Ooh,
the symbolic fencing fairy has provided actual rope to
replace the fraying orange raffia! Yay! Yay! Yay! Still
not enough extra signs for unbelievably low tide today,
but the stick fence that Big Steve and several of the
plover wardens have been assembling along the boundary is
really shaping up. It almost forms an actual rather than
symbolic fence. Good thing too as with the low tide line
so far away and the amazing number of people on the beach
because it's the first nice day of summer, which in
Massachusetts means it's the last nice day there's ever
going to be, I'm in for a busy day.
I'm talking to some visitors who
want to know all about the piping plovers when two kids,
a boy and a girl, show up. They're pretty young.
The boy announces he is going
"over there" pointing to the closed area.
"No you're not," say I, and the kid
glares at me. I look around for the parents but don't see
them. Both kids head down to the low tide line looking
over their shoulders periodically. I watch the boy and
wave him away from the closed area a couple of times,
chasing him once. I'm back up talking to some more
visitors when the boy takes off again.
Visitor, looking over at the kids:
"Where do you suppose their parents are?" Me: "I was just
wondering the same thing." I'm starting to get worried.
These kids are too young to be at the beach alone. The
girl runs up to the path that leads to the parking lot,
looks around, and runs back to the boy exclaiming "I
don't know where they are!"
Uh-oh. She must mean the parents!
Now what do I do? I wonder how far away Unit 61 is?
Should I radio the gatehouse? I take the radio off my
belt and press the button. I'm just about to speak when
the parents appear and the kids run up to greet them.
They tell the kids it took a long time but they found a
really good parking space. It took both of them to park
the car?
A 3 1/2 year old boy, who is
accompanied by parents who pay attention to him, is
fascinated with my stick fence. He wants to know why the
sticks are arranged the way they are, how to add sticks
to the fence, why I don't have enough rope, why the fence
doesn't go all the way down to the tide line, why am I
there, what are piping plovers... I think he sort of
understands what a National Wildlife Refuge is and what
an endangered species is, not bad for 3 1/2 year old. Now
he's fascinated with ME and wants to talk to me all the
time, tell me where his grandmother lives, where he
lives, where he might move to, all manner of things. He
really does almost get it what a National Wildlife Refuge
is because he then gets a puzzled look on his face and
says "There are no animals here." "Sure there are,
there's a ring-billed gull right in front of you, and
this huge green dragonfly, and the piping plovers and
least terns ..." "No, we saw animals at the zoo." "Oh,
what animals did you see at the zoo?" "We saw gorillas
and chimps and a camel!" "Umm, those animals live in
Africa and people catch them to bring to the zoo for
people to look at, they don't normally live in
Massachusetts." "What kind of animals live in
Massachusetts? I don't see any green dragon. Why do those
birds live here when it's so dangerous? Why...?" Good
questions kid.
Meanwhile, Unit 3 has arrived with
a huge crowd of kids for a tidepool presentation. They
just keep coming. I tell her she's got quite a posse
today. The previously parentless children are headed for
the closed area again so I take off after them and then
speak to the parents. The parents tell me the kids are
interested in hermit crabs. I strongly suggest they go to
Unit 3's tidepool thing. I'm wearing a groove into the
sand between the end of the symbolic fence and the tide
line.
I'm about to sit back down in my
beach chair when the verbal 3 1/2 year old announces he
has to pee and drops his swim trunks. This could be very
unpleasant on a crowded beach on a hot day. Fortunately
the father hears him announce this and scoops him up to
take him to the latrine. The kid is not happy but I
reassure them both that the outhouses are really clean
and don't smell bad at all.
I'm still wearing a groove in the
sand to the tide line when the tidepool thing ends, Unit
3 leaves, and I have to go intercept a totally oblivious
couple who never heard of piping plovers or least terns
or beach closures. When I get back to my backpack and
chair again somebody asks if I have bandaids in my
backpack. Nope. Somebody skinned a knee on a
barnacle-encrusted rock while tidepooling. Then another
kid with a bloody knee asks for a bandaid, which I don't
have, and then another, and another.... A woman,
apparently a parent of one of the skinned knee kids,
wants to know if there's a first aid kit at the outhouse
-- negative, and besides that the kid is really only
scraped -- we're not talking major cuts and contusions
here. Barnacles are sharp but these kids are not
seriously hurt. Fortunately, another beach goer overhears
the pleas for bandaids and produces some from her beach
bag.
Hmm, maybe I should ask Gatehouse
to put some bandaids in the backpack for next time and I
should bone up on what qualifies as an animal to a 3 1/2
year old. Not to mention what to do about unaccompanied
children...