May 25 2026
A Walk to Goose Rocks
Harbor seals and mergansers fished in the shallows shortly after the sun rose over Goose Rocks Beach. I watched them with Judy and ate breakfast while waiting for low tide. When finally the water had receded enough, a long, curved arm of wet, exposed sand reached out to the wave-battered rocks a quarter mile offshore. I slipped on my boots and headed for them.
I crossed tiny rivulets cutting through the sand, slowly tramping towards the rocks. Gulls were busy feeding all around me, of course. Other, much smaller shorebirds leapt into the air in unison as I approached. With my binoculars back at the cottage, I couldn’t identify them. I stepped over a narrow channel of water and onto slick, dark rocks completely covered with periwinkles and barnacles, as well as kelp and other varieties of seaweed. Then stepping onto a pile of small, polished stones, I left the land bridge behind.
An American oystercatcher crept away as I approached the patch of white rocks that always remain above sea level. Then several terns dive-bombed me. They came close enough to make me duck. I surmised that they had nests nearby. I looked around. I didn’t find their nests, but I did stumble upon five large, light olive eggs in a nest that most likely belonged to the pair of common eiders looking on anxiously nearby. I retreated from there to another mound of white rocks not far away. There I found a few still, crystal clear tide pools no bigger than bathtubs. I knelt down for a closer look.
Tiny, barely visible crustaceans called amphipods slipped in and out of the green algae in one of those tide pools. I cupped my hand, capturing one along with a little water. Using a hand lens, I inspected it. Then I released it, hoping to find even smaller creatures. How small could I go? Would I be able to see a copepod? Probably not. Protozoa? Definitely not. But I knew they were there from the samples I took home to view under my microscope the previous year. Then I looked up, gazing at the horizon where the sea and sky meet. And in that moment, my head exploded. The ocean is too vast to comprehend on a microbial scale. Too much like trying to count grains of sand. I was beholding infinity.
On the way back to dry land, I watched an egret fishing in a large pool not far away. Then I saw something underfoot, in a much smaller pool. What is that? Something round and translucent, no bigger than a penny. I pulled out my cell phone and took a video as it undulated and revolved in the water. Later showing it to Judy, she put it before ChatGPT which told us it was a moon jellyfish. But it was too small to be that. Or was it? The ocean is full of surprises.
