A Safe Harbor
Back to the land, back to the sea
A naturalist cavorts with seals
The tide is slack, the water so still it seems it might shatter. Seals float, suspended, in the shallows, two dozen pairs of dark eyes looking towards land. I feel a kinship with these animals, a relationship, or I want one, anyway. Their gaze is towards me. Do they recognize me, from far back in time, as one with whom they share history? Do they consider me at all? Shorebirds amble among the rocks — here a fling of dunlins, there a pair of oystercatchers, red beaks and eyes bright among the intertidal murk. Cormorants and gulls roost offshore, on little Goose Island. There are more seals there, too, indistinct lumps on the sandy shore. Ducks and geese float by on the water, which is now showing the barest of ripples. Soon enough, the tide flows faster, and there are eddies and waves and chop. The sounds of surf mingle with the bellowing of sea lions from distant outcroppings, a sound like the revving of so many engines, getting ready to roll. A bald eagle flies out to Goose Island …