What I Saw

I’ve done it again (my badgering at its best).  This time I convinced hubby to build a kestrel nest box. (Remember when I begged him to install hummingbird nests and the hummingbird cam? That was after the first time he built platforms for our nesting roadrunners – all at my insistent whining urging).

Meet Kessie the kestrel, our frequent visitor the past month. This is the first time we’ve ever seen kestrels on our property, so of course I was excited. They’re part of the falcon family. Click to enlarge.

Hubby scrounged for leftover building materials to construct the nest: unused wooden countertop remnants, plywood, house supplies.

All the pieces to the puzzle, waiting for assembly. Note the grooves in the piece to the far right. These are actually “steps” so Kessie can exit the hole with ease. Click to enlarge.

Here’s the constructed box, 25” tall and 10” wide, leaning against Betty’s tire. Click to enlarge.

Everyone’s house deserves a good coat of paint, right? Click to enlarge.

And we all need good bedding – especially for swaddling the little ones. Sawdust is apparently the preferred nesting material. Click to enlarge.

According to The Arizona Game and Fish Heritage Fund, the nest box should be up by March to attract nesting kestrels. Nice to be ahead of the game for once.

Ready for new tenants! Here it is, about 12 feet in the air next to a saguaro, overlooking weedy desert plains – good hunting ground for kestrels (they like to eat insects and rodents). Click to enlarge.

If I were a kestrel, I think I’d fancy this mountain view. Click to enlarge.

The thing we’re learning about birds: if you wish to attract them, you must build the best possible nest, suited to each specific bird. You must have things just right so the bird can step in and out, enter and exit, hunt and protect its young.

For Writers/Readers: Building bird boxes … building fictional worlds … They’re not so different, are they?

Writers: Similar to a bird-box builder, we secure the right materials – voice, engaging characters, setting, unique plot, lively dialogue, conflict – building the best possible novel to attract agents, publishers and – most importantly, readers. I’ve been talking a lot with friends lately about ‘what’ seems to be attracting the attention of publishers these days. What do you think? Shorter books? Longer books? Certain genres? Particular themes? Specific writing styles?

Readers: What kinds of books are you attracted to? What makes you swoop in and investigate a book? Do you think a country’s “mood” dictates the type of fiction people wish to read – i.e. lighter fiction during hard times, darker fiction during up times? Does it matter? What books make you feel at home in your nesting box?

So, now that the careful construction is complete, we wait (again – not unlike writers on submission or those seeking agents, or those waiting for reader feedback). With any luck, we’ll have a pair of kestrels in the spring (be sure to check back!). Note the black dots on the back of the kestrel’s head. To other predatory birds, the obsidian markings look like open eyes and detract from assaults. Click to enlarge.

I hesitated to write this post because it’s such a departure from most of my stories with their ties to the natural world.

But then I thought: maybe it’s not so different after all, because the story I’m about to tell really does relate to the natural evolution of the writer’s world.

But first, the spark for this post:

The addition of new shelving units and the cleaning of existing storage space in our house took me on a trip down memory lane – or, more accurately, through a crapload of boxes. Click to enlarge.

As you can imagine, I unearthed some interesting things.

What a hoot. I remember nagging my older sister to write newspapers with me when we were younger. My mom, miraculously, saved this edition – dated May 28, 1984. Please don’t read it. The grammatical and spelling errors make me break out in a cold sweat. I would have been 12 and my sister 14. Monkey Man, a god-awful story about a man, part-monkey, (such an original title!), was written when I was 10 or 11. Love my artwork, eh?

And then there was this enchanting story about Lendle Lubunzie, a Luvatarian (“… As you are called Earthling,” he says to the main character, Tulip Jones, “I am a Luvatarian.”) Did I forget to mention that he’s from the world of Loveopia? Yeah, obviously I was into alliteration. This gem was written for a contest when I was in eighth grade. As this was the only entry, it won. (And, of course, Lendle loved orange Reese’s Pieces).

You’ll see the name Shannon Blair at the right corner (mine was on the opposite side). Yes, I coerced my friend into co-writing this story one weekend. I’m seeing a theme, here. “Write with me, write with me. Pleeaaase. Someone write with me.” Coercion, anyone? Click to enlarge if you must.

Again, more lovely artwork. Click to enlarge.

And then I came across the Holy Grail of finds. Letters – yes, plural – from Beverly Cleary. Sent to me thirty years ago (What the??? And thank you, Mom, for saving them!) I remember carting those letters around like they were gold. Star struck can’t even begin to describe the way I felt. I’m sure if you look, you’ll see some of my fingerprints deposited on the paper from over-handling.

That THE Beverly Clearly would take time to write me two notes left a lasting impression. Click to enlarge.

I think something happened at that point – something my young mind wasn’t able to process. Sure, I was aware that Beverly Clearly and Judy Blume (and other authors) sparked my love of reading, my appreciation of words and story. But I think the personal correspondence from a “famous author” was a catalyst of sorts, an inconspicuous seed settling deep inside, waiting patiently to sprout.

But for years the seed lay dormant, unable to germinate as teachers encouraged me to become an educator. “You’re good at English. Become an English teacher.” I’m struck, today, at the fact that no one ever encouraged me to aspire to become an author, a writer.

Even I didn’t consider it. It was something other people did. Like Beverly Cleary. Not me. The first time I ever thought, “Hey – maybe I could try,” was a full year after I graduated from college – with my English and comprehensive communications teaching certification in hand, 7-12.

In a bookstore with my friend, Elana, I came across a book, So You Want to Write a Novel? A response reverberated inside of me, catching me a bit off guard. Yes! The answer was yes. All these years later. And just like that, the seed planted by Beverly Cleary began to take root.

For Writers: I realize that ‘what I wanted to be’ had been in front of me all along. The proof was before my eyes (seen above in my silly stories, and also in my career choice to write – not teach – for newspapers and magazines, and work in the communications field).

Yet the encouragement to pursue the fiction dream was never presented as an option. Only in 2010 did I begin to seriously dig back in to the fertile writing soil that has begged for cultivation all these years. This time, I believe it is an option. And dang it, I will tend to it, pursue it, nurture it.

When did you set down your writing roots? Did something or someone inspire you? Do you have any childhood proof?