davesdistrictblog

newborn seals at donna nook: bonding and exclusion

2009-11-08T17:37:00.004Z

The first three photographs show a newborn grey seal pup and its mother on the foreshore at Donna Nook on the Lincolnshire coast. Both show the evidence of its recent birth. At the time I took these shots the pup was still unable to move by itself. Not long afterwards it proved that it was able to cry out, and then it took its first shuffling movement towards its mother. What you see here represents some of the bonding behaviour that they shared.

Although the majority of the seals were about 20 – 50 metres away from the fenced off viewing path along the edge of the dunes, and most of the photographs you see here had to be taken with a telephoto zoom set at maximum magnification (the equivalent of 450mm on my camera), Sue and I we were close enough to the action to be really moved by what we saw. Watching the behaviour of cows and pups in the first hours of their life together on the beach was an unforgettable experience. Up to yesterday morning about one hundred pups had been born, with many more births expected if this season resembles last year.

Further along the shore this female displayed obvious maternal instincts with her pup, including nuzzling and stroking it repeatedly with her fore flipper - just beautiful to watch.

Up on the dunes a cow suckled her new offspring.

Nearby a mother rested beside her slightly older pup, before moving swiftly away and leaving it all by itself, behaviour in complete contrast to that on the beach with the newborns. As this mother moved away she encountered another cow and they had a fierce territorial dispute, accompanied by bellowing, gaping and baring of teeth. Clearly her own pup could not find her and eventually it moved back towards the beach, but not before it had been grabbed, shaken and chased away by the same cow, which had a pup of its own. As this drama was unfolding we saw that the mother was sleeping nearby at the edge of the dune. Sometime after her pup had disappeared from view she woke up, realised that it was not close by, and began calling to it.

With so many seals densely packed together the process of bonding between cows and pups was accompanied by frequent displays of exclusion and territoriality. Mothers would chase away intruding bulls, cows and pups as they sought to protect their own offspring.

This type of parental behaviour is clearly a deep-rooted trait throughout the animal kingdom. As a parent I recognise the shape of such evolutionary programming within myself: the instinct to protect and look after the welfare of my own family is a given of my genetic makeup as a human. The seals at Donna Nook show us something which is integral to mammalian behaviour. The exclusive power of familial bonding finds its counterpart in group behaviour too. Wildlife documentaries abound with examples of outsiders being given short shrift by group or pack insiders.

You could be forgiven for thinking that humanity is enslaved by this primal genetic inheritance. As we recall the appalling cost and utter tragedy of conflict and war we could be forgiven for thinking too that such behaviour reflects the primitive side of our nature as a species. Disputes over territory and resources such as food, fuel and raw materials litter human history. Our capacity for violence and destruction is unparalleled. Yet at Donna Nook the seals were not resorting to lethal violence. They protected their space and their own from intrusion, and did this with displays of aggression, blocking moves and with physical force; but the levels of violence were low and injuries few and not life-threatening. This no doubt reflects the nature of this breeding population as an in-group.

But unlike the seals, we do have the conscious ability to choose to cherish all humans as being our in-group, if we so wish. What if we looked beyond the exclusivities of ethnicity to our common humanity instead and chose to disregard our genetic and cultural programming? What if we were minded to look upon children on the other side of the world with the same care and compassion as we look upon our own? What would that do to our politics? Would we be less safe for doing so? Would we be less well off? The newborn seals really challenged my own thinking. In a shrinking, overcrowded world, we have to find a better way of handling our disputes and of learning to live together peacefully, not least for the sake of newborns everywhere. Look into the eyes of this baby seal and tell me that this isn’t so.

Sculpting our gender awareness

2009-11-06T17:02:00.001Z

Michael Ayrton’s uncompromising work ‘The Arkville Minotaur’ and Sophie Ryder’s fabulous wire sculpture ‘Lady Hare – Sitting’ were for me two of the real highlights of our visit to the Yorkshire Sculpture Park. I say this because both pieces challenged me to consider gender awareness and identity as presenting issues in the life of the church and society.

The Minotaur is rendered with all the power and menace of the original half-man, half-bull hybrid depicted in the Greek myth, where its life is spent confined in the depths of a subterranean labyrinth. The sculptor presents us with no place to hide as we are confronted with raw animal power and sexuality, and all the frustrated anger of being trapped and held captive. The guide suggests that Michael Ayrton identified with the trials of the Minotaur, and portrayed him with a degree of sympathy. Rather than slaying the beast as did Theseus with his sword, perhaps the sculptor is inviting us to try to understand the creature, and in so doing explore the disquieting and darker depths of the male psyche. The sculpture certainly opens up the questions for us and provides a means of engaging with the difficult and vexed subject of male identity. This is especially true when one looks at the photo of the Minotaur alongside that of Lady Hare, Sophie Ryder’s exploration of female identity, sexuality and spirituality. The interaction between the two is disturbing and thought-provoking, not least as it calls to mind centuries of male violence and oppression against women.

Lady Hare is equally as striking as the Arkville Minotaur. Unlike the Minotaur, it seems to convey power without aggression and sexuality without force. In particular, the ‘split down the middle’ portrayal of the female psyche begs so many questions, not least does this represent something imposed or freely chosen? What is its significance? I found the work to be evocative, compelling and somehow deeply ‘authentic’. In its own way it challenged me just as much as did the Minotaur. The woman in the photograph stood quietly contemplating the work for several minutes, and left me wondering what, if any, identification and affirmation had been engendered by her encounter with this sculpture. I also wondered whether it was by accident or design that Lady Hare is surrounded by a fence.

So I offer these two images as starting points for discussion and reflection.

a snapshot of postmodern spirituality

2009-11-06T12:54:00.001Z

At the time of seeing this shot I remember thinking that the airy, light and modern interior of Longside Gallery at the Yorkshire Sculpture Park looked like a good space in which to do ‘church’. This part of the building enables visitors to sit and reflect upon what they have experienced, read guides and brochures about current exhibitions, or simply to look out at the landscape framed by the picture window. The wall of glass adjacent to the bounding partition provides ample ambient light.

Thinking this through further and reflecting upon what you see here, it dawned on me that this looked for all the world like a godly activity, so I quickly reached for my camera to record the moment. There was something about the setting of this still spaciousness, with the chairs arranged to encourage encounter and the landscape framed to invite response, that felt ever so familiar. I would go further and say ever so sacred. This awareness, caught in a moment of time, spoke to me of the hospitality of God’s presence: welcoming, calm, still, spacious, enlightening and safely bounding, yet drawing our attention beyond ourselves.

So I offer you a snapshot of postmodern spirituality. Perhaps it can be an icon of encouragement and challenge to today’s church.