took on as part of responsibility to the family. Living where I do, Hannah doesn’t have to milk any cows, but she does have to pick up her dirty clothes and put them in the hamper. And when we’re on the road, I want her to be thinking (at least a little) about how she can make the trip more enjoyable for everyone else.
I’m thinking it may be time to return to the Little House on the Prairie series for family reading time…