The Baby Seal March 28, 2010

On our drive up to Point Reyes yesterday, we took the coast road to stop along the way and visit friends who had rented a house on Stinson Beach. My friend Carol and I walked northward along the beach until we reached the spit of land that faced Bolinas, at the entrance of the lagoon. It was the low tide, and dark sweeps of wet sand stretched out in all directions.

Close by we spied a small harbor seal, who struggled in the shallow water to make his way to the sand. He was all alone, and he let out a few strong barks. Where was his mother, we wondered.

We ran into a wildlife ranger who was shooing unleashed dogs and noisy humans away from the area. He told us that the pup, whom he estimated to be about one month old, had become separated from his mother. He surveyed the area with his binoculars. “Out there,” he said. “She’s out there on the sand bar.”

The force of the incoming tide was just too strong for the little pup to make the journey back to his mother. We watched as he inched his way into the water and tried to swim toward her, only to return exhausted. We discussed the options for saving the pup, but the ranger commented, “This is the way of nature. A shark might get him.”

This morning, Carol reported that she had seen the mother in the water, but no baby. She breathes the hope that pup and mother have been reunited. I try to share the optimism, but I’m not convinced. I’m awaiting another sighting.

The Egret March 8, 2010

Sometimes you think life can’t get any better – and then it does.

I came home from this morning’s outing to find a snowy egret outside my kitchen window. He stayed there as I made orange juice and omelets, ate them, tidied up, and took the time to write this.

My land has a swale, and with the winter rains, a silver ribbon of water traverses the lot and large puddles form nearby. The egret basks in the puddle nearest to me, his feet black from the mud, his pristine feathers rippling. His graceful form is brilliant; the crook in his neck and the curve in his back are highlighted by the morning waves of sunlight as it pierces through drifting clouds overhead. The wind is so strong that his wings expand out beside him, and I think he might have to take flight just to stay still.

He picks his way along the puddles, then tiptoes down the ribbon till he finds himself at the end and turns around. He opens his wings and slowly glides back to the large puddle to start the cycle again. The horses pay him no attention, their coats of roan and sable provide magnificent contrast to his glistening silhouette.

The swale had made other potential builders balk at buying this land, as Marin County had designated it as wetland area. I was not dissuaded, and now the fruits of that decision are before me. And I think again, how can I be so lucky?