PURPLE FLAG WARNING

When potentially dangerous ocean animals have been spotted, you'll see a dark blue or purple flag. These flags fly either on their own or with other colored flags. If you see a blue or purple flag, but the water is not closed to swimming, use extreme caution and keep a close watch for dangerous animals. (USA TODAY)

(Google Image)

A hidden, life-long goal had been to relocate to Cape Cod. I didn't come close until Summer 2002. Moved here permanently in 2007 and have felt lucky. Living near the sea has brought magic into my life that I never thought possible. Yet, there's always a "but," isn't there?

Walking Nauset Beach and watching seals popping their heads up to catch a breath and get their bearings delighted me, though my head told me the playful pinnipeds were eating all the fish, affecting recreational and commercial fishing. My heart savored every moment. Then, an ever-increasing threat, once a concern in other parts of the world has since been acknowledged here: climate change. I heard your groans and moans as you read those words. Today's blog will be more anecdotal than evangelical.

This time, I will focus on how climate change has affected my lifestyle and that of others who love to frolic in the waters off of Nauset Beach. Planet Earth is a living organism which, like shifting sands, changes at a moment's notice. Human beings have precipitated changes and we have to live with that. Still, beauty abounds even among danger and chaos, at least that's what I tell myself. My point? Sharks have invaded the Atlantic coast, off Cape Cod. At first, I joined the ranks of the curious. For example, Mary Lee and Katherine, regular visitors, have been tagged and studied by Atlantic White Shark Conservatory and Greg Skomal, PhD. Occasional visits by threatened Great Whites seemed fanciful and necessary to cull the overpopulated seals which, like me, had decided to move to Cape Cod. 

I'd forgotten why seals came here, however. The Atlantic Ocean temps have warmed, bringing sea-life not seen off Cape Cod and not in such record numbers. Well, nature has a way of restoring balance, so more and more Great White sharks have discovered their cornucopia. Damn. Purple flags, as described above, have been posted regularly at Nauset and other coastal beaches. One of the efficient predators was spotted in Nauset Inlet recently. That's right an inlet!

Left-side brain in charge: I'll approach the Great White shark phenom with a rational observation. The more sharks, the fewer seals, and more fish for our struggling commercial fishing industry. We who live on the Cape, especially those whose ancestors came here and our indigenous peoples, settled here because of the ocean's bounty. A way of life has been saved, right? Well, temporarily, but organisms must adapt to survive and based on predictions from the global scientific community, more drastic change will come. Besides, shark attacks are rare.

Right-side brain banging: no one would dare swim when purple flags have been posted. News and social media show people standing by the water's edge, waves brushing their toes, eyes looking out to sea wondering when they will be able to return. Overreaction? Not when last reported twenty-three Great White sharks have been seen trolling the coastline for seals, fish and a nibble of a bitter-tasting human. No longer being able to swim in the waters that my family and friends swam in cuts to the bone. Uh, unfortunate idiom, makes a point though. Thus, nostalgia has been wiped away by pre-historic predators. I feel for children, families that can't swim regularly off our coastal beaches. They at least have the Bay beaches (Cape Cod Bay and Nantucket Bay). 

Ironic. In my case, health issues--potentially caused by climate change (see earlier blog, dated 2/9/15)--keep me from stepping foot in the ocean. Feeling sorry for myself won't fix the problem for others. Therefore, I'll finish with these comments. I will take the changing marine environment as an opportunity to observe, to retain and then use the material for my writing. After all, human beings are animals, and like other species we must adapt.

Fascinated by the sea? Cape Cod life? Read my Shadowwater books. Details: www.shadowwater.net

"TRUMP L'OEIL" - DONALD TRUMP REDUX

First, apologies to mes amis français, art historians and those devotees of trompe l'oeil, the phrase meaning "to deceive the eye," for the above. Second, I'm a native New Yorker who grew up reading and hearing about, and finally seeing Donald Trump ever-present in the media. Also, I grew up in Cornwall, NY, important because the "on-the-Hudson" part of the town is home to the New York Military Academy, Donald Trump's alma mater. Last, I'm astounded how many people have forgotten that Trump has been and always will be a salesman or, in more basic terms, a shyster.

"To hell with the truth! As the history of the world proves, the truth has no bearing on anything. It's irrelevant and immaterial, as the lawyers say. The lie of a pipe dream is what gives life to the whole misbegotten mad lot of us, drunk or sober," spoken by Larry, a character in Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh.

