thanks be to...  (sermon FUUF Dec 1, 2013)
I'm not proud of it, but I admit it makes me cringe when I hear the
happy winner thanking God for his victory, or even worse, when someone
thanks God for healing from their illness or that they were only
moderately injured in their car crash. I get it that we each
experience the world and God differently, and that my path isn't
everyone's way. And I admit part of my problem is I wish I could
"thank god" with them, without having to sort through all the knots in
the strands of my mind.

I imagine I stand with many of you in that in my mid teen years, when
I was becoming myself, I was horrified to realize that the religion I
had accepted as true, didn't make any rational sense, it didn't stand
the test of reason. I truly thought something was wrong with me.
Everyone around me could praise Jesus and expect to go to heaven, why
wasn't I getting this?

 I read my first atheist writing when I was about twenty...Will and
Ariel Durant...and was ecstatic.....I WASN'T alone in the world. I
still struggled to believe for a few years, then gave it up. I could
live my life and raise my children without doing the mental
calisthenics of Squeezing religion into my world view.

There was one glitch in my secure little blanket of nonfaith. It would
show up from time to time, but always In November. thanksgiving.
giving thanks. I feel a real sense of thankfulness for my life, for my
children, for beauty, I appreciate all my abundant blessings. I want
to express gratitude. I believe it is good to be thankful, to be
mindful of the good things we experience. "counting our blessings"
makes us more aware of each good thing.  G. K. Chesterton wrote,
"thanks are the highest form of thought; and gratitude is happiness
doubled by wonder."

 But where do I direct my Thankfulness, my appreciation, my gratitude?
to God? to Jesus? to a Great spirit? To Gaia or one of the host of
appropriate gods or goddesses in charge of that particular thing for
which i felt thankful? To Luck or Fortune? To nothing at all, just
figuring  that thankfulness is an emotion, a mix of chemicals in my
body, like happiness or desire, fear or anger?

In writing this sermon, i googled "thankful" and "atheist" and mostly
got that atheists are thankful to people who make things
happen...farmers for food, scientists for medicine and technology, the
friends and family in their lives who love and help them. That is all
very nice, and it is good to appreciate  but it doesn't really address
the thankfulness we feel for that which is given to us in GRACE:
The beauty of dawn adding color to the shadowy world, or the
awesomeness of the window to infinity seen in a clear night sky.
Holding a new life in your arms,  all full of future and possibilities,
thankfulness for the beauty of music, be it the song of the wind
touching leaves, or a clear human voice singing in the night, or a
whole orchestra or jazz band pounding into our senses.

I remember only one thing from a philosophy professor who was a
Christian.  he said that in order to appreciate beauty you had to
believe in God, the creator of the beauty. He said There is no beauty
in random evolution. I knew in my gut this was wrong thinking, but
just didn't have the experience  to disprove it, so that thought has
stayed with me all these decades, saying "prove me wrong".  Is this
need to be thankful the hardwiring of God into my brain?    I Don't
know....so I lived with that little dichotomy in my world view...I was
thankful, but I didn't know where to direct my thanks.

What value is in thankfulness? It is a happY feeling. Thankfulness is
expressed with a smile. It lifts us up. It makes us more aware and
therefore we actually enjoy the blessings for which we are thankful.
But does it matter?  I think maybe thankfulness is only meaningful
when it is an action. GIVING thanks means acting out our thankfulness.
It means doing something to express the thankfulness..."passing it
forward." not just saying the words, but making something happen.

Fast forward on this telling of "the journey"  to seven years ago. I'd
had a disruption in my life and was flailing around, unnerved and
unmoored. I needed something to hang on to. I was happy in my atheism,
but I was looking for community, and stepped through these doors.
We here at Foothills UU have learned to nurture each other, and I am
mightily thankful for that.  I feel that for myself I have been
receiving the nurture, and have started to be able to give some back,
but I hope to find a way to also make a verb of thanks, and stand with
members of this faith community as we reach out into the world around
us and make a wider circle of healing and hope and love.

Ive heard this same story from others of you: i was looking for
Community, and I got it, but I also got something I wasn't looking
for. I got a whole new way to look at the spiritual. A lot of this is
from the series of books we have read in book club, and from the many
varied sermons I've listened to here, in talking with many of you, and
especially, learning from our pastor. I became more open, more
receptive. I learned a new language, or rather a new way of
understanding the language I thought I knew. From Forrest Church, from
Martin Buber,  from Karen Armstrong I learned to see  that god wasn't
a  being, that the God I rejected was just too small in definition.
That any word I used to describe God would fail, for being inadequate.

From Thich Nhat Hanh I learn that everything is a miracle.  He says,
“People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle.
But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin
air, but to walk on earth.    Thich says..Every day we are engaged in
a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds,
green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes.
All is a miracle.”.

Karen Arnstrong writes in "the spiral  staircase":  “The fact that my
“prayer” seems directed toward no person, no end, is something that
many of the theologians I have studied had experienced. This, after
all, was what I had been writing and talking about. I had constantly
explained that the greatest spiritual masters insisted that God was
not another being, and that there was Nothing out there. Yet for all
this, at some level I had not relinquished the old ideas. I was still
seduced by the realistic supernatural theism that I thought I had left
behind, still childishly waiting for that clap of thunder, that streak
of lightning, and the still, small voice of calm whispering in my ear.
 I had not truly accepted the hard, irreducible fact that “there is
nothing again.”
The Greek Fathers of the church had loved the image of Moses going up
the mountain and on the summit being wrapped in an impenetrable cloud.
He could not see anything, but he was in the place where God was. This
cloud of unknowing was precisely it. I had been expecting the thick
mist to part, just a little, and had not really known, with every
fiber of my being, that I would never know, would never see clearly."


So, for me,  can  I live with mystery, with knowing that I will not
know? I can't go back to the old me who thought something had to be
measurable to be real. That would be like a modern scientist rejecting
quantum physics and saying, She believes only in Newton. I can be
thankful and send my thanks into the mystery, I can send my thanks
into my community of friends here, and everywhere. I can try to make
giving thanks an action verb, and live my life in a way that will make
the lives of those near me possible just a little better. I can not
worry whether or not I believe in God, I can just know that I am loved
and be open to the grace  that is freely available.

Peter Mayor teaches us that if we are aware, we will experience God in
everything.
This morning, outside I stood
And saw a little red-winged bird
Shining like a burning bush
Singing like a scripture verse
It made me want to bow my head
I remember when church let out
How things have changed since then
Everything is holy now
It used to be a world half-there
Heaven’s second rate hand-me-down
But I walk it with a reverent air
‘Cause everything is holy now

I can be thankful to be always in the presence of God, even though I
remain fuzzy on what that is,  because  everything is holy now.

Living Water. (sermon for water communion FUUF August 2012)

My mother says, while most people describe their travels by roads and towns, her daughter names rivers. I have lived by the Monongahela and the main, the wWabash, the Detroit, the Little, and the tennessee. I have visited the Thames and the Tiber, the Virgin and the Columbia, the Delaware and the Colorado. I love to follow rivers on a map. I love to look at rivers, watching the water in constant change. I love to put my feet in wild rivers, and become part of the river. When I was younger, I thrilled to test my skill and courage against the rapids. Now I just chart a mental path through them.

What is so fascinating about water, and especially moving water? Water is life. We start life in the water of the womb , our lungs filled with fluid. We are born to the air with the breaking of the water, the first flowing water we experience.

People have followed, lived by, been nurtured by rivers since before we were human. Several cultures use the snake as a symbol for life and fertility. The snake symbol can represent a river. The Rainbow Serpent is a common motif in the art and mythology of Aboriginal Australia. It represents the snake-like meandering of water across a landscape. The Hopi of the American southwest also use the snake motif to represent rivers, water,  life and fertility. At the climax of the  Hopi snake dance, snakes are released into the fields to bring fertility.  The snake represents the life giving water.

In the desert, the river is the current bringing life, and rivers are life in motion. I remember standing in a high place looking over a huge valley north of Brice Canyon in Utah.  Red rocks, hoodoos, bluffs were breath-takingly gorgeous. But here is what really made them beautiful: all the red was accented by a strip of bright green in the valley floor. We descended from the mountain on a long switchback road, through all the Martian red.  And then we arrived on the bottom. A landscape of the occasional dull green sage or cactus suddenly burst into bright green cottonwood, tamarind and grasses. Then we reached the water. Calf creek, maybe 20 feet at its widest, bubbling happily along, bringing all this life to the desert. Deer were taking a drink, and humans had a campground. Children were splashing in the water, and upstream, a fisherman was trying to fool fish onto his hook. I have always thought  I loved the desert, with its spareness, its clean lines, its dry air and deep blue skies, but honestly, it is the desert RIVERS that I love.

