It is impossible not to feel exposed and vulnerable when sailing on a small boat far from land and sheltered harbors. Mother Nature is clearly in command of the seas and the weather. We venture offshore prepared as best as possible. We gather the most complete forecast available. We avoid sailing in the stormy seasons. Still, we are vulnerable.
One reaction to experiencing this vulnerability is a stronger appreciation for smaller, even more vulnerable creatures that cross our paths while cruising. Protecting God’s creatures seems to be an easy way to build a balance of positive karma and keep us in Mother Nature’s good graces. I find myself even reluctant to kill certain insects. Butterflies and honeybees are top of the list to be protected! Biting flies and cockroaches are not regarded with the same respect, however.
We have been fortunate to have the opportunity to render assistance to several other more interesting creatures in our travels. On one passage from Mexico to Florida, we realized that we were sailing along a migratory route for small birds. Each evening of the four day passage we were visited by small swallows exhausted by their travels. On the first night, a swallow boldly flew in and out of the cabin to the point we lost track of him. To my surprise, I awoke at dawn in my sea berth and found the little bird just waking up in the book shelf beside me. Off he flew well rested to continue on his journey north. On the second night, once again, a small exhausted swallow found a suitable nest on the screen of a partially opened deck hatch.
The big event was on the 3rd night out when a flock of 20 or more swallows swooped into the cockpit just as the sun was setting. Surprisingly, these bold little birds showed no fear of us. They would climb on a finger or wooden handle of a spoon as we tried to move them to safe spots under the dodger. Our attempt to create order for a night at sea did not appear to be successful as the birds continued to flutter around showing particular interest in perching on the wheel that as moving back and forth under control of the autopilot. Finally when darkness fell, the birds seemed to drop into a deep sleep. We were able to scoop them up and place them in a safe place without causing them to stir in the least! As the sun rose at dawn, the spell of sleep was broken. The birds would awake, ruffle their feathers and then take off in groups of 2 and 3 at a time. Sadly, one seemed to linger until we realized that he had expired in the night. The trip must have been too much for his meager reserves. Hopefully, the rest of the flock was refreshed enough from a good night’s sleep to complete their long seasonal journey.
