June is an odd, unpredictable month when it comes to weather. Here, on California’s Central Coast, we complain if the temperature varies by more than 5 degrees F, and we complain a lot in June. But today, I find an agreeable hour in the afternoon when the wind calms and the sun is mild. I go for a walk
I want to see what is happening to the seasonal ponds in the dunes. These low areas fill up with water after it rains, and perhaps have some leftover sea water from high tides. The brackish waters still call for the local birds, and I enjoy finding them here. But we have had a month of sun and wind, and I am thinking that the ponds will be dry today.
When I reach the dunes, I find a little water, but it has turned swampy. I think that the mallard ducks I noticed last time have found a better place for their temporary home. I see several curlews sticking their long, curved beaks into the sand, and I wonder if they are testing out potential nesting places. Then I think more likely they are scrounging for the little plover eggs that I have never seen, but are said to be everywhere on this protected area. Curlews, apparently, ignore the warning signs that tell us humans to stay away.
I think back to the many times I have walked through this area, the ponds coming and going with the seasons. Occasionally, I have to find an alternate route, being blocked by water or nesting ducks or mud. Many more times, the ponds simply shift, along with the dunes, finding a spot to settle that is just slightly different than the last season.
A large group of sea gulls flies overhead and calls for my attention. I turn south to see wave after wave of the birds all flying north past me toward the town of Cayucos, maybe even farther. I wonder what would have caused this. A cluster of seafood in the waves farther north on the beach? As more and more make the flight northward, it is apparent that the birds know something I do not, and it makes me curious. Blue herons and a vulture or two join the flight north. The sky is so filled that I get distracted with the sight and forget I have a camera in my hands. By the time I have things in focus on the viewfinder, this bit of local migration has passed. Like on so many walks, I will have nothing but my memory to help me understand what I see every day. It’s better that way. I can embellish my steps with what I recall and how it feels rather than be constrained with the evidence of a real-world photo.
If I could fly, I could find out where the gulls and their companions are headed, and maybe the reason for their flight. But I am feet-only today, and can’t imagine having wings to pull me up into the clouds, or even a small distance off the ground. The mass of flying creatures has disappeared from sight so I have to be satisfied with the spectacle of their race past me, and grateful for the feet that made it possible for me walk along and watch.
I begin the walk back home. It’s a daily bit of good fortune, and I imagine I will see something else extraordinary tomorrow.
Susan Vasquez 