Osprey - 6-17-2015 at 10:00 AM
Bobby
Bobby is eleven years old, almost eleven and a half. He’s tall for eleven. His hair reminds me of Sierra bunch grass in late summer – defies control
and could contribute to range fires, maybe feed some ‘Huns or Chucker. He’s got my green eyes but they are real green, not soupy excuses for eyes like
mine.
I think he’s at the age now that he will begin to soak things up like a sponge; just hearing a tune he likes causes the thing to be hard wired for the
next 50 years or so. It’s the age at which I think I can begin to fill him up with things I know about. I don’t need books or blackboards or computers
– the things I want him to know about I just point to. When we walk the beach, swim a while we are surrounded by things I can point to that I have
become familiar with. It’s my hangin’ around so long that makes me a good teacher and I’m not so busy I can’t find the time. Truth be known, I like
setting him straight on things. It’s one of my best things lately.
He’s a good kid with average intelligence. All I require of him is that he be of good cheer and remain attentive. I know I can only capture his
imagination in little short chunks so I try to give my orts of wisdom accordingly.
This last week we had plenty of time in the mornings for him to learn about aerodynamics, about how shore birds fish, about the double tough life of a
Mexican bait fisherman.
Just by pointing at pelicans I could teach Bobby how and why they do what he sees. We were in the water up to our necks, toes just barely touching the
sandy bottom as two squadrons came our way very close to shore. One group glided just inches above the wavelets searching for sardines, herring,
caballito. The great birds’ eye can look straight down and a little to the rear to spot shoals of small fry in their wing shadows. Others stayed
higher to spot dark concentrations of fish a foot or two below the surface. I showed Bobby how the lazy loners glided along with one primary feather
at the wingtip almost touching the wet sand – a gentle sloping beach becomes a tiny but important natural airfoil giving just enough lift to the big
birds to allow them to skim for miles without having to move a muscle while watching the surface for action.
I can hear his question now as I point out a pair not far from us who stopped and plopped, bobbing lazily close to shore like us. He wants to know if
they saw some fish, stopped to dive for them.
“Nope, they just slowed and landed softly on the water. Don’t know what they saw but they can’t dive very well from the surface. If a small fish swims
by they can try to capture it with that big bill but it is a hit and miss affair at best. Suppose you could only catch fish with your mouth, your
bill, and you saw some small fish swimming beneath you right now. You can see you’d have a heck of a time catching anything – they usually find the
fish from the air, gain the proper height, fold back their wings and dive deep and straight to capture the fish in that big bill-bag affair. On days
when all the fish go deep, the birds don’t eat.”
Not far down the beach the sound of an outboard got our attention. It was Leonardo coming in from his morning run for bait. Many local bait guys have
regular stations where they can stay close to shore, close to schools of bait fish and still be available for the charter boats – the boats queue up
and one by one come alongside Leonardo’s panga to receive big scoops of sardines, herring, mullet, mackerela and caballito.
The charter cruisers in the bay pay up to $20 dollars per scoop depending on the supply and demand so a guy like Leonardo, working alone, has a long,
hard early run but can earn a couple of hundred dollars and get back on the beach by 9 AM.
I explained to Bobby that the throw nets, some 12 feet across, are a very effective capture devise for small bait but like the pelicans, they gather
only fish right on the surface. There are days when my fisherman pal finds no bait or bait too small or sees the bait far below, too deep to corral
with a throw net and comes home without a centavo in his pocket.
There are so many things for Bobby to learn about down on the beach. We spent one whole week of mornings on the tides and currents and what they do in
this big bay called The Gulf of California. There’s no end to the subjects we can cover down there just walking and swimming and staying alert and
alive to what’s around us.
Bobby’s not what you would call a good swimmer. He just kinda barely keeps his head above water with those big hands and feet with a furious and
continuous dog paddle.
Makes all the difference in the world to me to have somebody around to talk to, to teach.
Sometimes I wish there was a real Bobby. I still have unanswered questions of my own. I wonder why I am doing this now, so late in life; how come I
never had an imaginary buddy when I was a kid.
Maybe it’s a need thing. Maybe I didn’t need one way back when but I can use one now.
Udo - 6-17-2015 at 05:03 PM
Your post, Jorge, has gone most of the day without any responses. I have an excuse, I was at two doctor's offices most of today, and most of the time
was because of travel time.
This is a great piece:
Learned a couple of new things:
The pelicans, if the fish go deep, they go hungry! Perhaps I never really paid attention, but it seems that pelicans come up with something
every time I have seen them dive.
Leonardo does double duty...bait person andcharterboat captain...NICE!
Near the end of the story, Bobby is learning about the SOC tides. I did quite a bit of research on the SOC tides (I needed to in order to be
seaworthy for my crossing from San Felipe to Puerto Peñasco on a Hobie 16 catamaran). The SOC tide is more like a large tsunami that comes from the
Pacific ocean and floods the Gulf of California until it gets to the head of the Gulf. Then it retreats. twice a day.
I wish I would have been around someone like you when I was at my formidable years. Life would have been much easier.
woody with a view - 6-17-2015 at 05:26 PM
another one to add to the 3 ring binder!
Osprey, I enjoyed reading your stories under the salt pine trees in BdeLA 2 weeks ago with a drink in my hand and my toes in the sand. I began with my
favorite (Smart Dolphins) and read aloud to my wife. by the time I neared the end of it I couldn't read a sentence without cracking up out loud. Bia
knows I'm crazy, and she always tries to understand when I get that funny look on my face and start laughing to myself like a madman! she'll get it
one day, I hope....
THANKS for the fun and keep them coming buddy!
pacocacho - 6-18-2015 at 02:37 AM
There is a Bobby in every child you encounter. It doesn´t have to be your own. There is no property between souls, even your own children are not
"yours" and by contrast, all kids are "yours"
But the real Bobby in that kid that still lives inside us. I´m also still trying to teach the kid I was. Trying to make him understand what life is
and how been constantly in the "here and now" makes the past turn into present and makes me still feel like an eleven year old kid in a fifty year old
body.
.
Osprey - 6-18-2015 at 07:21 AM
Paco, ah, the inner child. I think you and I could share a bottle of Gusano Rojo and talk about that until nothing made any sense at all.
Thanks for the thoughtful critique.