Northern Mockingbird

The Northern Mockingbird is very common in Kentucky, and the mockingbird has come to symbolize everything from human innocence in Harper Lee's novel To Kill A Mockingbird to a bribe to get a crying baby to quiet down in the lullaby Hush Little Baby. Northern Mockingbirds have been recorded to have had hundreds of various songs covering anything from other birds, insects, even car alarms. Despite Harper Lee's portrayal of mockingbirds as symbolizing innocence, mockingbirds are fiercely territorial, attacking most anything including humans to maintain dominion in the region around their nests. As much as I enjoy listening to mockingbirds, I tend to see them to symbolize a loss of identity. Mockingbirds have many calls, and parrot the songs and noises in their environment accurately enough that other bird species believe the song is of another of its kind. Yet, the identity of a mockingbird apart from its mocking is lost. The mockingbird sings the songs of others, yet has no song of its own.

Parasitoid Wasp

While watering my tomato plants which grow in an old whiskey barrel on my back deck, I saw a caterpillar with white spikes dangling from one of the tomato plants. The white spikes indicate a parasitic invasion from parasitoid wasps. Wasps come to a caterpillar and inject its eggs into the body. The eggs hatch into larvae, which feed on the caterpillar while avoiding the vital organs to keep the caterpillar alive until the larvae have matured.
The parasitoid wasps are attracted to the caterpillar by an odor given from the tomato plant, which the plant emits out of a defense mechanism. The wasp larvae control the caterpillar, giving it the term "zombie caterpillar." The wasp larvae will cocoon and develop into adult wasps, and the final feed on the caterpillar ends its life. God's living nature is not always comfortable and aesthetically pleasing; yet, such an event which largely goes unnoticed by human eyes does have its purpose.

Orville Schoolhouse

 

Plant life has taken over the schoolhouse

 Near my home in Orville, KY, stands (somewhat) this abandoned, one-room schoolhouse. The schoolhouse has long since been vacated, and the exposure to the elements has proven to be too much for this old structure to handle. Many of the older population in the area remember attending school here, and especially Ms. Lila (Delilah Douthitt). Ms. Lila is reported to be the youngest teacher ever in the public school system in the commonwealth of Kentucky at the age of 17 years. She is now 85, and a wonderful woman to have a conversation with.

The schoolhouse now rests as the plant life slowly reclaims the structure. In this small field, a nearby cattle farmer stores hay rolls around the schoolhouse. In order to get to the interior of the schoolhouse, I had to climb and walk over the hay rolls, then climb down into the front entrance.

Before the county school system centralized the education countywide, the one-room schoolhouse was the most effective and efficient way of educating the children in the area. Nowadays each household owns at least one automobile, and bus fleets have become an expectation for school districts across the nation. However, not long ago, children walked to the nearest one-room schoolhouse to learn the three R's. 

This structure now suffers from decades of neglect. The wood is rotten, including the hardwood floors. The support beams have given way, and it is simply a matter of time before the entire structure collapses.

The roof is only partially collapses in the main room of the schoolhouse. This once "one-room" schoolhouse looks to have had walls placed in after original construction to have a small entrance room followed by a large front room and a small room in the rear of the building. Broken glass, splintered wood, and parts to the roof line the rotting hardwood floors. It is unclear what this small room was used for.

The rear door has an appearance to experience, which I think is best conveyed in black and white. It tells a story of what went on in this building, the people that learned to read here, the passed era which seems to have been forgotten in my generation. A time when communities were closer, work was harder, and families honored God's divine providence. This door opens to the rear of the structure.

In the rear of the building, I see clearly how far the structure is leaning and near total collapse. Trees that have grown larger since the schoolhouse's abandonment act as support beams for the walls, temporarily delaying the inevitable. Although the distortion from the ultra-wide angle lens adds a bit of extreme appearance of leaning, I assure you that this building is about to be captured by God's living nature.

The photo on the right is of the interior door just passed the small foyer on the front of the structure. You cannot walk through this door any longer. The roof has crashed through the glass of the door, and the collapse of the eastern wall has dragged the door back toward the rear.

The photo to the left is of the large, front room where school was likely held. This is the largest room in the structure by far, and even had a brick chimney, which if you look on the far wall in the center of the photo you may see the remnant of that chimney. The brick has since collapsed and has fallen through the rotten hardwood floors. On the right of the photograph, you can see an electric plug. There is evidence of electric light on the collapsed ceiling as well.

Vines and trees claim the exterior, southern wall. Some glass remains on this window. This wall has a deceiving appearance, but the rear and front of this wall is supported by trees. Without the trees, this wall would collapse.