Moreover, Hickey, the loudmouth salesman in the play enthralls his boozin' buddies with dreams of a better tomorrow. By the end of Act One, even the audience has been dazzled. However, like life, Act Two reveals what's beneath Hickey's propaganda. The result? All are deflated, including playgoers, and become silent with disbelief.

Donald Trump makes a great pitch but does he deliver? Trump has those qualities which, if O'Neill were alive, the playwright would recognize and probably put on paper. Donald Trump, the real estate mogul sweeps his audience away with clear talkin' platitudes. How quickly followers have forgotten Donald's foray into reality television with, The Apprentice. He and the show's producers convincingly bamboozled viewers into believing that show had real people, unscripted and undirected. However the devilish Omarosa later revealed otherwise: she displayed a much softer side, so much so the great, late actor Michael Clarke Duncan asked her to marry him. Known for his gentle, kind nature it's unlikely Duncan would fall for a she-devil. Still, the illusion continued. The Apprentice became the focal point for Donald Trump's larger-than-life personality and not a revelation of his real character.

Trump's outrage and nanosecond reactions, now seen on the political stage, do reveal his inability to stop, think and make rationale arguments for or against particular issues. Reactionaries rarely make effective leaders. Demonstrated in Trump's business practices, many in-the-know have reported that allegedly turn-over among Trump's staff rival Leona Helmsley's. As his empire grew, stories about Trump's ruthless management style have often seen in New York dailies.

We can't dispute that Trump knows what he wants and talks to the people without flourishes or stilted language. Qualities which helped him build his wealth and seen among many New York real estate moguls and brokers, too. These pitch-people have the street smarts and sales language to convince the most incredulous buyer to invest in properties. Hence, the major building boom which has attracted wealthy investors, many of whom rarely use their residences, and has pushed out regular workers from Manhattan properties.

And, like this picture, Trump has mastered the art of deception:

"Time is Money" by Gayle B. Tate (via Google Images)

Trump believes the hoopla which he speaks, making his fans believe in him. We can't dismiss an artist who creates convincing illusions, but we can look beneath the showmanship and see a candidate whose platform or stage lacks a solid foundation. Donald Trump's success has been giving his audience what they want to hear--as Hickey did in The Iceman Cometh, only to show his flaws when pushed to desperation. Lesson learned? Too dangerous to risk, enabling false idols such as a fictional character or a reality-show star.

I know you become such a coward that you'll grab at any lousy excuse to get out of killing your pipe dreams. And yet, as I've told you over and over, it's exactly those damned tomorrow dreams which keep you from making peace with yourself. So you've got to kill them like I did. (Hickey, Act III, The Iceman Cometh)

CORMORANTS UNDER ATTACK

Read my books and you'll find occasional references to tall, streamlined black birds which dive into and swim in the sea like Olympic athletes: their long beaks, spears that cut through the water as a chef's sharp knife through fish fillets, and their shiny wings stretch out like a lady's fan to dry. Cormorants often catch my attention when near their habitats: either off the shores or inland, where they congregate in large flocks.

If you look at my website, you'll see this pic above of the sophisticated "fishermen" along a Provincetown jetty. I took this shot as we "whale watchers" motored out of the harbor toward Stellwagen Bank in a large vessel. Most passengers were as oblivious to the seabirds as the double-crested cormorants were toward the human hordes dwelling on the decks.

The intended picturesque description above, a nod to my next book in the Shadowwater series, explains my admiration for these birds but, sadly, others don't share this fondness. Like their land-dwelling cohorts the common crow, cormorants have received a bad rap.

Many moons ago, NSTAR, now named Eversource, our electric utility on Cape Cod, decided to place towers on the north and south sides of Cedar Pond in Orleans, MA. Through the towers, the utility then threaded power lines on which cormorant flocks perch seasonally, from April through September. The avian multitudes' guano, however, has polluted the pond with nitrogen and phosphorus, creating algae blooms. Articles and editorials in The Cape Cod Times and other local papers that decried the deluge resulted in Eversource refusing to move or bury the power lines--too expensive--and the Orleans asking the USDA to come in to assess the situation. The department's solution? Shoot noisy rockets, or what officials euphemistically call "pyrotechnics" across the pond to scare away the offending cormorants. In fairness, the USDA had used this technique to frighten cormorants with some success. (www.capecodtoday.com )

Problem: cormorants knew better this time. They either left and returned in tentative waves of smaller flocks or moved to a nearby pond with power lines, Depot Pond. Meantime on top of the electrical towers, ospreys had nested, evidently ignored by the local officials and federal agency, for a friend discovered a dead osprey juvenile alongside the pond. I also read that a truck had been allegedly hit by a rocket but the driver not injured (Cape Cod Times, August 2014).

