Henry David Thoreau once said that “it’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.” As someone who spent a lot of time in nature, I imagine he saw a lot of meaning in the natural world around him.
As I’m writing this, just over 12 hours since my grandpa passed away, I can’t help but reflect on the meanings I’ve found in nature since spending more time with her these past few years.
About 2 and half years ago, I got the call from my parents that my grandma had passed away. It was kind of sudden, though her health had been declining, and she was the first grandparent that had passed away in my life, so I was understandably upset. My husband and in-laws planned a day on the water the next day to help me get my mind off of things.
It started as soon as the sun started coming up, with the flash of a fin over the surface of the water or a playful pfffft of a dolphin’s blowhole. We saw a couple of them on the way to our first fishing spot, and it cautiously lifted my spirits.
All I had wanted since we moved here was to see dolphins in the wild, and everyone in the family had assured me they were pretty common out in the Laguna. We had certainly seen a handful in the two years we had lived in Corpus, but they were uncommon inshore.
Despite the salty air running through my hair and the sun gently warming my skin, I couldn’t help the sadness that seemed to creep in the moment I let my guard down. Suddenly, three or four dolphins started moving towards us, the sun glittering on their smooth backs as they surfaced. As cool as it is to be around them, they’re not great for fishing, so we packed up for the next stop.
Every time we moved, we saw entire pods of them playing and leaping inshore. They were on both sides of the Intercoastal Waterway chasing fish and sparkling in the sun. As it dawned on us just how many dolphins we were seeing, we finally found a spot clear of them to try to catch some fish.
Immediately, a bunch of seagulls swarmed our boat. If you haven’t fished with seagulls, all you need to know is that the only thing worse than them picking your bait right out of the water is actually hooking into one (done it before, not a good time!).
Just when we were ready to pack it up again, an enormous bird swept through the seagulls and started chasing them off. Its graceful wide wingspan dwarfed them in the air and it deftly sailed between them until finally, the sky was empty except for this one bird.
The bird lazily circled over us for about 30 minutes as we continued to fish and tried to determine what it could be. None of us had ever seen one in the Laguna before, this large, graceful black bird with a flash of white feathers on its head.
After some research, we determined it was a female frigatebird, a bird that’s typically found further south and on the high seas. They’re known to almost exclusively stay airborne and sail high above the water, gliding on the winds. For all the time that our family has spent in the Laguna, they had never seen one inshore, before.
Long after the bird had vanished back over the horizon, I felt a sense of peace, as though it were a sign telling me that everything was okay.
Fast forward to yesterday, as we spent our first day on the water since fall of last year. My grandpa had been in and out of the hospital, having good days and bad days, and we were just making the best of the situation. Just a couple of days ago, we had talked to my parents to find out that he had started eating and drinking water again, and he was even awake for some brief periods of time. That was around the time my mom and sister were able to go see him and spend time with him.
I was deeply focused on what I thought was a black drum toying with the shrimp under my popping cork around 9:45 in the morning, and my watch kept going off for text messages. As I started reeling in a strong swimmer, I forgot the notification entirely.
Once I got the fish in the boat, a nice 16-incher that would be perfect for dinner, the sun finally poked through the clouds. It had been a foggy, hazy morning long after sunrise, and we were grateful for some sunshine.
Pfffffft
I had bent over the side of the boat to rinse the slime off my hands and glanced around for the dolphin, but didn’t see anything. Thinking I was hearing things, I grabbed a shrimp and got back to work.
After about an hour, we determined that it was time to find a new spot and started idling away from the rock pile we had been fishing.
Suddenly there were dolphins everywhere, and entire pod of them! Splashing and leaping in the water, occasionally zipping through the waves after whatever fish hadn’t been hungry enough to bite our shrimp.
I hadn’t seen this many dolphins at once since my grandma had passed away. Court and I shared a look for a moment, and I kind of figured he was thinking it, too. That was when I reached for my phone, remembering a few messages that had come through, and my parents had texted to let me know that my grandpa was back in hospice, not eating or drinking, and deep asleep.
Despite the grave news, something in my heart still felt light, knowing that seeing the dolphins wasn’t a dark omen. It was as if they were there to tell me that everything would be okay.
Court and I talked about it once we got home, the significance of seeing the dolphins. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t bracing myself for a call that evening, but it never came.
I got the call the next morning, almost 24 hours later, that he had gone in his sleep, perfectly peaceful. Though I’m sad to have lost him, I feel like I just know that he’s finally well now, that he’s with my grandma and that they’re all okay.
To some people, they’re just dolphins. It’s just a frigatebird. The timing is a little bit extraordinary, but simply creatures doing their thing. That’s what they see.
I see the signs, though. Being closer to nature has brought me closer to my faith, and I know in my heart that it was a sign of comfort. We can all look at something and have a different interpretation of what it means. Seeing an unusual pod of dolphins in the middle of the Laguna will always bring me comfort, knowing that someone wants me to know that everything will be okay.
Jess and the Outdoors 