Turtles Turtles Everywhere

Join the adventure to see Loggerhead Turtles hatch in Australia.  Learn facts about sea turtles.  A wonderful children's book to entertain and teach little ones about turtles.

Turtles Turtles Everywhere

ELEPHANTS DO CRY

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ELEPHANTS DO CRY

Deadly Feud - excerpt from Chapter 3

It was Abram that the killer overheard telling Mark about his dad’s letters about life in Germany his dad had kept and that he was curious about them but would never ask his dad to show them to him. The killer suspected that Hansen had probably detailed those events years ago in those letters. Letters. He needed to get his hands on those letters. When the Hansen’s fled Germany he had also left behind a bank account. The account contained money he had earned from the Cotton Exchange. The killer knew about the account. He had worked briefly at the bank and was there when Hansen had opened the account. Those accounts had not been seized as a part of the Nazi money grab of funds, mostly Jewish funds. They still sat there after all these years. There would be a small fortune. Hansen owed him. After all, he had not turned him into the Party for being rebellious and fleeing the fatherland. The killer had served in the Nazi army, believing in Hitler’s solution for Germany. He had grown quite a “taste” for killing while in the army, Jews especially. He was brutal, unforgiving, and took every opportunity to steal anything he could get his hands on. Why not, the Jews had plenty of riches to steal particularly jewelry. When the war was over, many of the officers were being tried for war crimes. He had escaped any punishment as he had been careful not to have his crimes uncovered. All the booty he had stolen was buried in a local farmer’s field up against the tree line. Out of sight from prying eyes. He had never married, taking out his pleasures on local prostitutes instead. He had quite the reputation for being sadistic. The local women shuddered when they saw him coming, usually pushing the new girls up front to be selected rather than to be subjected to his savagery. There had even been a couple of girls go missing through his inhumane treatment of them, but of course no one cared so he was never caught.

Racism is everywhere

I grew up in the south – the deep south of the US, where racism was rampant when I grew up. Blacks lived on the other side of town, used a different bathroom than whites and even a different entrance into a building, at least the building they were allowed in. I admit that I had felt that divide my entire life but never had I experienced what it was like to be treated differently, to be hated until 2013. I had just started a new job and had to catch two different trains to get to work. I worked on the fringes of Brisbane CBD where the brewery was, along with car repair places. Our offices faced the Brisbane River. I couldn’t be happier until one day I was on the train when a tall large boned woman sat down next to me. If you have ever been on a train, the seats are not all that wide. She kept putting her elbow in my side until I spoke up and ask her to be careful. I wasn’t rude, I just asked politely. She immediately got in my face and called me names telling me to go back the #%$& where I came from. I was floored. I went on to work and just dismissed the incident. As I said, I had to change trains which I did at Central station in Brisbane CBD. One morning after the incident on the train, I was learning up against the wall and talking on the phone to my cousin in the US waiting for my train to arrive when I saw this same woman. She immediately began to chase me. Now we are on the platform which is about 100 feet wide with two tracks running on each side. I ran around searching for someone, anyone to help. I spotted a train employee and ran to them. Their reaction was they thought it was some sort of domestic dispute to which I replied I don’t know this woman. The next incident was when I was at the train station near my work waiting to board the train when she saw me and came up to me and began to scream at me. I immediately got on the phone and called the police asking for them to meet me at Central Station. This was when my angel appeared. A little woman who became my dearest friend came to me and said “I have seen her to do to another woman. She shoved her out of the train door when it opened. The lady she shoved was Asian.” From that moment, I was experiencing and finally having a deep appreciation for what people of other beliefs, races, and colors have experienced their entire lives, racism. The police took the incident seriously and recorded the information. But, the lady didn’t stop. She began to follow me, take pictures of me. I was terrified she would push me onto the train tracks. And, of course, out of all those people who just stood there and watched these incidents, no one did a thing except for my dear friend. One particular incident I took the arm of a man in line and said can you help me to which he replied “Get your $#@* hand off me.” So getting help was out of the question. The police suggested I take the train at a different time. In other words, change up my routine. I thought back to Sept 11th and thought I’ll be damn if I’m going to let this woman run my life. After the next incident I was so shook up I went to the police station near where I worked and filed another report. I wanted it lodged as a hate crime because that is what it was. I couldn’t believe I was talking about a hate crime. A concept alien to me, something I thought I would never have to face. As it turned out, a friend of the constable who took my report boarded the train the same place as this lady who by now I had obtained a photo of for the police. And, it also happens that the lady accosted the friend of the constable. Her biggest mistake. The police then paid her a visit and with the threat of being banned from using public transport she stopped her tirade against me. By then the racist lady had stalked me, threatened me all because I was American. I was different. She didn’t care who I was or what I had accomplished in life, who my friends were. She knew nothing about me other than I was different. This gave made me take a long hard look at my southern upbringing that was ingrained in me. I saw through different eyes, tolerant eyes, compassionate eyes. Eyes that I had not really looked through properly in all my years of living in the south. And, now I have moved back to the south and I see racism has not left. It is still here. Not made better by protests or riots. Still black and white, rich and poor, employed and unemployed. I would say to you, put on their shoes for just a moment like I did and see just how tough it is being different. And, ask yourself this question “Why must I hate someone because of who they are, what color they might be, where they went to school or where they live or even who they love?” Now pay very close attention to your answer.