The biblical poets, living in their dry land, felt the soul soothing effect of living water. No wonder water is used over and over to sing songs of the spirit.

 Still water can be beautiful, and peaceful, and inspiring of beautiful poetry and awareness of spirit.  Maybe today someone has brought in water from a lake or pond. This is nourishing water, a thick soup of life, bringing peace and restoration. The psalmist in the desert wrote: "He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul".

Jesus uses flowing rivers as a metaphor for the holy spirit
Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’”

Again the  psalmist sings of Joy caused by the river:
There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacles of the most high

 and Isaiah sings in ecstacy.
 "Then shall the lame man leap as an hart, and the tongue of the dumb sing: for in the wilderness shall waters break out, and streams in the desert."

We have the picture of John the Baptist, standing in the river Jordan,  baptizing the sinless Jesus and proclaiming him Messiah.  Did this really happen? I neither know nor care, but it is a lovely story of life beginning in the river, and it is part of our cultural mythology. Maybe the fundamentalists are on to something with their insistence on baptism in the living waters of the river. The symbolism is powerful. The river gives life and cleanses, speaks of the holy spirit and joy.

Even in the lush lands, rivers are the corridors of life. Most of the great cities have  grown from riverside villages. Name any city in the world, and there is a river associated with it. The great human migrations have been along the rivers. Americans followed the Hudson, the Ohio, the Shenandoah, then the Mississippi, the Missouri and the Platte. They were the first highways, sustaining life while the people traveled to new places of hope and opportunities.


Rivers are water  with purposeful motion, going somewhere,  doing something. Cutting canyons, eroding mountains, carrying nutrients, bringing the water of life.

Last week we sang
And by union what we will can be accomplished still
Drops of water turn a mill, singly none, singly none.

As the drops of water form rivulets and the creeks come together, so do we come together,  to work, to share, to laugh and love. As all rivers run to the oneness of the sea, we, in our shared experience, come to realize our oneness with all humanity, and ultimately, with all that is.

I started writing this piece early in my UU experience, and go back to work on it from time to time. It has grown as I have grown.

Rock and water

I tried to stand on  the rock,
but I had outgrown it.
It wouldn't support me.
 I knew I must yield myself to the water,
but I was afraid.
The water was unknown,
to what would I cling?

I left the rock behind.
Not so much by my will.
Instead, I was carried away by the force of the water.
It was freeing. Preconceptions  gone.
No revealed knowledge.
Unlimited possibilities.

Freedom to explore, yes, but freedom is also FROM.
There are so many negatives. Not this, no to that.
But where are the YESSES?

Why does the rock support everyone else, but not me?
What is wrong with me?
I flail around in the water.
I am angry.

 My stream brings me to a larger one.
Here are other people who have leapt
From their rocks of childlike faith.
Some are flailing around like me.
BUT  some embrace the fluidity and prosper in it.

There is hope!
I give up grieving that the solid is not for me
I discover a new truth
The YES to center life
I believe in US! WE!

Giving love and support to each other,
SEEING and encouraging each other
As each of us swims our independent journey,
Confident in our own strengths,
Yet returning to the community
For joyous reunion
And sharing of learned truths
As we move and change and think and grow and love.

TEXAS!

Friday March 1. American history day

We drove 19 miles to the LBJ Ranch, a National Historic Park. They give you a self guiding cd as you drive around the ranch, stopping at various places. They talk about how much Johnson loved being here,and I agree, it is a very soothing place. Rolling grasses, LBJ's Hereford herd, rows of huge live oaks, and the gentle Pedernales river. A ranger took us on a tour of the "Texas White House", restored after Lady Bird's death in 2007 to its 1960's look. We spent all day touring the different sites, including a working farm restored to early 1900's. I saw how to start with milk, work through yogurt, to various cheeses.
We finally tore ourselves away and drove the hour to San Antonio in Friday afternoon traffic, got lost downtown looking for our hotel, but finally arrived, settled in, and took the hotel shuttle to the river walk. It's a different place at night! To complete our Texas culinary tour, we shared a BBQ 5 meat sampler plate, with salad, beans, slaw, and mashed potatoes, served by a full of himself waiter. Last adventure of the journey was walking back to the hotel in the dark, with a map that we had a lot of trouble seeing to read. We finally made out the street signs, and felt justified in that big BBQ meal to fuel our walk.
We are ready to plan our next adventure!

