This is a story about the best and the worst of Mother Nature. It’s also a story about fear, worry, hope and gratefulness. It all began with a tropical storm which formed in the Central Caribbean.My husband is vigilant with watching the tropical depressions during hurricane season. We live on an island in Southwest Florida and have experienced several storms and prepare early when it’s expected our way. This storm was expected to go north of our area, but we prepared for tropical winds at the very least. But as we watched the storm, it kept moving and inching our way. We prepared more by getting the shutters up, bringing in yard items that could blow around and plan for power outages. As the storm continued to approach, the center line inched towards our area. 

Meteorologists had conflicting information. Their initial weather forecasting model was predicting landfall in the Tampa Bay region, but the Europe model was showing an impact zone for the Fort Myers area. Although the American model continued to point to the north, the National Hurricane Center eventually shifted the cone south by over 100 miles within the 30 hours before landfall.

At this point, emotions come into play. Do we consider evacuating? We have a safe room in our house and, if all possible, prefer to stay to protect the home after a storm. Evacuation is always questionable. Where to go, what to take, waiting too long, getting stuck on the road during the storm, and not being able to return. Also, gas, bottled water and other items quickly are in short supply. Not an excuse, just a fact that evacuation is not always a simple decision. We evacuated during another storm that was headed right for our island a few years ago. My brother lives inland and north, so we stayed with him. As it turned out, we didn’t need to leave at that time.

We continued to watch the storm, track its direction, and become more concerned with each report. We gathered supplies together for an emergency and stocked the safe room with everything we would need for us, our dog and bird. The next morning, the storm was approaching the Florida coast, heading right for us. Hurricane Ian was now heading our way, and we had just this morning to finish preparing. At this moment, you move into automatic survival mode. Listing items you want to make sure you have available. Trying to protect the things that are valuable to you and preparing for the aftermath. Filling every container you can, including the bathtubs, with water, getting the generator out where it’s accessible, double checking everything is secure and put away. 

Then you wait. We are fortunate enough to have a weather radio that also picks up local stations. The winds picked up speed, and we knew it was getting closer. We moved into our safe room where we spent the next 12 hours. This room, with no windows, is pretty small, but we installed a small blow-up mattress. We had food, water, our radio, everything for the pets, flashlights, plus extra clothes, and documents we may need. 

This is when emotions and nerves surface. Ian was big and our island was right in the eye’s direction. Listening to the radio reports as they talked about the damage, wind speeds and water surge as it headed toward our island made it hard to breathe. Our home is on the highest ground around the island, and the house is built several feet above, but as they talked about the amount of surge, your mind worries. As the winds were picking up, we could hear the garage doors banging. Our safe room is located in the back of the garage and so we could take a peek and see the braces holding the doors were being stressed. The doors were banging so hard and moving in and out enough you could see light from outside as it shook. The noise of the howling wind is so loud and with the banging of debris hitting the house and roof, it becomes frightening. You wonder if the roof will hold, or if a tree will fall on the house, as well as other scenarios that may cause damage and danger. 

The waiting appears to not end. Gratefully, our dog, who panics in storms, remained calm and slept most of the time. Our bird remained quiet throughout the storm. My husband left the safe room twice during the storm and that is when my panic would rise. How would I know if something happened to him? Of course, he was fine, but the level of stress continued to increase. 

The eye was approaching our area. We knew this would give us an opportunity to check on the house and if we needed to re-secure any items. It also gave our dog, as well as us, a chance to take a bathroom break. The wind was still blowing, but the gust was less. We had heard a loud banging sound for some time and feared it was part of the roof. It turned out to be one shutter in the front corner of the house. We went out to fix it so it wouldn’t blow off. It was surreal being out in the storm even though it was the eye. Debris was still blowing around. There was a slight rain, and I kept thinking I hope we don’t get hit by something. While working on the shutter, we both noticed a single Ibis hanging on to a low branch in the oak tree. I will never forget how this bird looked. It was hanging onto the branch as it was being blown around. Our eyes met and I believe the Ibis and I both could see the fear within each other. I so wanted to help this poor bird but knew there was no way it would allow us to rescue it. As odd as it may sound, we returned to the safe room and my only thought was the movie Titanic. Specifically, the scene when Jack and Rose were on the back of the boat over the rail as the ship was getting ready for the final plunge. Rose looked over at another passenger. They had no words, just that look of fear. Hurricane Ian will always bring the memory of this Ibis and the look of fear I saw as it swayed in the wind.

