MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

Where did it come from?

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We have always enjoyed our fishing excursions. Being avid anglers, my husband and I spend as much time as possible in our boat holding our beloved rods and reels while waiting for a fish to grab our bait and try to run away with it.

Often, we practice the “catch and release” method, meaning that we’ll take a photo of our catch, then gently place the fish back in the water so it will live to swim another day (or hopefully more than just one).

Do we like to eat fish? Yes, we do, but, unlike other anglers we know, we are very particular about the fish we decide to keep. We won’t keep any that might be a bit undersized, preferring to allow the fish to have the chance to grow and spawn. The theory of “the younger the fish, the more tender it is” isn’t true. The better tasting fish are the ones who have been “around the block a time or two.” The older ones also aren’t capable of spawning. Just like us humans, the males of their species have their “time limitations.”

Yet, as I said, we know many people that will catch, keep, and devour whatever they can reel in. I will never frown on those people. This is what they like to do, and I say: so be it. It’s just that my husband and I think differently, and that’s all there is to it.

There are many times when, even after spending hours on the water, the fish just weren’t biting, and we’d head for home without any photos for our albums (or dinner for our table). However, we rarely feel dejected by the lack of nibbling fish. Just being on the water in the fresh air is relaxing enough to make our move to Florida worthwhile. It also has its own rewards.

During the times we’ve spent on our boat, we’ve seen so many incredible and wonderous things. Most of what we saw, we know had been seen by others but being born within the city limits of New York, we witnessed the part of nature we’d only seen on TV. Now, here we are seeing all these amazing things with our own eyes. It’s incredible.

There was the time when a pod of dolphins was swimming toward a small school of ladyfish to feed. We’d seen many a lone dolphin swimming in the harbor, but this was a first for us. We watched in awe as they circled and surrounded the smaller fish, then raced to close their circle and fill their bellies.

Another time, we saw the mating ritual of sting rays. What a beautiful and graceful display of marine life in their dance of reproduction.

We’ve seen sharks take advantage of fish that were being reeled in. The sharks had no problem in their hunting for food. They swam ferociously toward the helpless fish and viciously bit it in half. Well, that’s nature.

More times than I can count, dolphins were seen jumping in and out of the water as they followed our boat as we motored to or from our favorite fishing spot. Our first thoughts: play time!

I guess I could go on and on hoping to intrigue you with my tales of what lies beneath the waves but there is one thing we’ve seen that I’m sure not many people had the fortune to espy.

It was a beautiful, sunny, late Sunday morning and we slowed our boat knowing our destination was just around the next bend of the mangroves. The water was extremely calm, and I remarked how it looked like a large mirror with the sun and the few white puffs of clouds reflecting on it. What a beautiful sight!

Before heading for the shallow water of the harbor, my husband spotted something unfamiliar in the water.

“Hon, can you see that? Any idea what it is?” he asked.

“I see it but can’t make it out. Slow down a bit more and I’ll get the binoculars.”

Reaching in the duffle bag, I grabbed the case and pulled out the binoculars. After raising them to my eyes, I said, “Hon, it looks like a bottle. I wish people wouldn’t be so careless when they’re out here. We certainly don’t need more pollution. Hey, wait a minute!”

As my husband slowed the boat, I commented, “That bottle isn’t quite empty. It looks there’s a piece of paper in it. Let’s grab it. Hand me the net.”

He steered the boat closer and I leaned over the side of our little twenty-foot skiff, stretched my arm out, and with the length of the net’s handle, was able to secure the bottle inside.

After bringing it onboard, in order to keep it from slipping out of my hands, I quickly dried it using the towel my husband handed me.

He lowered our anchor and sat next to me. “Can you grab the cork, or should I get my pliers?” he asked.

“My opinion would be to use the pliers since we have no idea how long this has been in the water or how swollen the cork might be.”

As he opened his tackle box to retrieve his tools, I muttered, “This is exciting. I wonder what the note says.”

He closed the tackle box, and I handed him the bottle. “I wonder where it came from; who sent it? I also hope it’s written in English so we can read it. What if it’s in a language we don’t understand?”

I was quick to answer, “Then we go to the library and ask if they know a way we can decipher it, but let’s not put the cart before the horse. Let’s get it out first.”

He twisted and pulled the cork which made a loud squeaky noise and then we heard a small pop. Using another tool from the tackle box, he reached in the pulled the note out and handed it to me.

I unfurled it and then my husband and I read it together. He looked and me, I looked at him, and together we said, “Oh wow!”