Nature

Rookery stretch

“And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life? “And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.…” Matthew 6:27-29

We arrived at the Venice Rookery just a bit after noon. Although it was a little cool, the sun was shining on a clear blue-sky with those huge white fluffy clouds that remind you of how wonderfully marvelous it is to be alive and outside enjoying all that this earth has to offer. We hadn’t been to the Rookery before and were anxious to see what birds, if any, might be nesting there. Even though it is Florida, I was not sure that any birds would be raising chicks in the cool weather this season. Raising babies is a dicey business even when the weather is nice and warm.

But there was no reason to worry…not one bit. There were birds – Cormorants, Egrets, Herons, and Anhingas – all going about the business of nesting and raising chicks in the Rookery….just like they should be.

anhinga When we arrived, it was relatively quiet. There were a couple other people there and one of the locals ambled over to give us the scoop on the Rookery and the lay of the land (or lake in this case). The site which is on Annex Road in Venice, Florida is not very large – a few acres perhaps – and consists of a smallish pond with a brushy tree island in the middle. It is on this island that the birds come to nest.

Egret 2 I was advised that the lake/island was man-made just for this purpose but I do not know for sure. Not that I question that the whole site was planned and developed by people but I did have some doubts. After all, it is not always a question of “if you build it, they will come.”¹

Egret display Consider Pelican Island National Wildlife Refuge (NWR). It is a beautiful spot on earth – we’ve been twice and we did not see nary a Pelican there on either trip. It appears that the pelicans have abandoned the island that is part of the refuge that the birds had apparently used as a rookery for hundreds, maybe thousands, of years. There is a beautiful park with trails and a lovely boardwalk that gives a great view of the island in the Indian River….but the White Pelicans no longer nest there. We left the refuge and drove some five or so miles down the road along the Indian River and, as we crossed the causeway bridge, discovered an island filled with pelicans and nests….of course, not where anyone could stop and look and take photographs. So I assumed that the Pelicans had decided to start up a new rookery on another island notwithstanding the efforts of the parks service to protect them at the old rookery site. So, pretty much the birds go where the birds go.

anhinga 2 But back to the Venice Rookery…..You can walk around the lake and see the Rookery from all sides or you can just take a seat on one of the many benches provided by the Audubon Society that leases the site/rookery from Sarasota County. Our impromptu guide apparently loves the place for he mentioned that he came every day to sit and watch/study the birds and I cannot think of a more relaxing and engrossing activity….wonderful way to spend your days.

heron and chick So who doesn’t love babies? There were actual babies to be seen in the nests although I have a tendency to call all birds – adult and juvenile – “babies”. Like everyone who comes to the site, I stopped immediately on the edge of the lake directly across from the island and started snapping pictures and excitedly saying, “Oh, look at the Great Blue Heron on the top….and the Anhingas on the tree on the left side….and wow, did you see that Great Egret displaying for his female companion?”. I was all over the place looking at the birds oohing and ahhing and trying to get just one more photograph. The birds were just so close and I was sure I’d get some great photos…well, I hoped so anyway. We walked around the lake – a relatively short and easy walk with benches all along the way so that there was always a place to take a moment and rest and watch.

My husband and I have a birding/hiking rule …… “If you come to a bench, sit on it”. We have found that benches can be few and far between sometimes on the trail and taking a moment to sit and be quiet can give the birds time to accept our presence in the area and come out of hiding….. possibly giving us a better view.

cormorants So, once I sort of calmed down a bit and we had checked out the rookery from all sides, we found a bench in a warm sunny spot and just let the atmosphere of the place surround us. As I sat listening to the chirping, cackling, peeping of the birds and feeling the warm sunshine on my face and back, I pondered the peacefulness and beauty of the place. Everything seemed so calm and serene. In a world filled with war and hate and all sorts of strife, the birds are oblivious to all that……just living out their lives, eating, sleeping, mating, nesting, raising their young…surviving. I was at once reminded of the “lilies of the field” that Jesus spoke of…….they do not work or spend their days worrying about things that they cannot change or prevent…they just live. And the lilies are beautiful and perfect in their situation – exactly where and when they should be at any given moment in time. Likewise, the birds in the Rookery seemed to be peacefully living out their lives with absolutely nothing to worry about.

pelican But all life has strife. An alligator also lives in the lake at the Rookery. He (or she) swam lazily near the island, I’m sure waiting patiently for some mishap or accident that would put a chick within his reach. I’m also sure his patience is rewarded at times….more than I like to think about. But the alligator is also a part of the “circle of life” and, perhaps, has babies too that need a parent’s help. Most animals are relatively helpless at birth and spend time in a nest (of sorts) close to a parent who provides food and stands guard providing sustenance, safety and security…but eventually, all babies mature and all must stand on their own. For all life on earth is precious and so very fleeting….time flows on…..the proverbial sands flowing too quickly through the hourglass.