The second half of the storm was coming through and it was much more destructive than the first part. The winds were relentless, and it felt like it would never stop. Our radio station lost its signal. Finally, late that evening, it passed, and we could leave the safe room and go inside the house. The wind was still whipping, and we had leaks coming from the ceiling in our kitchen, covered porch and garage. After getting buckets under the leaks, caring for the pets, and getting them settled, we went to bed to rest, but there was little sleep. The wind and the banging were too disconcerting to allow our minds to relax. 

The next morning, we faced the aftermath. It felt like we were entering a war zone. Wreckage, water, down trees–it was overwhelming and dangerous. You never know the reason some homes are almost untouched, and others ripped to pieces. We are grateful and lucky as our home had minor damage compared to others, and we were safe. With little sleep, raw nerves, and shock, we explored our neighborhood to see who had stayed and if they were okay. Our home was covered with dirt and the trees were stripped bare. Plants were brown from the windburn. The inside of the house was full of dust, as though the walls had been shaken and the dust had settled from the disturbance. We ventured out to see countless electrical poles snapped, and lines were down everywhere. On a drive to check on a friend, we came across a line down across the road. It was hard to see, but you could skirt around it on the ditch side without getting in the water. Upon our return, an elderly lady with three dogs did not see the downed line, and it hooked her mirror. The line caught the car and flipped it over into the ditch. The car was upside down, in about 3 feet of water. I believe the driver was in shock as she kept pressing the gas pedal. As my husband ran to help her, I flagged down a truck so they wouldn’t hit the line. Within seconds, an entire community of people was there to help. A truck pulled up with a chain and hooked it to her car and pulled her back over. She and the dogs were stunned, but okay. 

We would fill the following days trying to get information. We found out we couldn’t get off the island other than by boat. The road had been washed away and part of a bridge collapsed. Each day brought more to clean up, shocking stories of harrowing experiences, fear of looting, rumors, frustration, abandonment, the kindness and concern of family and friends, as well as people offering supplies, and stepping up to do whatever it takes to help others. It’s only the beginning and the area will take some time to heal and rebuild. Some things will never be the same and perhaps some change is good. My heart breaks for those who lost family, homes, and livelihoods. I am humbled and grateful for our safety and well-being. 

Wildlife has something to teach us. Sitting on our porch overlooking the undeveloped property and woods across from our home, I watched eagles flying around carrying nesting items for rebuilding. We have several gopher tortoises around our home that live in the ground. We know their homes were flooded, but a few days after the storm we saw one in the area. The squirrels came out within a day looking for food and the seasonal, true snowbirds are showing up. The first sighting of Wood Storks appeared and then the beautiful flight of the White Pelicans, flying in formation, dipping, and turning showing their white then black feather contrast. It makes me feel hope. 

Days later, I was talking to my husband about the Ibis and how powerful that moment was for me. I was telling him it reminded me of a movie scene and before I could finish; he told me about the same scene from the Titanic movie.

Each day I see nature healing, new growth, and wildlife continuing as though nothing happened. It gives me hope. I would like to believe the Ibis made it.

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” – Desmond Tutu

Robin Anne Griffiths – Founder of ReChargeMe Zone * Behavioral Change Specialist * Yoga Instructor * Meditation Facilitator * Personal Trainer * Author * Speaker * Helping people on a journey for change to live a fuller and healthier life. Find out more about her work at www.rechargemezone.com.