ELEPHANTS DO CRY

Although the science world may not be able to explain whether elephants tears are a result of emotion, their behavior to me suggests they do have emotions. We had travelled by van to a remote area in the Thailand jungle to ride the elephants. I was so excited. This was something on my bucket list and I always wanted to be up close with an elephant. I had a lot to learn that day, a lot I did not know until later. For one, Asian elephants have smaller ears than their African counterpart and they are actually an endangered species. The dark truth about the Asian elephants in Thailand tourist industry is shocking. Elephants are intelligent and friendly creatures. As tourists, we want to ride them and watch them do tricks. The horrible fact is that the elephants need to be tamed before this can be accomplished and the taming process is brutal and begins at a very young age. This crush of the elephant spirit is called Phajaan, pronounced ‘fajohn’ It involves taking baby elephants from their mothers and confining them to a small space where they cannot move. They are beaten into submission, starved and the use of bull hooks are employed to control the animal. Traditionally they were used for logging or military use, a part of Thai culture, now most are used to entertain the tourists. So, I was excited as I crawled atop this massive beast, completely ignorant of its abuse. We started through the jungle trail all the while the guide was riding on his head whipping him with a stick. Still I was oblivious. I was having fun, even taking a turn at riding atop his head which I must tell you is no easy feat with this giant creature lumbering back and forth. Earlier we had watched elephants hit a ball around an arena and even paint. What and experience. The real experience that day was yet to come. The trip was then over and we were able to feed our elephants bananas. It was then I noticed my elephant had tearing streaming down its face. Tears. I had no idea. I patted him gently, talking to him and still tears flowed. It was time to leave and I could not drag myself away from this creature I now had a bond with. Eventually I did have to leave, heartbroken that the elephant and I had made a connection but that I had to leave him behind. So whether science believes or doesn’t believe that elephants cry, I am convinced they do. My heart was forever touched by this massive giant who cried.

Deadly Feud - excerpt from chapter 2

The coroner arrived just past eight. Triplett had asked all the basic questions and now it was up to the coroner to figure this out. Howard Marcus was the lead coroner and had been for about ten years. He didn’t really know the Hansen’s and had little dealings with Triplett. Not many questionable or unattended deaths occur in this community and he had a large area to cover. This was probably just another farming accident or natural death. Triplett immediately got the impression that the coroner was “put out” from having to come all this way after quitting time. Triplett and Marcus made their way to the shed. Triplett had asked Abram, Mark and his grandmother to stay inside the house until the coroner was finished with his initial examination. He certainly didn’t want Ms. Hansen to see her husband lying there. It would be too much of a shock for her. It was hard enough for him to witness it. Marcus began his inspection of the body which was difficult considering it was pitch black in the shed. Triplett stood by with the flashlight to help him examine Hansen, wishing he was a million miles from there. “Looks as though he has had a blow to the back of the head, he said as he rolled the body slightly. Don’t think this is the normal farming accident.” Marcus advised and pointed to the red stained shovel in the far corner of the shed. “We will need to seal off the area and see if there are any prints on that shovel.” He added.

