Late for Dinner

In my last post I wrote about the unlucky squids and flying fishes we find each morning stiff and lifeless on the deck. Mention was also made about the possibility that one of us could be struck by one of these projectile-like creatures when they fling themselves aboard during the night.

The next evening, it nearly happened.

Just after dark, as we prepared dinner, a flying fish came crashing into the cockpit. Everyone was inside, so none of us were hit. But we’d only recently come indoors.

No sooner had one miniature kamikaze been safely dispatched back into the sea, when another scored an even more impressive feat by landing just inside the cabin doorway. It felt as if Turtlebones was under attack from suicidal fish the size of bananas. 

In a rare instance of unanimity, we decided not to eat out in the cockpit that evening.

Tonight, just after dinning – inside, once again – we had a different kind of uninvited visitor. Sparked by a paper Shawn’s been working on, the three of us were deep into a conversation about the looming societal impacts of artificial intelligence, when suddenly a bird interrupted the proceedings – crashing to an inelegant landing in the doorway. 

To say we were startled would be a gross understatement. After the initial commotion, the poor thing just sat there dazed and clearly injured. It couldn’t walk or fly.

What to do? We agreed it was impossible to keep the wounded bird aboard in the hope of recovery. So, reluctantly, Shawn donned gloves and picked it up with a towel. Certainly, none of us were happy about putting this lovely creatue over-board. But we were resigned to the grim fact that whatever slim chance of survival it might have would be no greater with us than in the water.

Bill