Now, I support the Orleans Pond Coalition and their fight to keep our town ponds clean. In addition, I can see the Orleans town officials' viewpoint by working out a solution that would be cost effective, expedient as well as harmless, in theory.

However, the basic problem has been overlooked: the utility placed the power lines, without considering the entire environmental impact. Moreover, the town's leaders didn't intervene at that time to raise objections--if there were protests they haven't been cited in recent reports--to the power lines. Now it appears the once endangered species, the osprey, have paid the price.

Scare tactics don't justify the end. Only accepting responsibility and correcting mistakes made in the beginning will solve the problem. And yet, the cormorants have been bullied but not beaten. Cormorants will return or move on but will always be here--at least I hope so.

NOTE: I chose not to submit this article as an editorial to local papers because I had an opinion piece published two weeks ago.

My passion extends to my books. Please check out: www.shadowwater.net for more information. Thanks!

HAPPENSTANCE & THE LOSS OF A LEGEND

Learned recently that Tony Stezko, Jr., a legend not just among those who follow fishing, but also as an Orleans fixture at Nauset Beach, had died in March. Surreal as Facebook still had Tony posted on my page as a "friend," including IM. As reported recently in the news, Facebook doesn't remove a user's account if the person has died. They assume a family member or friend will discontinue the account. In Tony's case, I'd like to believe that the person or persons chose to leave Tony Stezko's page open for others to post their condolences or stories, which they have. Readers may ask why didn't I know Tony had died through social media, the local papers or his Facebook page. No one posted a story via his site and I missed the announcement in the local papers about his death. Discovering therefore Tony Stezko had died, via a woman I hardly knew on a trip to Boston, floored me.

If I mentioned Tony mainly practiced catch and release, would you dismiss his past-time as being uneventful? Well, besides reading an earlier blog post of mine (FISHING REDUX, 6/23/14) which extols the joy of fishing, you might be interested in knowing that in the fishing world, and I mean the global community, Tony Stezko was and is a legend. He had a talent (holding the World Record at one point) for catching the largest, by weight, striped bass.

Why would someone whom I coincidently had met near his favorite saltwater fishing spot, Nauset Spit (Nauset Beach, Orleans), leave a sorrowful residue as I reflect upon his death? First, I have to credit my boyfriend for sparking the conversation about the best places to fish off Nauset. Neither of us had any idea that the man standing beside us with his clamming rake and bucket was an experienced caster, let alone renowned.

However, those reasons alone don't account for my sadness at his passing. After a brief conversation, he asked that my boyfriend--a fellow, passionate fisherman-- and I "friend" him on Facebook, leaving us struck by Tony's willingness to share. I would later take on the responsibility to befriend Tony as I follow social media, my boyfriend doesn't. Remarkably, Tony's few posts involved his family and friends, not, endless pics of his catches. I did IM Tony occasionally and as expected heard from him in a month or so. He didn't have ulterior motives--he had shared with us he had a girlfriend--he only wanted to answer questions about fishing

No, that day on the beach when I met Tony Stezko, his life-force struck me like a rogue wave breaking over me and catching me unawares. Affable, animated, genuine and generous, I couldn't stop listening to his stories and expertise. Like many notables, I have since heard about his vices and weaknesses which may have led to his untimely death at sixty-four (official cause: pneumonia after a long stretch in Cape Cod Hospital). Yes, a human elevated to legendary status for his passion, not necessarily for his personal behavior. That said, his pride when Tony spoke to us about his son, relatives that day on Nauset spit relayed Tony's endearing love for family.

As a writer, I wrestle with incorporating quirky characteristics Tony displayed and/or his tips about using lures, bait and other priceless information he imparted to my boyfriend about catching his prized stripers. Too soon, I think. Tony Stezko, Jr. died in March 2015. I have only had days to process the belated news. Then, I recall why I admired him. What made him different. He included me in his conversation as much as my boyfriend. I held equal weight, though fatigue had slowed me down and he noticed immediately I needed to sit, which I did. A keen observer, Tony Stetzko demonstrated a trait inherent to the best fishermen, and a skill any author would admire.

CRYSTAL CLEAR MEMORIES OF BELOVED LAKE - OPINION

LINK to article below: http://capecod.wickedlocal.com/article/20150803/NEWS/150809500

Via Orleans Pond Coalition

ORAL TRADITION RENEWED--WITH ONE CATCH

Attending live readings of books and/or poetry here on Cape Cod brings me back to the days when adults were able to sit still and listen for more than fifteen minutes. Last night when I went to a similar event in Brewster to deliver a reading, I re-discovered why that evening worked whereas other readings seldom do.

