Back At Last

Back at last! Spent the summer at sea, and then was sucked up on August 6 into the bilge of a Korean ship. Circulated around the terrible water in the company of a host of breeding jellyfish, and the water indeed became most foul. I met a stupid parrot, a vain and ancient creature who was supposed to write for me, but did not. Finally, F-L-O-O-S-H out I came, flushed out just at the mouth of the Columbia when the ship had to lighten up to go upriver. Thank goodness! I had had it with the stink and darkness and dizzy sloshing of that bilge. Curiously, the bilge was also full of books - some stowaway had been found, and the Koreans threw all his stuff into the bilges. Luckily for him (and me) they did not throw him in the bilge, too - but it meant for a lot of reading for me once I convinced the jellyfish to light up my endless night in that bilge. I returned on the very high tides of early September, going from wave tip to wave tip to my home beach - curious to think of this as home now. No sign of my correspondent Nacho, or anyone else I knew - not the kids who had me in the jar, no one. The beach was littered with dead jellyfish, and some adolescent cormorants were sadly standing on the shore, waiting for a ride, but no ride came. Whales passing again, southward bound, and many sharks in the waters. Meteor showers like I have never seen - reminded me of my family, way down south, a galaxy of marine stars. Sigh.

Luckily I have made a new friend, a curly-haired terrior or something like that - he has quite an accent, like Sean Connery, sort of, and his owner is a Marine General, retired. Robbie has a lot of time on his paws, since his owner seems kind of sad and quiet, so Robbie and I can spend a lot of time together talking. Robbie pretends he's digging. The General says, "I don't know what's got into that dog." Anyway, Robbie is a genius typist and a very good conversationalist, kind of a philosopher, at least compared to a jellyfish, or a parrot.

So have you heard the word about Greenland? I heard from some birds here, who heard it from their cousins up in Nunavut, who come from out East, that it is very bad up there, near the pole. The seals, in their short-thinking way, are thrilled that the water is so grimy, slimy and green with fresh water and gravels and stuff. The poor, emaciated, yellowy polar bears can hardly smell them, and so the seals are thriving. But how long can it last? The whole Arctic is turning into a bilge.