The Home Stretch or Things Turning Up on the Beach...last weeks on base and so much is happening, rays, beach cleans and lost herons!

Things have been turning up on the Pez Mayan beach the past few weeks. The Least Terns have settled in, constantly in flight protecting their nests of small speckled eggs. Passers by duck to avoid the swooping birds, they work together fending off larger birds of prey. Two weeks ago, just after boat push, as the first dive was kitting up, we found a dead Southern Sting Ray washed up on the beach just beyond the Sand Pit. The Mahahualians were still here, it was incredibly hot and the sand flies were brutally chewing away at our ankles leaving tiny liquid filled swells that would either disappear or turn to scars. The sting ray was larger than I expected it to be, its massive body dense and clammy, it must have washed up on shore only hours ago. We loomed over it, Tim A.K.A. Fish lifted it up and flipped it over, and we again marvelled at the details of the gills, the small mouth, the sand paper quality of the skin. A few days later walking along the beach, past the closed mouth of the lagoon, along the roped off areas protecting the tiny nests, barely before the army base, on our way to a party that never happened, in the dark walking along the beach, Lizzy almost put her foot through a half buried mildly decomposed Southern Sting Ray carcass.

A few days later… It was around 6:15am when we found him. Lying on his side, head cocked awkwardly on the ground, his eyes alertly followed our every move. His body convulsed as he tried to move from the wet sand dividing the sea and the shore, even more so when Jaen grasped under the little heron's wings, delicately extending one at a time, examining for the slightest abnormality. All we found was a thumbtack sized wound hidden on the back of his neck. Rocco has made it to day 6 so far surpassing all odds, living in a small box lined with old clothes outside Jaen's hut, fed early in the morning with fish or crab shake through a plastic syringe.

While doing one of the dives we found a tailless fish. It was clear, the fish had no tail. Standing in less than a foot of water, weighed down with dive gear, we watched as the fish unsuccessfully struggled on its side to make it back out to deeper water. Urgency, panic and fear gleamed unmistakably in its eyes as the torn silver body fought its way out to sea. After minutes of watching the ever losing battle, we handed our gear up to the captain. Mike saved the Permit from its suffering, as we later found upon returning to base later in the afternoon.

Stand by 67

The Home Stretch or Things Turning Up on the Beach...last weeks on base and so much is happening, rays, beach cleans and lost herons!