TEXAS! Days 3 and 4 at Big Bend and then the evening at Fredricksburg
Wed. Feb 27
Tour and walk day.
We dilly dallied around the room til mid morning. Our hectic schedule caught up with us. When we finally got organized we drove to the south west corner of the park. We stopped at the visitor center at Castelon and talked with the volunteer. There wasn't much there, and it felt isolated. Four miles of desert road past the ranger station is the trailhead for Santa Elena Canyon. We walked across the wide dry bed of Terlingua creek. The trail climbed in switchbacks over a hill then gradually descended to the river in the canyon.it was perfect weather, and a beautiful trail. I was gloriously happy to be walking. But we had more places to go. Our next stop was the Dorgan-Sublett places, the ruins of the ranch houses. We ate our lunch of ham and cheese sandwich and yogurt in the ruins of the lower house, then walked up the Mesa to the upper Sublett house and the Dorgan house. The front wall of the Dorgan house remains, with windows looking out on mountains. Also remaining is a double fireplace made of petrified wood. It must have been beautiful in the house with that fireplace.
We continued on back up the Castelon Road toward home in the Chisos, stopping at different viewpoints. We walked again at Burro Mesa pour off. That was a mistake, we were walking on a dry gravel creekbed into a box canyon. The gravel was thick and gave under our feet like sand, so was hard walking. The canyon kept twisting. We would approach a corner, sure this would be the last turn and we would see the end of the canyon, but there would be yet another turn. We finally gave up and trudged back to the car. We also walked at the Sam Nail place. A windmill there creates a little oasis. We saw a cardinal in the brush. Dinner at the lodge with sunset, moon, and panoramic photography (playing with settings on the cameras). In the visitor center there was a display of a huge mountain lion. At the trailhead to the best sunset viewing spot there were signs warning of lion activity. I decided to make my photos from the sidewalk.

Thurs Feb 28
We calculated that we didn't need to leave the park until12p to arrive in Fredricksburg in time for dinner. So off we went one last time. First stop was Lost Mine trail at the highest point of the park road. The trail climbed up for a mile to a gorgeous lookout spot. We climbed on some rocks and photographed each other in silly poses. Weren't quite up to doing yogi balancing poses on the narrow ridge, though. Then we drove to the easternmost part of the park to explore Borquillos canyon. The trail climbs over a little hill before descending to the river. A young man sat on a small bluff on the Mexican side singing to the hikers, hoping for contributions in a jar on the American side. We walked into the pretty canyon until we ran out of trail, then returned.
We drove north out of the park through the rough desert, stopped to chat with the border patrol, and arrived back in civilization at Stockton, where we stopped to make silly pictures with the artwork in the visitor center. Then 300 miles of I 10 to an exit an hour west of Fredricksburg. The last hour was fun, driving in the Texas hill country. We drove along the YO game ranch, spotting exotic animals, kept for the hunters. (I know....mixed feeling there, but it was fun to see them.....like a drive through zoo).
Fredricksburg is a German tourist town, and we had the choice of many different German restaurants. By the time we got settled in and ready for dinner, it was 8pm, and the town was pretty much rolled up. We ate at Der Lindenbaum. Bobbi had schnitzel, I had goulash with noodles. (I still can't look at a schnitzel after my trip through Austria and Switzerland in 2008!)

Driving across west Texas and Big Bend NP Day 1

Monday feb 25. Driving across west Texas. Crazy windy. In and out of scattered showers. Absolutely needed two hands, because gusts would try to push you off the road. Texas hill country is just what we were looking for. Wild and rugged. East of Stockton there were MILES of windmills on ridges on both sides of the highways. Good use of all that wind. The towers for the power lines were under construction. We got to Big Bend at three pm, and stopped to add to our series of yoga poses at entrance signs. We were checked into our room at the Chisos lodge by 5pm. We provisioned ourselves at the store with a quart of milk, a loaf of bread, a package of ham, and a block of cheese. This provided us with two breakfasts and two picnic lunches, so we only had to buy suppers out. We also had one breakfast of oatmeal for me, cereal for Bobbi, from the store.We walked up to the lodge dining room at sunset to enjoy dinner and the glowing sky through the Window, a break in the mountains forming the Chisos basin.