Little Green Hat

On 24 October 2011 I did something I have always wanted to do. I waved to the Queen of England and heard myself yell "God Save the Queen." The Queen visited Brisbane Australia and I was one of about 45,000 people who lined up to see Her Majesty in the stifling summer heat and humidity. God Save the Queen is the National Anthem which was composed in 1745. It was written after the Scottish invaded England. The invasion was a serious threat to the monarchy and that explains the words of the National Anthem that forms a prayer of petition for the safety and wellbeing of the monarch. The Queen arrived at the Brisbane airport, motored into the city then boarded a boat to travel up the Brisbane River to disembark at Southbank in Brisbane. It had taken me 30 minutes to walk there from where I was working in the city. Everyone at work thought I was crazy. They just couldn't understand wanting to pay homage to such a grand lady. Australians aren't very patriotic. Queen Elizabeth turns 91 in 2017 and she has been the Queen over the United Kingdom, Canada, Australia and New Zealand since 1952 and is the longest reigning British monarch. There have been a total of 12 US presidents since she first began her reign. She loves her dogs, especially corgis and also breeds thoroughbred horses. On a personal level there were two times when she personally was threatened. In 1981 she was riding in a special military parade when a man in the crowd pointed a gun at her. He fired, but fortunately, the gun was loaded with blanks. The next close encounter was the following year when an intruder scaled Buckingham Place and confronted Her Majesty in her very own bedroom. The Queen doesn't require a drivers license or license tag or even a passport. And, she celebrates her birthday twice, once on April 21st and the other in June when the weather is better. She carries cash in her purse but only on Sundays when she donates money to her church. Of course I took photos of my encounter with this royal lady that day but they are of her hat. Yes a beautiful green hat. And one fact I haven't mentioned is that she is only 5'4". I tried everything to get closer. I followed a news crew with no luck. Then a lady a couple of rows in front fainted from the heat. Still no luck. So, I have my fond memory of that little green hat and yelling "God Save the Queen."

Moreton Island

Four of the largest sand islands in the world sit off Queensland coast in Australia. The first is Fraser Island, then Stradbroke, Moreton and Bribie islands. The last 3 are within a ferry trip across the bay from Brisbane. Moreton has the highest coastal sand dune in the world at 285 metres above sea level. On a previous trip to the island, I clawed my way to the top of Mt Tempest for one of the most majestic views you could find anywhere in the world. And for the ride down I rode a toboggan which was fantastic fun until you reach the bottom with half the sand dunes in your underwear. Moreton was the center for major coastal defense bases during WWI and II and still has the remains of 2 gun emplacements. During the 50's and early 60's the island operated as a whaling station. Moreton is 95% National Park and has a freshwater lake at the northern end of the island as well as a working sandstone lighthouse on the northern tip of the island built in 1857 by convicts. Interesting thing about Moreton is that it has no kangaroos or koalas but lots of snakes. And wild pigs were introduced as a source of food for anyone shipwrecked there. There are also 15 shipwrecks just along the shoreline which you can dive or snorkel if you brave the current which is quite bad there. The crystal clear waters give way to a beautiful array of tropical fish. The island is surrounded by blue waters and beautiful white sand giving home to over 180 bird species. Cape Moreton has a perfect viewpoint for watching marine life including the humpback whales migration from June to November. In the 1990's the owners of the resort on Moreton fed a dolphin leading to the dolphin accepting a fish by hand. The offspring of that dolphin and their babies now visit Moreton each night to be fed by tourists. The dolphins on Moreton Island that I fed are wild and as such you must sanitize your hands before feeding them and you are not allowed to touch them. Care is taken to assure that they are only fed 10% of their food so they will not lose the natural instinct to hunt on their own. Our trip to Moreton was very extraordinary as we were able to observe a baby calf only a week old. The handlers kept it away from the feeding so as not to endanger him. He was just adorably cute and playful darting all around the area. You walk away in awe of nature and all the beauty that there is to see on Moreton. And although it was pouring rain the entire time we were feeding these wonderful creatures it was one of the most awesome experiences I have ever had.

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Since we had been putting the dogs outside during the day and their food in the pergola we had birds coming in there in the droves. So, I went to put up a shade across one section to keep them out. I was in the garage measuring the length when I saw 2 women and a guy in the street with a long crowbar trying to get one of the manhole covers off. So, I ventured out there to see what was going on. Seems that a dog had chased a baby plover down the drain. Now these are the most pesky birds on earth. They swoop at you continuously. I have stood on our front porch swinging a broom at them. So, the guy was lifting the manhole off to rescue this bird I hate. So, I regretfully said how can I help. The next thing I know he was down one manhole further down the street and I was down the other with my pool net. Now the storm drain isn't the most pleasant thing to be exploring especially for a 60 year old woman who isn't even wearing a bra. I know that last bit was too much information. "I can hear it" the guy kept saying "but it sounds like it is behind me". So up the next manhole he went. I climbed out of the one I was in and ventured to the one he just came out of. My first clue should have been when it was a bit smaller than the other I had just come out of. Oh well, down my fat ass went. The other women stood guard so that someone didn't run over us while we were down there. We kept hearing chirp chirp and momma bird was swooping all around. We then find that the little innocent baby bird, who by now I would like to kill myself, had run up to yet another manhole. So, I proceeded to put one foot on the rung to get out but because the manhole was so small there was no room for me to put the other foot on the rung. Thus a fat, no bra, 60 year old lady is stuck in the manhole. The 2 women are saying "We can lift you out". Right. Thank goodness along comes another guy from the street and the 2 men lifted me out. How embarrassing is that. Thank goodness I was not on the 6:00 news coming out of the drain. The next plot was to pour water in the drain to wash the bird down the drain into the net. I can tell you that I was worried about what else was going to get washed down with it. Oh well, I had decided I wasn't going back down there again. Then up the street to yet another drain the momma bird is going crazy. It was there we finally scouped the bird up in the pool net and back to his lunatic momma. My parting words were "This was definitely not on my bucket list" So I get back home to sleeping beauty who awakes to find me covered in a reddest brown dirt. Now here is the x rated part. "What the #&*@ where you thinking?" "There is god knows what down there" And, finally, "No telling what kind of germs you have on you." So the morale of the story is "Don't ask. Don't tell".

