Building Community

A greater sense of community has developed among the interns here for the second half of the season.  Perhaps, in the group before, we lacked an initiator, someone to really bring everyone together, helping to establish a homey kind of feel at the centre.  More time has been spent with others than individually, as we have shared meals, gone out on the town, watched movies, and camped out for sunrises as a group.

I was not conscious for the majority of the first sunrise trip, since it was well past my bedtime and I had to work early the next morning.  I slept during the car ride up to the top of Mount Maxwell, and then we hiked a short distance to the predetermined look-out spot, where I curled up on a rock face with some blankets and went back to sleep.  I was awoken just before sunrise the next morning and the view was already breathtaking.  We were overlooking Fulford Harbour and the islands beyond and the sky was just beginning to lighten up.  However, what we saw of the sun was through the trees, since we were facing south, so we determined to find a more advantageous spot for the next time.

The next sunrise was at Beddis Beach.  It felt a bit colder, even though we were a much lower elevation.  We had a fire, and of course, I soon fell asleep. At some point in the night, I was awoken by the delighted screams of my friends and was urged to get up and come to the water’s edge.  Someone ran their hands through the water and it sparkled, not like sunlight looks on the water, but instead, it looked like fairy dust as you see in the movies.  It has something to do with phytoplankton blooms and, most likely, some other conditions as well.  Rocks were tossed and everyone began playing with this magical looking substance.  Still being half asleep at the time, it now feels as if the whole thing were a dream.  This time, we were situated due east, so the sun popped up from behind the neighboring island right in front of us.  It reminded me of being back in Ireland with the sunrise right there, always in view, and the brilliance of the sun, gradually ascending into the sky.

Camping in Victoria

Nearly two months ago now, I took a day trip to Victoria with a friend. We managed to get up early to catch the second ferry out, in spite of working a midnight shift the night before.  We visited book stores, coffee shops, ate good food, and mostly wandered around and down to the coast, where you could look across the way to Washington state and off to the southeast, where a narrow strip of open ocean was visible.

Unfortunately, we neglected to check ferry times back to the island, and so, ended up arriving back at the terminal an hour after the last ferry had left for the night.  The security guard was very helpful and concerned and offered to pick us up from Denny’s, one of the few places open twenty-four hours, once he finished his shift and bring us back to the terminal to catch the first ferry out.  Instead, we figured that we would see some more of Victoria and not spend so much time camping out at Denny’s and the ferry terminal a few hours before it opened, so we headed back on the bus to downtown.  We caught some live music at one of the pubs near the waterfront, and tried to take advantage of any open businesses, where we could keep warm before settling down for the night, since we had decided to try sleeping in Beacon Hill Park.

It was a quiet night and quite chilly for August.  After about two hours of trying to sleep in the park, it became too cold to stay asleep any longer, particularly since we had not come prepared.  At that point in the night, all I could think about how my ex could have possibly spent an entire winter in New England like this and I could not even last one night of August in Canada.  He gained some more respect from me in that aspect.  So we started walking and came upon a seven eleven, where we warmed up, bought cereal, and got direction to the closest Tim Horton’s, which seems to be Canada’s version of Dunkin’ Donuts and is often open twenty-four hours.  The walk only took about half an hour and we spent another two hours in the doughnut shop sipping warm beverages and trying to not fall asleep.

We made it early to the bus stop and were incredibly relieved once the bus was in sight, as we knew that our ordeal was drawing to a close.  I managed to stay awake on the hour long bus ride, but passed out on the ferry, which felt like a longer travel time than it really was.  We were quite grateful to set foot again on Salt Spring Island, and once we got home, I went straight to bed, before working that afternoon.

First Seal Release

Today is the day of the first seal release.  We have come a long way together over such a short period of time.  The veterinarian pulled out pictures of some of the first seals from when they initially arrived at the center and, what a difference!  Those adorable, fluffy white creatures cowering in bath tubs have grown up to be big, fat sausages living it up in the above-ground pools.  That time has been a learning and growing process for us all with a string of challenges and successes along the way.   

To start, there was the fear of gavage feeding, for the seals, gradually coming to understand that this is what fills their bellies with food, and for the interns trying to master this technique for the first time.  Before too long, we were bombarded by seals, who could not be fed quickly enough, in spite of all our attempts to organize and hustle.  The older pups soon learned to swallow and eagerly awaited feeding time, and eventually, got booted out of isolation to the outdoor nursery pools to make room for the newcomers.  Even still, there were not enough tubs for all, so they began to be paired up, with some enjoying the company of a buddy, while others seemed to resent sharing and, sometimes, lashed out at their roommate when not distracted and less stressed by swimming at bath time.  They were slowly introduced to fish as play toys in their baths and some did not seem terribly interested, while others mutilated the fish, and a few special individuals quickly taught themselves to swallow it whole.  The pools became increasingly chaotic as more seals graduated to the outdoors, even with the addition of a fourth pool about halfway through the season.   

Currently, there are seventeen seals in isolation, many of which are awaiting their turn to be moved outside, especially since they have already mastered hand-feeding fish.  Only seven more seals have arrived within the past few weeks, and things are slowing down, compared to the forty-something seals crammed into isolation less than two months ago, demanding much attention.  Every day, these pups move one step closer to freedom as they learn to feed in the water or feed themselves by diving after the fish tossed in the pools.  Just a couple of days ago, four pups were witnessed free-feeding and these suspicions were confirmed by their drastic weight gain over a matter of days.   

Now, after arriving at under twenty pounds, our first four seals, weighing in at around sixty pounds each, will be released today from the northeast of the island.  It is apparently a seal haven a short swim from here with lots of rock beds, less populated islands, and likely a wealth of food sources.  I wonder at how they will fair, how easily they will be accepted by established herds, how much of a shock to their systems the sea will be, especially as they hunt for their own food.  It is a day of mixed emotions with sadness at seeing our babies head out into the real world on their own and happiness that they made it to this point; that together, we successfully achieved the mission that we had set out to fulfill.

Never Truly Alone

There are many things that I would like to write about, yet I find myself either too tired or overwhelmed by a feeling of loneliness to contemplate and focus.  Typically, I look forward to my days off, as time to get away, relax, and take a break from work.  Yet, over the past few weeks, I have found myself more quickly becoming aware of how alone I am in the moment, in spite of knowing at the back of my mind that I am surrounded by friends and am loved by those at a distance from me.  Realistically, I am never truly alone; it’s just a matter of perception.  And perhaps, only now is the shock wearing off and the reality of having no lover to return to is really sinking in.  It may be for the best that I am staying here longer, so that I may have more time to adjust, while being amidst a blossoming community.

Over the past few weeks, a greater sense of comradery has been developing among the interns.  There is more support, generosity, responsibility, caring, and concern.  Unfortunately, there is little time left for this community to grow further.  We have not quite broken the surface.  It’s been more about having fun and not feeling alone in this relatively new, often stressful and unusual environment.   I want to open up more, but I’m not sure how or what I may share.  I also don’t fancy being the center of attention for any length of time, which is the obstacle that I ran into last night when I had an urge to share my poetry.  I lost the courage to put myself out there.  Perhaps, the moment was just not right either, as there was a focus on work.

Today, I felt the need to be by the water, so here I sit on Fernwood dock.  It sounded as if something was swimming about breathing forcefully beneath me, though I couldn’t see through the cracks of the dock or imagine what could possibly be in the water below.  There are six sturdy posts rooted in the turf and extending up through the dock to prevent it from shifting too violently.  I sat next to the opening among these posts and less than a meter away from me, the little face of an otter popped up above the water’s surface.  He stared at me and extended his neck, sniffing the air, perhaps trying to get a sense of who I was and my purpose here.  I smiled and greeted him, but he soon descended back into the watery depths.

Internship Dilemma

I’m not sure what to do regarding this first internship response.  I don’t think that I fully considered the steep cost of traveling abroad, as a flight to Australia is well over $1,000.  Most of my savings would be gone.  I think it’s a bit much compared to the few hundred dollars that it took to get to British Columbia.  Also, I shouldn’t just jump on the first opportunity that presents itself to me.  I have time and there are other options.  Traveling to Australia would be amazing, but I think I might like to reserve that for marine biology work.  Yet, with this current position, I’d get my fill of physical activity, rustic living, community atmosphere, and traveling the countryside.  Although, it would be the same route, the varying conditions and bowerbird behaviors would spice thing up.  It might take some time to rebuild my stamina and endurance, but I believe that I am fully capable of doing the work.  It’s that cost...  And truthfully, I was experiencing some doubt, while reading about the daily work routine as well.  Perhaps, I’ll bow out now and hold out for something else.  I want to go to the ocean, be on the coast.  That’s what I’ve been set on since I got here.  I shouldn’t settle.

Procrastination and Other Thoughts

I have been procrastinating with journaling.  Lots of little things happen on a day to day basis, eventually accumulating to a number that is overwhelming to consider tackling with the written word, especially as they have already begun to escape, as my memory is no steel trap.  That is my excuse, and limited time, I suppose.  When I am done with work, I do not feel like doing much of anything, even the things that I generally would like to do for myself.  I have to push myself out for hikes on my day off, otherwise, it might not happen, or any other physical activity for that matter.

On my hike yesterday, I got a wake up call to take it easy on myself and pay closer attention to all of my surroundings, as I stepped up and hit my head straight into a tree that was growing bent over the trail.  I sat down to recover and was sore for a bit, before continuing on up the hill, as I did not want that to be an excuse to end my time out.  Worse things could happen as deterrents, but as long as I learned my lesson, I would likely be fine.  I managed to avoid further bumps in this particular "road". 

Someone was looking at the wildlife center's pictures the intern computer, and the one that was still up on the screen was of a seal pup, when he first arrived in June. What a change!  It is hard to believe that only about two months ago, he was a fluffy white thing, far less than twenty pounds.  He is now nearly fully grown and fat and eating whole fish on his own in a big pool with other seals on the fast track to release.  They all seemed so fragile and helpless when they arrived in June and early July, as many of them were premature and abandoned by their mothers.  Developmental time is so short in much of the animal kingdom.  The birds are even more impressive, as they spend about a week shedding their downy, baby feathers, before they are on solid food, eating on their own, and then off to a woods’ enclosure until they are deemed ready for release.  The process takes no more than a month, it seems. 

Since interns have started to leave, it has become more essential for the rest of us to be trained on the remaining aspects of the seal department, such as caring for those at the outdoor pools.  It is quite different and far more thrilling to see them in their element, healthy and thriving.  Many of them are hand feeding in the water, eagerly following the fish that their feeder wriggles about, imitating live prey.  Once they figure out how to swallow for tube feeding of mashed fish, it does not take long for them to progress along the various stages of feeding development. 

Life's Trails

As I hiked in Ruckle Park yesterday, I could not help but be overly aware of the constant twists and turns in the trail.  Some were rather sudden and unexpected, perhaps more so because my attention had been momentarily distracted by my wandering mind and the development of a false sense of security in a relative consistency of the trail.  This reminded me a lot of life that nothing can really be anticipated.  Unexpected turns of events often occur without notice, jarring us out of our comfort zones, forcing us to react, to think outside of the box.  If we do not do so, we risk falling flat on our face and having to endure an even greater struggle to get ourselves back to the place at which we started.   

Occasionally, there would be something that looked like a trail diverging from the main one, often towards the cliff edges.  I felt myself drawn towards these pseudo trails out of a sense of curiosity and defiance of sticking to what had been laid out before me.  In these moments, Ralph Waldo Emerson's quote came to mind: “Do not go where the path may lead; instead, go where there is no path and leave a trail.”  I felt that it was quite fitting for this hike and as encouragement for the direction of my life.  I also encountered a number of obstacles along my way, including slippery slopes, steep cliff drops alongside, and downed trees.  Similar, to the natural turns in the trail, I had to approach these challenges differently, keep pushing on, and find my way when it was not so clear.   

Although, it is best to make a hike or life one’s own, it is also useful to draw on the experiences of others and follow where they have been to a certain extent, as I did mostly hike on an established trail, so that you can focus more on where you really want to go, focus on those twists and turns.  There is much to learn from the lives and lessons of others, even when it does not seem that it would be possible to learn anything from a particular person or something as small and simple as an ant or a flower.  It is all in the perspective, in which one views these things.  It is too easy to be judgmental and unappreciative of what is right in front of us.