Tues feb 26
Today was our day in the river. It was my first time steering a canoe. I've always been the brawn in the front seat. God I loved turning that boat where I wanted it to go. (also, it let Bobbi be the photographer). I loved going down the green river in the yellow brown desert., slipping through the water like I was a corpuscle in a vein of blood, part of the river, part of the earth. The Rio Grand ( Rio Brave del Norte) is a gentle stream, it just slides along quietly, with occasional little shoots. Patrick, the guide, resplendent in his rasta hat, said the rapids were category 1.37 (he made that up). Often we would sit with the paddles across our laps, just gliding, listening to the quiet. Soft water sounds, bird calls, plop of a turtle, our own breath, looking up at the river cliffs, or in open areas, out across the desert to the jagged mountains, this is harmony. Patrick also taught us two sayings to express his river philosophy...."no hurries, no worries," and " we're on our agenda of total flexibility."

The morning started cool, and we had lots of clothes. They came off piece by piece. Unfortunately we came to the first hot springs early in the trip, and the air was still cool. Bobbi and I were afraid to get all the way in, because we thought we'd freeze when we got out, so we just stood in it to our knees. Even that was wonderful. We came to the second hot springs at midday. We stayed there about an hour and a half. Unfortunately, this springs has easy road access, so there are always people there.

 It is a developed hot springs from early 1900s. There are ruins of a small hotel, store and the owner's house. He ceded the land to the future park in 1939. (it became a park in 1944). There were picto- and petroglyphs on the cliffs dated 1000 to 200 BCE. The springs are enclosed by the foundation of the now gone bathhouse. We could sit on the rim, float around in the middle, or recline in the built in concrete tubs on the edge. People kept coming and going, and talking too much, but it's their pool too. The best was three young girls from Austin on a camping adventure. They covered themselves in river mud. They were feeling the Goddess!
Patrick served an elaborate picnic on the river beach, cold cuts, cheese, lettuce, pickles, tomatoes, fritos and salsa, apples oranges, and cookies. And PEANUT BUTTER. We acted like we'd never seen peanut butter before. We spread it on apples til they were gone. Then we spread it on chocolate chip cookies. We were eyeing the fritos as a peanut butter delivery medium, but finally restrained ourselves, and waddled back to the hot springs.

After taking out at Rio Grand campground, Patrick took us to an area where he knew javelinas hung out, and we had our first sighting of the piglike animals.

After a brief rest at the lodge, we took off again for Terlingua, a tiny town just west of the park. People live humbly in this ramshackle town. Patrick called it "a drinking town with a boating problem." We drove on to Terlingua Ghost Town., stopping first at the cemetery, where the graves were all mounds, covered in small flat rocks, and there were many shrines and candles and plain weathered wooden crosses stuck in the mounds. People have built new houses within the ruined walls of old houses. Our destination was the Starlight Theater, a restaurant reconstructed from an old theater, which for many years was just roofless walls. It is now an upscale restaurant. We tried out beer from Big Bend Brewery, and sausage made from wild boar and deer. On the night drive home we had three wildlife sightings: a rabbit ran across the road with a smooth, non hopping gait, a small rodent (kangaroo rat?) scurried across the road, and a large bird, great horned owl? Labored across the road, making all sorts of flappings, and just barely making the crossing in front of us. Don't know how it was for him, but we were pretty scared.

Texas! Friday through Sunday Yoga Workshop

We arrived at the La Quinta with 15 minutes to spare before Yoga with Kate Potter began. it was everything I'd hope for. Mildly physical, very spiritual. This was the sixth time in seven years she'd come to South Padre, and many of the people knew each other from attending the workshops. It was a very friendly bunch.
I loved doing yoga poses while listening to Kate's low pitched soothing voice. I especially love hearing her say "releeeeeeeeeeaaaaaassssssssss" dropping down low in shavausana. Bobbi said it was hypnotic. the workshop revolved around the five trunk chakras, and Kate had created vinyassas to explore each: Earth, secure. Water, sensuous. Fire, strength. Air..heart love, play. Throat..truth, creativity.
It was always physically engaging , energizing, but never too much, and Kate would lecture and story-tell in between. She had created a special sequence for Fire chakra that she wanted us to do blindfolded so we could feel our bodies in space without external stimulation. We practiced several times with eyes open, then put on blindfolds and did it. She was ecstatic , said we looked wonderful. She said "happy teacher, happy teacher. Let's do it again." So we did! It was great fun.
The last session was a speaking, writing workshop. We sat in a circle and told something we had learned in the workshop. Then we did a writing exercise, describing things we thought or wanted from each chakra. Then it was time to take group photos and hug goodby.