The debris and soil build-up on some areas of the floor tells a story of a losing battle from a fierce war between human structure and nature. Buildings constructed by human hands has a beginning, and without constant maintenance, has an end. What is maintenance but the battle raging on? What is neglect but God's living nature winning the battle? People and the work of their hands come and go, but God is eternal.

Killdeer

Perhaps you have seen them, but more likely you have heard their call. The Killdeer is a type of plover with a loud and continuous caw that sounds like a high pitched "Kill-DEE" (hence, where this bird gets its name). You may find this bird walking around cattle farms or large parking lots with grassy islands in which to lay their eggs. They are quite abundant in Kentucky.
This Killdeer to the left is a mother protecting her eggs (bottom right of the photograph) which she laid in a grassy island in the rear parking lot of Oxmoor Mall in Louisville, KY. She spreads out and chirps loudly to warn me that I am getting too close. Afterwards, she limped and fluttered her wings as if one was broken, quickly moving away from her nest. This was an act called the "broken wing act," a distraction display for birds protecting their young.
I heard quite a few Killdeer in cattle fields that surround my house this past spring. They fly erratically constantly chirping as if in distress. An interesting behavior to note is their fast paced walk through fields. They walk quickly, occasionally  stopping and looking back. God created this bird with long legs, much like any shore bird. Their quickness through fields makes bugs jump, then with good vision are able to spot bugs when they stop and look back. The Killdeer is a good bug hunter, and a rare type of shore bird that reaches the interior of the U.S.

Following the Current

 

The day after a steady rain, I decided to get away and take a walk. I follow the stream that meanders through the hills and dense woods behind where I live. The water seems so fresh, so alive. Like a water color painter's touch, God lightly smudges the stream to carve out valleys through the Bluegrass.

Opening up the lens, I gave a five second exposure to God's creation. This is but a snapshot, not even a speck of the vast creation from God's hands. Yet here in the quiet woods, I marvel at His work. His providence is found in steady streams where life draws from His spring. His power is displayed in such a small stream, carrying large rock and flood waters taking down large trees. His restraint is revealed by the waters to only go so far and return to the stream.

I happened upon this stone wall near the creek. The wall looks old, and God's living nature is slowly reclaiming it. The wall stands quite the distance from any roadway and seems to have been raised in a hurry. This was likely an early settler's way of placing  up boundaries of his property. The moss and plant life is recapturing what was placed up by a man who has since passed. Who is man that God is mindful of him? We come and go, and You remain forever. You have given us dominion over your creation, setting us above your living nature (Psalm 8). Yet, what we build and stack is easily erased by Your mighty hand, Your gentle touch. How majestic is Your Name in all the earth!
We stack God's rocks into walls to mark out what is ours. I cannot help but find these efforts as futility, a chasing after the wind. Our work does not survive time; our lives find an end. The great work of God is eternal. How merciful is our God to permit to us participation in His great kingdom work.

By the stream, I came across a broad-winged damselfly. A most magnificent blue shimmers in the sunshine peering through the canopy of the deep Kentucky woods. God's mighty handiwork declared in such a diminutive piece. Even the smallest detail is not neglected by God's fingers. What could such a tiny creature do but glorify his majestic Creator?

 On Steven's Branch Road, the road home, I observed the setting sun peeking rays through the dense woods that line this secluded gravel road. One small dandelion rises from the grassy median of the gravel road. The luster from the sun shows the details of the seedlings from this once yellow flower. This flowering weed is not trampled on, and does not seem so cold and lonely with the brilliance of the sunshine. Not lonely, just secluded.

A farm gate sits quietly beside the roadway.  On the other side of this gate is the spring the locals used for water as recently as 1994, when water pipelines were finally completed. People would bring buckets or pumps in the back of trucks to this spring and draw water for cooking, drinking, water gardens, and for livestock. Now this rusty gate has a chain and padlock, slowly forgetting our past as we have grown accustomed to modern luxury.

At the corner of Steven's Branch and Gest Roads is this stop sign. It seems to be the custom to shoot at road signs. This stop sign is riddled with holes from what appears to be a shotgun. The setting sun shines through the holes for a nice photograph.

God provides a lovely sunset to end my walk in the woods following the current of a nearby stream. God is good to me, to us. God's majesty in nature is not simply in its function, but in its beauty. I am thankful to God for both. His Name is majestic, and His living nature is beautiful. How much more beautiful is the Word through whom all things were created? All of nature sings a beautiful song to the glory of the majestic Name of our Creator.