Delivery: any comedian will tell you the material has to be good, the timing better. Having coached students and business people on how to do presentations, I learned that preparation means not only practicing your copy in order to give oneself moments to make eye contact with the audience and to project the voice, but also how to perform. Whenever I've seen stories spoken by Native Americans in person or on the screen, I've been struck by the storyteller's cadence, mesmerized by their voice, their rhythm; their eyes.

The Greek poet, Homer, wrote his verse, The Iliad and The Odyssey, to be spoken, as were, centuries later, Shakespeare's plays. What did these performers have in common with past and present Native American storytellers? They expressed words as if they were using their voices to paint a canvas. They chose to be heard and seen.

In the setting of an intimate reading, however, some poets and writers don't feel obligated to "sing" their poetry or perform passages from books--a mistake.

Being a film fan, I've often been asked why more accomplished actors have come from England, and more recently Australia, than in the U.S. I respond the performers have been trained in the oral tradition, whether it be theatre, more often than not, or schools where the actors had to deliver speeches in class from a very early age or drama clubs. Even some of our country's acclaimed actors: Meryl Streep, Denzel Washington, Tom Hanks, Robin Williams, etc. started their careers in acting schools, theatre or improv. When I've heard these actors perform dialogue, I've never thought to myself: I wish he or she would speak more clearly. Or, they're saying the words but nothing comes out. My latter point being, speaking the written word cannot be equated with performing it.
On the Pulse of the Morning, at former President Bill Clinton's inaugural, she left her audience breathless. An actress, poet and writer, Angelou knew her audience. She showed when done with passion, reading a poem aloud will get listeners' attention.

Poets write for themselves; they share with the world their inner hearts and thoughts. Writers often also bare their souls as well as entertain. In a public forum, we mustn't forget an audience wants to listen, though only if we go beyond the paper and speak images. Animation or drama in the register of the voice or the expression of the eyes brings the audience into the picture.

BIRDS & A FEATHER: INSIDE THIS AUTHOR'S HEAD

 

Copyright 2015 Wendy Shreve

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

In my Shadowwater series, land and seabirds play a central role in the books. Yes, I love birds and like other nature admirers I think "Ahhh..." when I see a mother barn swallow feeding her young (video above). Yet, how often does the average bird-observer stop to watch the many battles which ensue between similar and disparate avian species?

When I find a feather on the ground, I not only ask myself from which bird did the feather fall but also, why? Often I can't answer the second question unless I've seen the action myself. The confrontations, particularly between smaller birds and larger ones, fascinate, to the point where I'll be that passenger in a car who'd yell,"Did you see that?" I'll have seen two or more sparrows chasing off a crow, e.g. Friends say that with my eagle eyes, forgive the unintentional alliterative pun, I can spot and identify several species within seconds of espying them at long distances. 

I've kept a secret well-hidden until today: I'm not an amateur or professional bird watcher. Don't wish to be. Others may savor walking around our tick-infested woods, binoculars slung around their necks and ears on the ready to hear a distinctive, high-pitched bird song. Aural identification will never be a preference. And binocular technique is for quickdraws.

No, whether sitting on a bench or running neighborhood errands I use built-in long distance vision, a.k.a. my eyes. In my books, many avian events either in descriptive narrative or discussed by characters are based on empirical observation. Of course, imagination comes into play when writing certain scenes--the paranormal element can go either way--but I try to stay as authentic as possible, including the disturbing moment I recounted in last week's post. I had actually seen the crow's brutal death and received corroboration via phone from a friend who looked up the raptor to confirm its identity. Then, I remind myself I write preternatural fiction.

When you watch a seagull hovering over a bay because it has noticed a tiny ripple on the surface, a sign dinner may be ready to be plucked, think about the drama that's about to play out; put yourself in the role of the predator and/or the prey. And if you find a feather on the ground, don't assume the bird has shed the feather--for a writer that quill becomes the instrument to a world of possibilities.

Others had their eyes on the whale ( I do love Humpbacks)
but I couldn't ignore the seagull feeding frenzy.
{Copyright 2015 Wendy Shreve}

Want more? For an author bio, more about my stories and reviews go to: www.shadowwater.net Or, buy books, Shadowwater & Dark Sea, Shadowwater II at your local indie bookstore. Also available via Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Smashwords or other on-line retail providers.