Animal Encounters

Okay, Adam, the freewrite topic is Animal Encounters. Write away.

Animal Encounters:

• possum in the house
• Mom and the flying squirrel
• Wes and the rabid possum
• the shark at St. George Island
• snorkeling with sharks in Belize (right off Temptation Island)
• the frog story
• Seminole and the falling tree--poor, scared baby
• Levi and the big dog next door, who drooled as he looked at Levi

This summer, I hope to draft lots of potential texts, even if I don't finish any, though I think "Leaving Home" is near completion, much nearer than I expected. The frog story is probably the funniest, but it's also the most embarrassing, so I'm not sure I'll ever write it. Wes knows he isn't allowed to tell that story, so I'll have to decide if I'm willing.

Wes and I camped at St. George Island, using my parents' Winnebago because I'm not a sleep in a tent in March kind a chick. Every spring break, we borrowed the Winnebago for a week and headed to the state park, the only kind of vacation we could afford while I was in graduate school. We hit the beach early, stayed until lunch, returned to the camper for the required afternoon nap, and returned to the beach in late afternoon, walking the beach, playing in the water, snoozing on the sand. Those days rocked. Occasionally, I read articles for school or for conference presentations during Wes's naptime, but usually I goofed off.

Late afternoon one day we drove to the easternmost point of the island, at least the easternmost that could be reached by car. We parked and strolled to the east end, walking along the beach. I wanted to see it because I remembered visiting the easternmost as a kid before the state park existed. We walked a ways and finally got there, enjoying the view, trying to see a bit of Dog Island, rounding the corner to the bay side. (Hmm, I'm really way too fond of participial phrases, I see.)

After we rested, we headed back towards our car, a long hike, perhaps forty-five minutes. Shortly into the walk, we noticed a shark swimming beside us. We disagree about how big the shark was. Wes says three to four feet. I thought it was closer to five, but that's because it was close to me and because water makes things look bigger anyway.

The shark glided through the shallow water, right where the waves were breaking near shore. By this point, it was close to 6:30 or 7:00 p.m. The sun threatened to sink, but lingered.

The shark fascinated me, but sharks always have. As a girl I wanted to be a marine biologist, mostly so that I could work at Sea World and play with the dolphins and killer whales. Then, I learned that I needed to be much better at science, and that dream eventually faded.

I watched every shark special on television--movies and documentaries. I've probably seen Jaws more than a dozen times. "We're gonna need a bigger boat"--one of my favorite movie lines. I dreamed of learning to scuba dive and going into a shark cage to see great whites. I still want to do that one day. I have gone snorkeling with big nurse sharks in Belize, sharks bigger than I am.

There's no big story here; we just walked beside the shark all the way back to the parking lot, speeding up as he did, slowing down to match his pace. We assumed he was feeding, but we never saw the fish. Perhaps they sensed his presence and fled. It felt like a spiritual moment to me; it reminded me of that famous quotation from The Color Purple, where Shug says, "I think it pisses God off if you don't notice the color purple in the field" (very rough guess). I noticed the shark. I felt privileged to witness its movement in its natural environment.

I'm reaching to describe that moment. It teases me by moving slightly out of my range; someday I'll return to this moment and try to capture it, but I'm not sure what genre: essay, memoir, poem? No matter. I have the moment, the experience. Eventually, I'll have the text.