Journal of a Sabbatical

September 16, 1998

at last, wednesday does not feel like monday

Copyright © 1998, Janet I. Egan

Maine bit First Aid Kit Guy. Maine's usually a love but she constantly has escape on her mind and when First Aid Kit Guy was on his way back out to his truck to get the stuff we need (he comes in and checks the kit first, then brings up only the things we need) Maine slipped out the door into the stairwell. First Aid Kit Guy tried to shoo her back in and she just chomped on him real good. He had to use the first aid kit on himself. We all had a laugh at his expense, but he was pretty mellow about it. He likes cats and understands the risks.

Joey, a long-haired orange and white one, ventured out of his cage and plunked himself down on the floor a few feet away like the floor was just an extension of his cage. Chantal just walked right past him, right into the cage, and curled up in his bed quite contentedly. At first Joey didn't seem to notice, then he wanted to use his litter box and when he went back into his cage he noticed Chantal. No hissing, no meowing, no fighting, just raised fur, arched backs and long cold stares. They stayed in this standoff for several minutes while we all watched. Finally, Chantal slinked past Joey and left him alone. A fight averted. Whew!

Peresido (whom Bob calls Presidio and so do a lot of us) spent a lot of time sniffing my bleach water while I was doing dishes. He even begged for my wet dirty dish rag! Seriously. He meowed and begged and meowed and begged and then howled when I wouldn't give it to him. Bob and I tried to figure out the appeal of the dish rag and decided it must smell really interesting to a cat. At least to that cat. If we had 45 cats begging for wet dish rags I'd make my fortune selling a hitherto unknown cat treat!

Last week, Roberta had this bright idea that I should give her, Bob, and Nora a tour of the refuge after our shift today. So we called in sub orders to Dick's Variety on the island with the idea of picnicking on the benches at Hellcat. Bob couldn't go with us after all, so it was just me, Roberta, and Nora. Nora was too hungry to wait til we got to Hellcat so I pulled over at parking lot 1 so we could eat the subs in the car. Turns out Roberta had to meet her son at his doctor's office at 2:00, which didn't give us much time. We ended up kind of rushing the whole expedition and we still ended up being late.

I showed them the whimbrels at North Pool Overlook (all six are still there so I conclude the harrier still hasn't had the delicious whimbrel meal he's after) and then we walked the Dune Loop trail from Hellcat 'cause it has a great view from its highest point on the dunes. I gave a very abbreviated version of the vegetation zones talk. We looked for a spot where Roberta claimed to have seen snakes mating once but in the shade there it was way too cool for snakes. We spotted a downy woodpecker,a brown thrasher, a zillion catbirds, some chipmunks and squirrels but no foxes or deer, which is what Nora really wanted to see. At the end of the Dune Loop I asked if they wanted to do the Marsh Loop or spend some time looking for bones (Roberta's hobby) and shells on the beach at Sandy Point in the time we had left. Naturally Roberta voted for the beach.

The tide was about halfway out so lots of tide pools were exposed among the rocks and there was lots of stuff on the beach, but it was all pretty well picked over from a beachcombing point of view because a bus load of junior high kids had spent the afternoon there. They were just finishing up when we arrived.

But before that, before we left Hellcat, I thought I might be able to show them the fork tailed flycatcher and other cool birds near the dike. So I said "I want to show Nora the dike." Roberta broke into this nervous laughter. I looked a her, looked at Nora, and said "I didn't mean me." Nora said: "or me either". Roberta was deeply embarrassed and said "I shouldn't have laughed". We teased her a little as we walked along the dike and then focused on the enormous number of mockingbirds in evidence.

OK, back to the beach.

Nora and I walked among the rocks looking for bones for Roberta's collection while Roberta sat on the sand smoking a cigarette. I slipped on a wet rock and banged my right knee on a bigger rock in front of me. All I could think of was Joan-east's daughter who fell on a marble floor at work on Friday and shattered her knee requiring 5 hours of surgery and bone grafts. I knew I hadn't broken anything and that I'll have a nasty bruise tomorrow, but I just had to brood about how easily one slip can put a person out of commission for months.

By this time, I'm concerned that Roberta will be late. In fact she's already late. I march both of them to the car and speed (well, exceeding the speed limit is not the same as speeding when I can only get the car to do 25 on the dirt road without shaking us to bits) to where we left Roberta's car.

I wish we'd had a little more time. Nora wants to go back again next week. Maybe we will and maybe Roberta won't have an appointment.

I would have liked to go swimming. The air was warm enough today to take advantage of the warm September water. The water at Plum Island is always warmer in September. I felt it when I slid off the rock and really wanted to just plunge in and go swimming. The only reason more people don't swim there in the fall is the cold fall air. You're fine as long as you're in the water but you freeze as soon as you get out.

When I was catching up on journal reading, I came across Ceej's entry about Pescadero State Beach. That reminded me of how warm the water gets here in fall because of the Gulf Stream. It seems so strange to think of anything in Massachusetts being warmer than in California, but in general cold currents flowing toward the equator on the western sides of continents cause dry, arid conditions , and warm currents flowing north on the eastern sides of continents produce warm, humid conditions. The Gulf Stream is a warm current that flows northward along the east coast of the US making winters along here warmer than they would otherwise be. Not too far north of here, just off Newfoundland, the Gulf Stream turns east (where it mixes with the cold Labrador current coming down from the north) and breaks into a couple of currents that, among other things, warm the coast of Iceland, which explains why winters in Reykjavik are not that much worse than they are in Boston despite the more northerly latitude. The currents have an enormous effect on climate. The dryness that we associate with California (those golden hills and perfect sunny days) comes from the California Current flowing southward along the west coast. Of course, El Niño throws this off quite a bit, resulting in the strange weather Californians experienced last winter. This is a kind of oversimplified explanation but a detailed one would probably take a whole book.