One Lion Leaping

I walked the wharf this morning. It’s not even a mile out, but it took me over an hour because there was such a show to watch. The water is so thick with fish and animals that I can’t imagine how a person could ever go swimming here. The anchovies alone look like they could hold you up if you fell in. I could see them today, a mass flickering below me in the water. The man in the Extras could see them too, and pulled up several nets worth. It’s a terrible thing to see him empty that net into a big bucket; the fish flop and shudder and some manage to jump out on the pavement, which is a bad idea. The load he has there is just about what one man can pull up from the sea; I don’t know how many pounds, but he was at the limit of his strength.

The sea lions are barking and leaping. It’s tempting to say they are playing, spinning in the water just for fun, jumping as high as possible just because. The animals on the wharf must have parked themselves when the tide was higher, as the young energetic newcomers couldn’t quite make it up there, even with their spectacular athleticism. It was all leaping and flying and rolling in the water—it looked like joy itself had come to town.