Shark Tale

Spring Break time we escaped the frozen tundra of Indiana and we took the boyz to Captiva Island, Florida for a week of lounging on the beach. Scratch that. For a week of digging, kite flying, football throwing, swimming, sand throwing, sand castle construction, sand castle destruction, and a few moments of rest while they slept.  

We had great weather except one day, where we had one full day of torrential downpour and the ocean looked as gray as the sky and the screen porch was soaked from the sideways rain that was blasting through the Southern Hemisphere of Florida.  Kiefer actually said that was his favorite day. It topped the surprise trip on the front end of the trip where we surprised them and took them to NASA to tour Cape Canaveral and get up close with the Space Shuttle Atlantis, the Lunar Module of Apollo 13 and met a real live astronaut who was born and raised in Indiana and went to school at Purdue. He even liked the rainy day better than the surprise day trip to Disney that we carved into our last day of the trip where we were at the park when Mickey declared it open with a parade and stayed till the last firework glittered above the Magic Kingdom. Know why he liked it the best over all that?!?  Because we let them watch movies ALL day long! What else do you do with four boys 9 and under in a two bedroom condo with a glass top kitchen table and nothing else to do?  

Fortunately, that was the only day of rain. (Although a doozy!)  But the next day, an amazing thing had happened on the beach.  The violent wind and storm had churned the ocean and had deposited the until now buried treasure onto the beach for little hands to find. I’ve never seen so many shells in one place in my life! Each one was unique and a delicate creation hand made by the Great Artist. In addition, the large amounts of rain had carved a causeway into the beach and there were new tide pools at every twist and turn that were not there the day before. The boyz had a grand time swimming in the tiny tide pools, riding their rafts between the channels, splashing and finding countless shells and other treasures newly underfoot.

The other change the storm seemed to blow in was a new interest in fishing for all those who had a fishing pole. Perhaps the stormy waters disoriented the local fish and they were thrust into new waters where they couldn’t navigate their way back home again? 

The family that had been sitting next to us on the beach all week resurfaced after the storm, fishing poles in hand.  They were natives of Atlanta and had driven down and came prepared.  They had children close in age to ours and the kids had been enjoying playing together all week.  When their son pulled out the sea worthy fishing pole and live bait of shrimp, our boyz were all over him like flies on a rib roast!  He hardly had a chance to cast when he was generously handing off his line for each Jay boy to have a turn. It was incredibly kind of him! And their Dad was obviously an experienced sea fisherman and he happily lent a helping hand.  It seemed benign enough and they seemed genuine in their willingness to share. Then, during Carter’s watch, came a gentle tug on the line…. followed by a big pull that nearly drug him into the ocean with it!  “Oh, how they tug and pull!” as my grandfather, Papa Russell, an Indiana fisherman, used to always say.  Carter fought hard to gain control and drag whatever was fighting against him up to shore and out of the water.  It took all his might, and the help of a net to bring in his catch.

We all stood amazed that he had caught a baby shark!!!  A bottlehead shark, according to the owners of the fishing equipment (and donors of the live bait!).  We were all amazed!  And I was even more shocked of the instant crowd the catch brought. It seems all of a sudden the paparrazi appeared and everyone was taking pictures on their cell phones of his catch. He was an instant celebrity!  To sustain the shark’s life the other Dad put the baby shark in one of the near by tide pools before throwing him back into the big pond a few minutes later. 

In the meantime, witnessing all of this, stood our 5 year old, cautious Griffin. My natural worrier.  Daddy-O and I watched as he kept his distance, taking it all in and calculating in his mind.  Without a moment’s delay, he took off his life jacket and threw it on the ground and walked away from the ocean with a silent declaration as if saying “If that creature came out of there, I’m not going back in there again – and you can’t make me!”

Funny thing is, after that catch, I never stepped in the ocean again either! (Guess he gets it honestly!?)