They say that when sailors are lost at sea, in their next lives they come back as seagulls. I wonder if sometimes they come back as sparrows, too?
After the rains had lifted and the kayakers left, we dingied to shore. It was a broken shell beach, and a midden as well, but I don’t believe the part of Tracey Island that beaches onto Monday Anchorage was ever the site of a village. The land is too steep and rocky. (Edit: according to Bill Proctor, this actually was the site of a village. Oops, faulty logic of a prairie sailor, I guess?) A creek flowed with the abundance of rainfall, and Ling Zhi grew on dead and fallen trees.
As we were about to push the dingy back into the water to leave, a sparrow landed at our feet. He seemed to be fearless, allowing me to crouch down right beside him and take his picture. We hopped into the dingy, and so did he. He didn’t even flinch when we started up the motor, in fact before too long he was sitting on Cap’n Adam’s knee. On the ride back to the catamaran he went back and forth between us, nipping playfully at our fingers and toes.
Once back at the big boat, I grabbed a cracker and broke it up for him. He happily sat and ate it, while also pecking at any insects that happened to fly by. We decided to name him Mondae, after the anchorage and the day of the week it happened to be. When he was full of cracker, he flew into the cockpit and inspected everything – the lines, the hula girl, the steering wheel, the throttle. All the while he took turns visiting both of us, landing on our hands or legs or shoulders, nipping gently. He also didn’t flinch when we started up the diesel engines or when we hoisted the anchor. He even watched very closely as Cap’n Adam pulled up the crab trap, and seemed to approve of the big male crab we decided to keep.
The three of us headed out of Monday Anchorage, motored through Trainer Passage, went around Crib Island and travelled through Sunday Harbour. We crossed Arrow Passage and wound our way around the multitude of islets just west of Bonwick Island.
In total we motored for about 3 hours today. Mondae would occasionally fly to the dingy (where his cracker crumbs were piled up for him), then fly back to hang out with us. He seemed to like to be near Cap’n Adam, sometimes helping him steer, sometimes just hanging out on the throttle. He spent a lot of time on the winch - preening himself, taking big breaths and puffing himself out, having short naps, standing on one leg then the other, taking lots of poos. At one point, he perched himself on the dingy line and sang a song for us. When I pulled out my laptop to see if we had internet connection, he came right over to check out the new piece of equipment. I shed a few tears when I found out that Jack Layton died this morning. While I read his Last Letter to All Canadians out loud to Cap’n Adam, Mondae sat on my shoulder and played with my hair.
We threw the anchor back down in Dusky Cove at Bonwick Island. At that time the sky was blue and the sun was hot, but in the blink of an eye a nasty squall rolled in. The clouds grew dark, the wind blew strong, and the rain pelted the sea so hard that it bounced. Cap’n Adam and I huddled inside the cabin, closing the hatches and wondering if we were going to have to change locations to be better protected. Worried a bit about Mondae (who wasn’t allowed inside the boat), we checked outside to see if he was OK. He had tucked himself into the electronic equipment box, sheltered from the winds and the rains. As quickly as it had started, the squall was over and the sun came back out. Mondae’s crackers were soaked and scattered, so I grabbed him another and he seemed as excited as a dog who knows he’s about to get a treat.
As I write this, the sun has gone down and Mondae has left us for the night. Perhaps he will be back in the morning for some breakfast crackers.
They say that when a sailor is lost at sea, they come back as a seagull. But I wonder if sometimes they come back as a sparrow?
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