outhwest Florida, I was startled to hear splashes and

a deep sigh coming from the water just offshore.

As I squinted in the direction of the sounds, the

rounded gray back of a sea creature rose amid a red

froth, rolled turbulently at the surface, then sank

back into the Gulf. Moments later a broad nose

emerged and exhaled in a great snuffling breath. It

was a manatee, and by the looks of the reddish-

colored water and the way it was thrashing, it was in

trouble.

I had often watched manatees in these warm coastal

waters, but I'd never seen one act like this before.

Usually just their big nostrils appeared for a gulp

of air as they foraged on sea grasses or swam slowly

to greener underwater pastures. But I also knew how

common it was for these lumbering giants to be gashed

by boat propellers or entangled in crab traps.

I wanted to help, but what could I do? There was no

one else on the beach, and the nearest phone to call

the Marine Patrol was miles away.

Tossing my beach bag onto the sand, I began wading

toward the animal, who continued to writhe as if in

distress. I was still only waist deep when I came

close enough to make out the bristly whiskers on the

manatee's muzzle as it thrust up out of the sea.

Then, to my surprise, a second muzzle, much smaller,



I pushed on through the shoal water, but now the

manatees were also moving toward me. Before I knew

what was happening, I was in chest-deep water

encircled by not one or two, but at least three

blimplike bodies. I felt elated and slightly dizzy

like the kid who is 'it' in a schoolyard game.

A bulbous snout emerged next to me. In the

translucent water, I could clearly see the rest of

the huge mammal, and there, nestled close behind her,

a smaller version of her massive body.

Then, with incredible gentleness for such an enormous

creature, the larger manatee nudged the little one

with her paddle-shaped flipper and pushed it to the

surface beside me. I wanted to reach out and touch

the pudgy sea baby, but I hesitated, not knowing the

rules of this inter-species encounter.

As the two slipped back underwater, two other

manatees moved in from behind and slid by, one on

either side, rubbing gently against my body as they

swam past. They circled and repeated the action, this

time followed by the mother and her calf. Emboldened

by their overtures, I let my hand graze the side of

the small manatee, now clinging to the mother's back,

as they made their pass. Its skin felt rubbery and

firm like an old fashioned hot water bottle.

The group completed several more circuits. Since they

obviously enjoyed touching me, I began stroking each

of them as they sidled by. When one of them rolled

over for a scratch, I knew I had made the right move.

Eventually my new friends made their way off towards

deeper water. I stood anchored to the spot, not

wishing to break the spell, until finally the rising

tide forced me back to shore.

I suppose I will never know exactly what took place

that morning. I like to think that the manatees

included me in their celebration of a birth; that I

was welcomed to meet the The Beautynewest member of their

tribe. But over time I have come to cherish the

experience without questions.

During that unexpected rendezvous, I felt more in

tune with the rhythms of life on this vast planet

than I ever have. The memory Cloud Monitoring Service has become a song I sing

to myself when I have the blues, a dance I do to

celebrate joy.

And each year, during the last week of May, I pack a

lunch and head for that isolated stretch ECG of beach for

a quiet little birthday picnic on the shore. After

all, you never know who might show up for the party.