Sorry

Such a simple two syllable word but so complex in it's meaning and use. It can be worth millions or worthless as a counterfeit bill. I am sorry for all I have done but if it is not accepted it is useless, worthless. I am sorry I have hurt you but the hurt is done and sorry doesn't lessen your pain. I am sorry that I was not there for you and you will have lost trust. A trust that may never recover no matter what I say after saying sorry. I am sorry. It does not erase the past. It doesn't erase countless harsh words. I am sorry and the scar of my actions is forever stamped upon my soul. I am sorry for I am tormented night and day, with every breath, for this is my punishment. I am sorry's prisoner never to be unchained. I am sorry. I feel it strongly. It is heartfelt. Honest. Permanent. Will it ever be enough? I can be sorry person. I can wear sorry as though it were a coat hanging off my shoulders. I can live sorry day in and day out. I can choke on the word sorry like it were a bad cough. Sorry. It feels good to say. Like a weight is lifted from my body. Healing. Comforting. The word though needs someone to receive it. Take it to heart. Take it for all that it is worth. All that it cost. Take it from my heart. And accept it as truth. Be willing to move on. To rebuild. Forge a new beginning. The beginning of hope. We know not what the morrow brings. I for one believe my sorry has value, carries weight and in part I hope will give me peace.

Licking a Green Ants Butt

I know you must wonder about the title but I must first take you on a trip. A trip to North Queensland in Australia. We boarded a boat that ferried us down the river to enjoy the sights of birds and yes even crocs. Our first stop was a remote little area that was thankfully shaded by a large tin roof. We made our way thinking we would be served morning tea as it was not quite lunch yet. Our guide took us to a nearby tree on the edge of the rainforest where we noticed ants crawling everywhere on the tree. As a matter of fact, they were green ants or weaver ants as they are sometimes called. The guide encouraged us take a green ant by the head. And as their name says, they do have a green butt. I knew from experience that these little buggers have a heck of a sting so I was a bit reluctant. But being the adventurer I am I carefully picked up the ant waiting for my next instructions. He said “Now lick his butt.” I thought surely this guy doesn’t want me to get bit on my tongue. I bravely took a lick. I was wondrously surprised by the lemon taste. The aboriginals love these ants as they serve a lot of purposes for them. Come to find out these ants weave large nests forming a ball of leaves in trees by interlacing leaves together. The Yangga or green ants are used for medicinal purposes for coughs and colds and by dunking the entire nest in water they make a lemon drink. In fact, ants and insects of all kinds were used for everything from pigment in paintings, sweetener, and food, to anesthetics by the aboriginals. So, when you visit Australia be sure to lick a green ants butt.

Magical Night

It was pitch black outside, just me and the stars. No flashlights, no headlights, no light from your cell phones were allowed. Not seeing well in the dark, I could only imagine and was terrified of just what I might step on. I could hear the guide talking and since I walked slow I was in the back of the pack. And, trying to watch my steps for heaven knows what was slowing me down. And the most amazing sky full of stars. It looked as though hands full of them had been scattered across the night sky. You could see every star so clearly. No clouds to block your view. No city lights to distract from the beauty. The guide lead us to an area roped off where there was a bit of light shining to show you the wonder you were about to behold. The sand on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world began to move, from underneath. Then another roped off area began to move. Out of the night sand popped a head and then legs. Then another and another. I was witnessing the hatching of the endangered baby loggerhead turtles. The loggerhead turtle has been on the threatened species list since 1978 due to pollution, shrimp trawling and development in their nesting areas. Adults grow to nearly 3 foot in length and weigh on average 300 pounds but they can grow up to 1,000 pounds. They lay only 4 eggs in the period of 2-3 years and have a lifespan of about 45-65 years. These beautiful little creatures are drawn to light when they are born. Thus no lights were allowed to distract them from their journey to the ocean. The moonlight bouncing off the ocean is their beacon. Their long journey to the water imprints on them where to return to lay their own eggs when they become an adult. So it is imperative not to interfere with that journey. The reality is though that most become dinner for the predators lurking in the water beyond or on the shore. Although the loggerheads have many nesting sites throughout the world, I was able to witness the Pacific turtles hatch in Northern Australia along the coast near where the Great Barrier Reef begins. Watching them struggle from the sand then make the trek into the ocean will forever be my most magical night ever experienced.

