I Know What Tippi Hedren Felt Like . . .

It was Alfred Hitchcock who asked the cinematic question, "What if nature ever decided to get back at us?"  As a child, Hitchcock's movie "The Birds" scared the living lining out of me.  Today I got to experience the movie for real!

This afternoon's venue (Wednesday, June 5th, 2013) included both saints and seabirds, the actual theme of the retreat in which I am participating.  We left the island at low tide via motor caravan with rides provided by those who actually drove to the retreat from somewhere in England.  I am the only participant from outside of England and one of two who did not drive a car.

Frankly, I am quite okay with the whole idea of not driving.  The roads are REALLY narrow, everyone drives on the wrong side of the road, almost all of the cars are manual transmission, and the shifting is done with the left hand.  Obviously not a good combination for an American attempting his first driving experience in the United Kingdom.  When it came time to leave, I attempted to enter the car through the driver's door because it is where the passenger door is located on American cars.  Fortunately, the impolite snickering has subsided!

We drove to the small, seaside town of Seahouses where we were to meet the charter boat that would take us the Farne Islands.  The day was cool, overcast, slightly foggy, and with a mild misty drizzle coming down.  Typical English weather, according to my companions, and unlike the beautiful day we enjoyed yesterday.

Tickets in hand, we boarded a medium-sized, double-hulled boat and proceeded over slightly choppy water for twenty minutes until we reached the first island, composed entirely of rock.  The island was low in the water and covered with nesting birds.  Here we saw gorgeous dark emerald green bird with a small cockade on its head.  This is called the Shag.  There were also Fulmars, Gannets, Sandwich Terns, Cormorants, Razorbills, Guillimots, and Eider Ducks.

I think the British have converted me to birdwatching.  Fascinating!

The next island, also rock, consisted of sheer cliffs and standing rocks rising some sixty to seventy feet into the air.  The ledges and tops of rocks were covered with nesting birds and, well...let's just say that from a distance it looks as though the dark rocks are covered with snow.  Let's also say that close up, you get the bracing aroma of salt air and . . . well, let's just say that if there were any soil on those rocks, it would be very fertile!

Several of the larger islands have lighthouses on them.  The lighthouses have been converted to solar power and operate automatically.  On several of the islands, the lighthouses are occupied by young conservationists who are working constantly to tag the birds and track their migratory habits.

Our last stop in the Farne Islands was on Inner Farne, the biggest of the islands.  We had the opportunity to get off the boat and walk the island for an hour.  That may have been a mistake.

We were told to bring waterproof jackets and possibly an umbrella.  I now understand that this was not for the rain we might get.  Inner Farne is a major nesting site for the Arctic Tern, nature's greatest long-distance traveler.  The Arctic Tern migrates from the Antarctic to the Arctic to nest.  They are also beautiful and have a terrible disposition.  

They are very territorial and VERY protective of their nests, which they build right along the pathways people walk.  They are an "in your face" kind of bird, rising to screech and squawk at anyone near the nest. Naturally, they attack the tallest thing they can find (thus the umbrella).  When the American, who did not know to bring an umbrella, discovered that he was bigger than almost all the other people visiting the island today, he gained a new distinction . . .TARGET AND VICTIM.

Those little buggers swoop down and actually peck you on the head, all the while screeching like banshees!  To make matters worse, there was good reason for the waterproof poncho (which I brought . . .and wore!).  The Arctic Tern, finding that screeching and pecking have little affect on tall Americans, resort to their most clever and insidious ploy.

They seek to make an example out of you.  Apparently, I am an exemplary example!  I 

was partially covered in bird effluvia before the end of the trip.

The other highlight of the trip was seeing the huge colonies of Puffins nesting on Inner Farne and neighbouring islands where soil may be found.  Puffins breed in the water, but lay their eggs in burrows (like rabbit warrens) in the ground.  In fact, our guide siad that when the Puffins come back to lay their eggs, they will eject any rabbits they find that have taken over their burrows.  The puffins are fun to look at, sort of like a small penguin with a huge orange beak that cannot fly very well and walks like Groucho Marx.  The locals call them Tammienorries, Sea Parrots, Clowns of the Sea, and Red Jimmies..

Safely back on land, we debarked for St. Aidan's Church.  This was the site where Aidan built his first church in the historic royal capital city of Northumbria, now site of Bamburgh Castle and the town of Bamburgh.  

The original church was built of wood with a thatch roof around 650 AD.  It burned to the ground.  However, according to legend, the beam against which Aidan was leaning when he died was not consumed in the fire. . . nor in a fire that destroyed the replacement church (also of wood).  The forked beam is now in the ceiling of the church, directly above the baptismal font at the back of the church.  

Tonight after dinner, we debriefed about our day.  Although everyone was tired, each person was able to articulate a way in which God spoke to them during our time away from Lindisfarne.  My attention was drawn to the Bamburgh Castle, which is a huge edifice that must have taken several hundred years to build.  

Northumbria borders Scotland.  As most people know, England and Scotland have not always had good relations with one another.  Wars and fierce battles took place along the border that lies just north of where I am now.  The Vikings also regularly raided these areas, causing the monks of Lindisfarne Abbey to abandon the island around the eight century.  In fact, I am currently closer to Norway than I am to London as I write today's blog entry!

The local castle was a means of defense, a place of protection, not only for the king and the king's servants, but also for the villagers of the agricultural lands and farms all about the castle.  When a raiding party invaded, everyone that could make it entered the castle where they could be safe and secure until danger passed.

I never really thought about it until today because I just assumed that I understood the verse.  Seeing Bamburgh Castle brought the concept home to me very powerfully.  Psalm 18: 2 reads, "The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my savior; my God is my rock in whom I find protection.  He is my shield, the power that saves me, and my place of refuge."

I will never read or hear that verse again without the image of Bamburgh Castle in my mind.