We all must reconcile ourselves with this reality. We live, we struggle, we die…..and, although outward appearances show things to seemingly be peaceful and calm, there is always the struggle. It is what it is and it is what it will continue to be…..for as long as there is life on earth and as long as there are Egrets and Herons and Cormorants here at the Rookery.

snowy

Field of Dreams; Director – Phil Alden Robinson; Producers – Lawrence Gordon & Charles Gordon; Screenplay – Phil Alden Robinson; Based on the book, Shoeless Joe by WP Kinsella; Universal Pictures/TriStar Pictures; April 21, 1989; USA
Bible, New Testament, King James Version (KJV), Matthew 6:27-29.

They came here brain-sick, tired, confused, perhaps unwanted, but so alone…..sent away from their homes….to be treated and cared for at a time when care was mostly just locking them away. They needed to be understood and they needed compassion and love. Perhaps, they got some but the records do not show hope or love or compassion. The records only show the names….and more pain and suffering in the name of treatment. They lived here in buildings they had to build themselves and they died here…alone.

And someone, some nameless clerk, wrote their names for the last time in some ledger perhaps and assigned them a number. And their death certificates were signed and sealed and stored away. Then they were taken out through the hospital grounds, past the water tower, on past the waste treatment plant, over the bridge and into the woods where they were buried at the little cemetery on the top of the hill… they were laid to rest with the others whose final resting places were marked only by the small stones inscribed with the numbers that had been assigned to them at the end.

And the names of the people buried there were lost.

Over the years, the world changed and treatment protocols for mental illness changed and no one wanted to know how the patients had been treated back then or how many had died. For no one wanted to admit that such things were done to anyone….things done even with the hope that such methods might rid a soul of the demons and the pain that was so difficult for anyone back home to understand.

So, finally, the old state hospital was closed and the patients were all moved to other private facilities and all the records were stored away somewhere and then too, at last, lost. Few, if any, even cared to search the old records or to even try to find out the names of those who had disappeared into the old brick buildings never to be heard from again. And the land and the woods and the hillside with the graves were ceded to a land trust (in part) to preserve the land and the trust gave over the land to the birds and the foxes and the trees and the flowers and only they live there now.

So the graves with the numbered stones were lost.

In the spring, the trust decided to open the land and allow hikers and birders and nature-lovers and history buffs to enjoy the beauty of the fields and the woods out past the old hospital so we went along to enjoy a lovely “Walk for the Woods”. We worked our way through the hospital grounds, past the no trespassing signs, and the waste treatment ponds, through the chain link fence with its locked gate open today, across the bridge, and beyond to the meadow to walk with the others. And we found peacefulness and beauty as we lingered in the woods so we stopped to say hello to the land trust volunteers and to make a small donation for the continued preservation of the land.

And she was there with the other volunteers, tall and serious, answering questions and holding a basket of rose petals and a old plastic bowl filled with white paper strips. On each of the paper strips in small black type was written a name and a number. She handed us one of the paper strips and a handful of rose petals and pointed to the hillside behind her. Go up on the hillside, she told us, and find the stones. When you find them, find the number on your strip of paper. Then leave the rose petals on the grave and say the name out loud so that once again, the person buried there will have a name and someone will put the name and the number together and so once again someone will know who is buried here….the nameless one will be known again if only for a minute or two. For just a moment, you will know who was buried there so long ago.

So we did. We wandered up the hillside and meandered among the stones and we noticed that others had been there and left rose petals on the grave sites. We sat on an old log in front of a wooden cross and enjoyed the serenity of the forest and wondered about the people buried there. Where had they come from….how had they ended up buried in these woods under those numbered stones……what pain and torment they had endured because no one really understood their illness….and had anyone loved them and missed them and had wondered what had happened to them all those years ago? And, finally, we found the stone with the number we’d been given and we scattered our rose petals on the grave, and we said a prayer for the one whose name we spoke although time has long erased any good that could come from praying for the dead buried there. No matter – we prayed….thankful that things now are not what they used to be…with hopes that it will never be like that again for those who are depressed and brain-sick and alone…and lost.

For more information about:

Crownsville State Hospital (Originally Hospital for the Negro Insane)
Crownsville Hospital Cemetery (Burial grounds for patients from the hospital)
Crownsville Cemetery Grave Search Results
Article on Historian Janice Hayes-Williams (Local historian trying to identify those buried in the Cemetery)
Scenic Rivers Land Trust (Preserving the land behind the hospital/Bacon Ridge Natural Area)
Bacon Ridge Natural Area (BRNA) (Conservation easement that includes the site of the Hospital Cemetery)
Walk for the Woods 2015 (Annual fund-raiser that allows the public into BRNA)

Birding Boomers

Out on another road trip looking for birds and whatever comes up next.

Consider the Lilies/Venice Rookery

Numbered Stones