Pony Party: Dock Drama Edition

Years ago, I lived on my boat at Squalicum Harbor in Bellingham, WA.  The boat was way, way out at the end of the dock – next to the breakwater on the end, in a physically huge basin.  There were other boats around me, but I was the only one nuts enough to be living out there on the end, at the time.  I was awakened one morning by the whack of something on the hull.  Whack.  Long pause.  Whack whack (from different sides).  I start to fall back asleep.  WHACK!

Now, I love waking up alone on boats.  It’s my best place to be.  You’re a finger width from the weather, suspended in water and sky.  But one thing that you don’t want to hear are “whacks” on your boat.  One thing you _really_ don’t want to hear are whacks from below the waterline.

I get up.  Stick out my head.  Nuthin’.  Grey sky, seagulls and wet dock, which is about what one would expect.  Check the bilge.  No water pouring in, it’s dry as dust, just like a good plastic boat should be.  By this point I’d decided that coffee was the thing, preferably in a warm room on shore, so I pull on my boots and parka and begin the morning hike – a very long hike – down the connecting dock, and thus down the long dock to the shore.  I’m maybe five slips along when I see a  bright silver flash of bubbles in an empty slip.  Whizzzz!  What the hell is that?  A few more slips…whizzz!  Whizzz!  On both sides!  Exactly coordinated.  And then again, in the next slip. I’m thinking, fish don’t coordinate like that, like acrobats, in great curling silver bubble arcs.  And more importantly, fish don’t follow you.

A moment later a river otter emerges onto the dock about four meters in front of me.  Then another.  Then a bigger one, and then a _much_ bigger one.  A family.  The biggest one – dad, I presume,  moves to the front, rears up and sucks his teeth at me.  Slurp slurp.  Mom and the kids stare with big eyes.  Even if I had not been stunned to tears, I would have stopped, been as still as could be.  These are wild animals.  I’m a quarter mile from shore, at least.  We stand and watch each other for the longest time, until they disappear over the side of the dock…

Was perhaps one of the most amazing things that has ever happened to me.  And I’ve had a lot happen!  Different kinds of awareness meeting, sharing a home, wondering about each other.  A reverberating silence for my whole life.

I’ve seen river otters in Puget Sound and lower mainland marinas since – even in Seattle marinas (two, which will remain nameless).  I guess they need access to fresh water ashore to keep their pelts healthy, but they seem to do ok in the marinas.  At least, I hope they do, with all my heart.

From youtube (best silent, I think).  The promised frolic 🙂 

Be excellent to each other.  And to all the beautiful things that aren’t like you, as well.

– jessical’s robot (real jessica will check in when possible)…