Thursday, October 11, 2012

Fripp Island

Day #11 of 31 Days of Storytelling

With all this scary tree stump talk, it made me think of an incident we had on vacation this summer.

We go to Fripp Island, South Carolina.

Not every year, but most.

We've celebrated more of my daughter Ellie's birthdays there than at home.

It is just a special, laid back, I can relax there like NO WHERE ELSE kinda place.

We love it for so many reasons.

There's this.

And this. Isn't Spanish moss the most amazing mood setter?
I can't be in a hurry if there is Spanish moss around.

Deer are everywhere. Small deer. They say not to feed them.
But we do.

Alligators are everywhere too. They say not to feed them.
And we don't.
Monte tries to see how close he can get to one
each year. He and my dad have gotten REALLY close to
one golfing. But that's a whole other story…


I LOVE this picture.

Our favorite place to buy seafood. It was where the
shrimp boat scenes in Forrest Gump were filmed.

YUM!

We drive around the island in a golf cart.


We decided one evening while we were at Fripp to go find this area of trees where the egrets all hang out together.

We remembered seeing it a few years before and wondered if they still went to the spot.

They did!



This picture doesn't begin to capture the STORY of being there.

It was the edge of a golf course.

And there were SO MANY egrets.

It was completely silent except for their hooting type whistles to each other.

We found out later it is called "tooting".

(tee-hee)

Which explains the restaurant in Beaufort called the "Tooting Egret".

Dusk was coming on and we were the ONLY people there.

Watching

and listening

and looking at each other

and trying to take it all in 

because WE KNEW

how God-awesome special 

this moment was.

Like when Monte got up early to see the sunrise and while riding his bike to the ocean saw a momma deer nudge her baby deer right in the bottom to get out of the middle of the road so Monte could ride by.

SPECIAL!



The girls wanted to get closer and closer but I didn't want them to spoil this amazing view. 

So afraid that one loud noise 

would cause the egrets all to take flight 

and leave this place 

and us 

and our special moment.

So I made them tiptoe.

And be absolutely quiet.

Our girls trying to tip-toe.

Silently watching.

In the midst of our happy nature show, Monte asked us (quietly) if we felt like we were being watched.

Ok.

When someone asks you that, 

it is because they already KNOW that you indeed 

are being watched.

I looked around for some golfers or the greens maintenance crew.

Afraid we were in trouble.

(Remember? I am a rule follower, except for the feeding of the deer.)

Monte pointed 

straight 

up.

Vultures!!

Vultures in a dead tree!!


We didn't even realize we were standing underneath a dead tree. We were so focused on looking out at the egrets that we didn't look UP.

And there were VULTURES!

Watching us!!
With meanish, hungry eyes.

We screamed, of course. 

And ran back to the golf cart. 

Then back to the tree to look closer and take pictures. 

Then screamed again. 

And ran back to the golf cart and drove home.

(Poor Monte with all us girls.)

It was all so Snow White and the Seven Dwarves when the mean witch fell off the mountain and the vultures started circling in the air above her with their meanish hungry eyes. 

Am I right? 

And you KNEW they were going to eat her.

I think this is what our stump tree looks like in our front yard:



The Fripp Island vulture tree.


You know, I didn't even notice if the egrets all flew away when we screamed.








3 comments:

  1. Sumita10:19 AM

    I am loving your 31 days of story telling!
    Gives me something to look forward to reading each day -- am never disappointed:) Thanks!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Aww…thanks! I am really digging doing it.
    (probably not the most eloquent way of saying that)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Carisa1:33 PM

    I think the trees are definitely related at this point. I think there will be a vulture there any second. Can you dig it? lol

    ReplyDelete