HERRING RUN

It was an unseasonable 85'F here outside Boston. My somewhat uncomfortable walk in long pants down to the Charles River was rewarded by stumbling upon an annual phenomenon at the local mill dam's falls. 

Dozens of sea gulls were congregated at the mill dam. They perched on a small island below the dam. They stared at me. I stared at them. Nothing much seemed to be happening. A few clownish gulls, probably adolescents, were riding the current above the waterfall right to its edge, then flying back, then riding the current to the falls again. The other gulls seemed uninterested. They continued to stare my way like a bored jury.

I remembered the nearby fish ladder and went down the bank to its base. Sure enough, there were the instinct-driven adult fish, swimming around in crowds at the base. They were the discreet fish, making their way up stream to spawn under the cover of deeper water and a concrete structure. I ambled over to the nearby creek, a small tributary which empties into the Charles through a narrow rapids of rounded boulders. 

Here were the more frantic breeders. The adult herring (a.k.a. alewife) were splashing around amid the rocks with the occasional leap out of the water. I imagined the subsequent laying of fertilized eggs in the crannies around the many boulders midstream. And I wasn't the only one. A very calm mallard had worked his way into the stream from the river. He was alone. I watched as he explored the crevices around the rocks. Occasionally he raised his head and swallowed. Was he feasting on herring caviar? I can't say.

I was reminded of a Spring many years ago on Herring Cove Beach in Provincetown, MA. I had walked way out on the beach, away from all sunbathers and swimmers. The surf was heavy. As I reached human-free beach, the shore line began to shimmer with each receding wave. Sea gulls were careening and screaming everywhere. I saw a small fox at the water's edge quite a ways ahead, a rare sight. The shimmer consisted of thousands of newly hatched herring, pushed ashore by the heavy surf. The more agile succeeded in rolling back rapidly to the protection of the surf's undertow. The stunned and clumsy were taken as prey. 

I was happy to be reminded of all this. Our urbanized civilization has become so detached from these natural illustrations of life and death as it really is for the vast majority of creatures on our planet. My walk home in the heat made me too aware of my age. Perhaps I felt a little jealous of the thoughtless lives of serene gulls and frantic fish in rushing water on such a glorious day.