Unusual day at the beach

AN UNUSUAL DAY AT THE BEACH

Feet squeeking in the sand I follow my daughter along the beach. I had been relaxing on a towel trying to read but really just day dreaming when she came screaming at a full run,"Dad we have to help him!" What I had first taken for water on her face became tears as she drew near.

"Calm down Serry and tell me what's going on." I was using my 'everything is ok voice' and the shortenned version of her name, Serenity. Her mother had always hated it but that no longer matterred. For better or worse she had left us two years ago and we were alone against the world. I think for better.

"I can't we have to hurry come on!" So I threw my book into my bag, slung it on my back, grabbed my towel and scanned the area quickly to make sure I hadn't dropped anything. Although this took a minute or less by the time I looked up she was tearing back the way she had come, pail swinging wildly from on hand, already thirty yards ahead. I started running too but after a couple minutes I was getting winded and she was just as far away, maybe farther, and showing no signs of fatigue. To be ten again!

"Honey wait up!" but she doesn't hear over the ocean or chooses not listen. Now she aproaches the rust colorred rocks that create the southern boundery of the beach at high tide, which is just starting to recede. When it is out there is a thin strip of sand seperating the water from the twenty foot pile of boulders, just wide enough to pass through if wet feet aren't a problem. As I near the bottom of the pile, she dissapears over the top.

"Hurry" she calls from just out of site but I climb carefully, picking my route in advance. I reach the crest where I last saw her ponderring how irresponsible I must be to have let her get so far from sight and find myself alone. Moving haltingly accross the top of this uneven terrain I have time to wonder what the people in those mansions to my right might think if they happenned see me, the irresponsible dad. Then I spot her, off to the left and below, on a room-sized piece of wet sand, hidden between those rocks. Kneeling there with thhe head of a porpoise cradled in her lap. Weeping, "Please help him dad, it isn,t fair."

After working my way to them I assess the situation. A piece of thin wire or line is tangled along the length of the creature's body, trapping his tail at an odd angle. It is tight along the left side and dissapears into the snout. The animal seems calm enough, appart from the darting eyes, and is likely exhuasted. His skin shows blood red at the tail and cheek where the the line is cutting in. "It isn't fair" she sobs again. I place my back pack on a shelf of stone and open the small side pocket to retrieve two things. First my cell phone to call 911 and second a multi-tool I carry almost all the time. I was never a boy scout but i beleive in being prepared.

"Nine one one, what is your emergency?"

"My daughter found a wounded porpoise, we need to help it."

"Please hold for animal controll" a click followed by silence. I make sure the call was not lost and place the phone on the shelf of rock, tapping the little picture of a speaker. Openning the tool I approach the wounded animal from its left side. Serenity is still sobbing and whisperring to the porpoise when she can get the air. trying to comfort it.

I tell her to be ready without knowing what to be ready for. I kneel in the pasty sand, well away from the tail, and begin scissoring the small wire cutter behind the pliers against the line. It is incedibly tough or the pliers are not. After what seems like an hour a strand gives way and unwinds itself along the length of the wire. My right hand is hurting so I switch to the left and time draws out once more.

"Animal rescue" echoes from the phone.

"Help us PLEASE!" Serenity bawls into the air.

TWANG! The line is cut. The tail straightens and I can see muscle relax along the ten feet of body up to the head. The mouth sighs open and the eyes close. I scurry to the phone and take it off speaker. I explain the situation and location as best I can, and the operator promisses help is on the way, She also tells me I need to keep him wet.

Serenity is not crying any more but is also unwilling to leave the animal. So I take my towel and her pail and head down a narrow hall of rock towards the retreating ocean. There I soak the towel and fill the pail. Returning to the porpoise I drape the towel over the area between dorsal fin and blow hole. My girl looks at me with tears still filling her eyes, "Will he be ok dad?"

"I don't know honey" I empty the pail along his back, "I hope so." I make many trips with the pail, each one a little longer as the water pulls farther away. It is on one such trip upon blisterred feet that I see the boat. An inflatable with out-board motor, trolling slowly down the coast in just a few feet of water. Eight people clad in yellow wet suits that match the boat see me as I see them. I start to wave and shout "Over here!"

Thirty minutes later they are lifting the special stretcher holding our new friend as Serenity and I stand aquardly to the side. We follow them back to the water, a good distance now that the tide is low, and Serenity asks one of the rescuers "Can I go with him?"

"No dear" replies the pretty young woman, "He is being air lifted to Atlanta. They have a state of the art marine center. But you and your father probbably saved his life."

"Atlanta, that seems unusal." She says it like we do this kind of thing every day. Although she is crying again she is also smiling. That is when I hear the hellicopter aproaching and notice the crowd that has gatherred on the narrow beach. Some are taking video with their phones and they all appaud when the Coast Gaurd chopper lifts off with its precious cargo.

Some time later I find her on the couch upstairs, watching the news. The story is about a dolphin that was rescued by a little girl. "Is that your poroise?" I ask, hugging her.

She hugs me back. "Yes, but he is a dolphin and he is ok."