Orcas last night. Pod of half a dozen. Cruisin’ north. Dogs told us.
Megan can’t bark – she was lasered by her breeder before we got her so that people who attend dog shows don’t have to listen to a lot of barking (you’d think that if anyone would be tolerant of barking dogs it would be dog afficianados, wouldn’t you?). Fid was ‘done’, too, but his larynx has mostly grown back and he is much more vocal. Somehow, he is more auditory as well. I think.
Meg was outside doing her regular lounge act on the settee and the rest of us were inside reading (well, Fid was licking something but we’ll leave it at that). All of a sudden Fid perks up and ‘listens’. Meg was miming a barking dog out the window and he must have lip read. Or something. Then he takes up the call and all hell breaks loose.
So we get up to have a look and, sure enough, about three hundred yards out, silently (except for ‘blowing’) the whales were coursing up the channel.
Orcas are black. And it was late. They are silent except for their breathing. But somehow, I guess, Meg heard them and passed a message to Fid who, in turn, threw a holy fit in an effort to alert us. And so we, in turn, radio’d our neighbours. And we all looked out into the dark hearing heavy breathing.
Reminded me of my youth.
Not a lot these days reminds me of youth, tho. Especially Father’s Day. My kids are old enough to have kids! Last night (just before the whales) we took the boat around to unload some heavy lumber in the lagoon. Why? Because the tide was up and it so much easier to unload heavy stuff when the first fifteen feet are done for you by astrophysics.
Mind you, Sal’s recent dental surgery prohibited her from heavy lifting so I had to do it all. I hate it when that happens!
So there I am with one of five 20 foot 2 x 6 (Fir) climbing up the irregular rockface to get the 50 pound board another fifteen or so feet up the beach (for later lifting by the highline). It is just past dusk. ‘Hmmmm, other 65 year-olds are watching TV. What the hell is wrong with me?’ And, after I drop the first one, I turn back in time to see Sal dragging another off the boat and lifting it to the shore so as to make it easier on me!
“Hey!! No heavy lifting, you’ll pop a stitch!”
“Better than you having a heart attack, you old fool! And, anyway, when you drop to the rocks below with a coronary, who do you think is going to have to drag your sorry butt from there into the boat and haul you to the hospital? Believe me, helping you with a board is the easier option here!”
“Oh. Well, thanks………..I think”.
Nowadays your average person can e-mail, phone, text or, I suppose, still even fax or snail-mail. We mime, gesture, lip-read, mind-read, talk-dog and try to foresee the future. It’s all about getting the message.