The beach part of the weekend was kind of a bust, because it was cold and windy. Bobbi and i did go for a short walk Saturday. I was barefoot and had to keep my head down because the beach was strewn with Portugese man of wars. Blue bubbles everywhere. Sunday morning the sun came out and the wind dropped. Perfect beach weather, but we could only enjoy it from 11:30 to 12:30. We used the time to do a photo shoot of ourselves doing yoga poses on the beach, and then sat on the deck and watched the ocean.

the locals told us we had to eat a Texas Whattaburger, a fast food chain, so we did on the trip back to san antonio. It was ok. we also passed through the border patrol checkpoint about 50 miles north of Harlingen. The guard looked in the car, asked "US citizens?" and waved us through. Life is easy if you are white middle aged ladies.
Bobbi thinks she saw three antelope hanging out with cows. Driving through San Antonio at night was a bit edgy, because Bobbi was on the phone making us a hotel reservation, and Harold, the gps voice was loudly telling me all the little turns to make, and giving crazy road names, when I was just as happy following the green signs. We made it through the city and continued driving to our hotel in Boerne, Arriving just before 8p. We ordered in pizza and played with our photos.

Texas! Days 1 and 2--San Antonio Riverwalk and Padre Island National Seashore

Feb 21. We drove from the airport to downtown San Antonio and felt like we teleported to a foreign country, Old ornate buildings, Spanish style. There was the Alamo compound right in the middle of the city, graced by live oaks. The air was light and cool, and the historical ghosts whispered to us. We spent some time wandering around the compound, then we walked across the street and down the Hyatt steps to an entrance to the River Walk. We were first greeted by an enterprising barman who twisted our arms to get us to buy beers to drink while walking around. (We chose a Texan beer, Ziegenbock). We walked out into the river walk and I was just floored by how much more it was than I had expected. I was reminded of Venice. (the gondolas were replaced by water taxis). There is even a Bridge of Sighs. We managed to get mildly lost for a bit.

 We shared a meal at a Mexican restaurant, then dragged ourselves away from the beautiful river walk to drive down to Corpus Christie.

After checking into a VERY nice Hyatt Place we drove over to the National Seashore as the sun set. The surf had been monstrous today. There is a sand road on the beach, and you can car camp on the beach. However, today, the road was not looking very safe. The waves were coming up to it. The National seashore looked unearthly in the twilight with it's rolling dunes. We left as the darkness descended. We tried out Doc's, a seafood restaurant on the sound side of the island. We could see it, but had trouble getting to it. We had to cross under a bridge in the darkness, and had trouble seeing where was land and where was water. (When we saw it in the light the next day, we saw all was land, but at night it looked like water. We were just scaring ourselves). After we finally found the road and got to Doc's, we were very happy with our fish and ourselves.

Feb 22
We drove back to the Padre Island national seashore to see it in daylight. We played on the entrance sign doing yoga poses. It was hard not to get blown over while balancing in the wind. At the entrance station I bought my lifetime senior pass. We asked the ranger about the battery of cameras lining the road at the station. She explained it was a live feed to homeland security. Bobbi felt concerned about the goofy face she'd made while the cameras flashed last night.
We drove to the bird island basin where there was a small campground. That's about all we saw there. We drove on the the visitor center and beach. As we walked across the deck we saw a circle of people with a ranger. We stopped to listen and learned they were about to embark on a three hour birding tour, so we joined up. The volunteer ranger gave us a Walkie talkie and told us to follow closely in our car. We went back to the same area we'd just been and got our "bird eyes" on. She had given us a check list of birds we might see. We checked off 25 species! It was wonderful to really see. She also took us back to the drive on part of the beach, which was much better today, Bobbi bravely drove on the beach. People camped on the beach and fished. We saw a bird tangled up in a garbage bag. We had to tear ourselves away to travel on, but first stopped at another fish restaurant on the lagoon for fish and chips.