Excerpt from Chapter 1 - Deadly Feud

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” Mark hollered. No answer and he could see the tractor sitting idle in the field. Knowing his grandfather must be nearby, Mark made his way to the old red rusted tractor. The key wasn’t in the ignition. Nothing. Nowhere to be found. Where could he be thought Mark. Darkness was coming fast as the sunset dipped behind the horizon. He continued to call his grandfather. Still nothing. Well, maybe he went back to the stock shed. Mark strode back across the field towards the stock shed where the feed supplies and tack was kept. Surely, he couldn’t be far away, after all its getting dark. He reached the stock shed. Barely able to see, he ducked through the doorway. The crunch under foot to the stock shed meant the pecan trees were dropping pecans. Something else to add to his list to do. He couldn’t be bothered trying to avoid them, he couldn’t see a thing. The next step proved to be the one that would change his life forever. He tripped and nearly went flying through the back of the shed. He had tripped over something, not sure just what. He grabbed the flash light his grandad kept on the ledge just inside the doorway. As soon as the light came on, his eyes froze on the lifeless body that lie in front of him, his grandfather. He felt as though his breath had been instantly sucked from his chest. He couldn’t really fathom what had happened. Maybe a heart attack, a stroke, some kind of accident. He knelt down to check for a pulse. He was gone. He felt sick and wanted to throw up. The sound that came from his throat wasn’t even a cry, it was much deeper than that. Someone he loved more than life was dead in front of him, his eyes wide open. He was dazed, not sure what to do next. Finally, after what seemed forever, he dialed 911 from his cell phone.

Prologue The killer watched and listened everything transpire from the shadows of the backyard of the Hansen farm. He had snuck in the house earlier when Ms. Hansen had gone to town. He couldn’t find where Old man Hansen had hidden his Will or the bank account number he so desperately wanted. Mostly he needed to find those letters. Letters from the old country, their beloved Germany where the Hansen’s’ were born. Where the killer had lived in a neighboring town. Where he had first killed. Hansen never saw him coming. He was busy grabbing a rope off the hook on the wall and never knew he was hiding in the corner. The light had faded. Darkness would not too far away. He was reaching for the rope when the killer struck. That was easy. The killer’s heart was pumping and he actually became a bit light headed from the rush killing had given him. He had forgotten how that felt. He had finally started his plan in motion after all these years. The plan had to move forward quickly if he was to realize his fortune. He will have to be cautious of their grandson Mark though. Being the only grandson of the Hansen’s, he would stand to inherit quite a bit. He must find those damn letters. Hansen would not have destroyed them, after all, they were the only thing standing between the killer’s downfall and the money that he believes he is entitled to. His thoughts were interrupted by voices. He had to laugh under his breath listening to their conversation inside the house. “Grandma. You in there?” In an apologetic tone, Mark hollered from the front verandah. “I’m here. Sorry I’m late.” He could make out the grandmother making her way to the door dressed in her cotton dress. He had never seen her in anything but print cotton dresses with pockets. “Well, Hi there. Thought you changed your mind.” He heard her respond. “I’m in the middle of dinner. Guess you must have smelled it and come a running.” He heard Mark ask his grandmother where he grandfather was. She replied “In the pasture. He is trying to get the last of the field tilled before dark. Could you go see what’s keeping him? He works till dark and by the time he comes in for dinner its stone cold.” She added with frustration. He must hurry, the killer thought. Mark will go out the back door and be in the chickenyard before he can get out through the neighbor’s field and out of sight. He rushed through the back field and into the neighbors’ property. He had left his motorcycle in the far end of their property. It will be dark before he gets back to it and driving without lights will pose a challenge. He would come back for the papers. Maybe while they were at the funeral, before they start digging through everything themselves.