Snorkling

Snorkling.  How fun.  Of course, you have to have the right equipment or, like me, you  become all-too-acquainted with sea water.  Gargling with warm salted water when I have a sore throat a throat is bad enough.  But the improper use of snokling equipment -- or older equipment that has seen better days -- makes for a rather salty experience.

The problem is that where we're staying is devoid of marine life.  The only things we get to see, besides the pelicans, herons and plovers, are ghost crabs and Sergeant Majors, some sort of useless fish that schools near the shore.  But the funniest thing I saw down on the bottom was the crab holes made all across the sand.  At first, all I saw were holes but the farther out I swam, I noticed that through either the crabs' efforts or the effect of the current, small domes sprouted up above the holes, with the holes still intact and visible.  The effect was to have dozens of sand penises across the bottom of the gulf.  We've dubbed it the Penis Farm as a result.

One of my favorite experiences here was watching the pelicans have breakfast.  These big, ugly, ungainly birds displayed a surprising grace as they would fly a couple of yards over the water and then swoop down, plunging their oversized, jai alai beaks into the water to earn their breakfast fish.  They would do this over and over again, hungrily seeking out their next scaly morsels. 

(c) 2012 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles