Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Canoeing with Phoebe

There comes a time in every parent's life, I hope, when you are struck by the wonder that this child you have so carefully raised and taught has suddenly morphed into a friend. That time comes along about when they begin to be able to pull their own weight around the house, offer a fresh perspective on a problem; commiserate and even comfort you. It's the most stunning thing--it's as if you've groomed this creature to understand everything about you, and it suddenly comes of age, wakes up and offers you sage advice, turns the tables on you in a most delightful way.

Phoebe can handle her own canoe now. This is a big deal for me. I adore canoeing alone, but I like having a companion even more. I like teaching Phoebs what I know about paddling and handling a boat, which isn't much, but is enough to get us where we need to go.
She is a quick student, propelling her craft with those spindly little arms. I wore her out, forgetting that mine are somewhat better muscled. Luckily we had calm water and light breezes, and Phoebe went to school on turning and maneuvering her decked canoe. We drew close to shore and Phoebs was transfixed by a bathing blue jay. It's not like a blue jay to bathe where you can watch--they're wary little corvids. But birds aren't threatened by people in canoes, nearly as much as they fear people on foot. Great blue herons are an exception--they know all about watercraft.
Right behind the jay was a great blue heron, preoccupied with his new catch. It looks a bit like a chub. I'm sure there are fishermen who could have told us what it was, but they weren't out on this fine, shiny Saturday afternoon. The Chimp is crestfallen not to have an ID. It's a neat looking fish. If I'd seen it in the Gulf of Mexico, I'd have called it a flying fish. Anyone?
One thing that fish was, was GONE, in short order. Phoebe watched in horrified fascination as it met its death in a herony acid bath.
Urrrp.
I never watch herons process their catch but I imagine what it would be like to eat a live fish without benefit of silverware or even hands. Yiccccch.

Watching my girl float, cradled on gentle waters, filled my heart.

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