The Allure of Fish

      I've had enough of Admiral Horatio Nelson, naval man extraordinaire. But Dan has promised Theo we will see more. Leaving Shirley Heights, we journey down to where the harbor sits, to the town that was built to provide for the needs of the military that were stationed there. 

        Today, the town's been revitalized to serve a more modern purpose--stores for shopping and restaurants for eating. But, if you can ignore the hustling and bustling tourists, you can glimpse a world that existed 200 years ago. And, maybe, see some fish.

      "Imagine," Dan says to Theo, "that you were a cat 200 years ago. No cat food from cans. No such thing as Fancy Feast or Science Diet."

       Theo frowns. He doesn't like imagining that scenario. 

       "But there would have been a lot of fish," I reassure him. 

        Theo loves fish--any kind of fish (tuna, scallops, shrimp, white fish), and so he becomes an enthusiastic participant. The tour begins with a stop at a small two story building with light blue shutters. It is on the way to the water, where the fish and boats are. I'm excited. I like boats. Theo, of course, likes fish.

         "This store sells fish," I announce. 

          Theo thinks I mean real fish, the kind you can eat.  So he is raring to go inside and feast. Unfortunately for him, the fish inside this store are beautifully carved wooden fish, like the ones attached to the front of the building.

 

         Strike One--but still undeterred, Theo marches on. 

         We pass a brick building, which in years past housed the master shipwright, the guy who made all the repairs to the ships in the harbor. He was a highly skilled laborer. 

         Theo asks, "Are there any fish inside?" 

       Strike Two--and Theo cat walks a little slower.

          We pass the Joiner's Loft and Boathouse--which both housed the joiners and gave them a place to work. 

         

        Dan explains, "A joiner is like a carpenter, but a carpenter builds things out of wood and a joiner's main job is to connect wooden pieces without using fasteners, nails, screws or glue. They seamlessly join pieces together using the groove cuts they make. Nowadays," he adds, "a joiner is like a framer."

        Theo listens, squinches up his face, and says only one word, "Fish." Sadly I shake my head. "Not yet. But soon."

         We then move to a beautiful white clapboard house with light blue shutters. Two stories. This is where the naval captain lived with his clerk. It was one of the last homes to be built here in town.

       

         We come to the Copper and Lumber Store, a massive warehouse building with three foot thick walls, which stored copper sheets used to cover vessel hulls. An inner courtyard is open and provides ventilation to the wood stored. The seamen who worked  there slept in the upper story in hammocks. Before Theo has a chance to ask, I tell him, "No fish."

        

       

       The problem is you can smell the salt water and fish. Even I can smell it. Theo is sniffing the air, gazing in the direction of the harbor. 

        I whisper to Dan, "Keep an eye on him. He smells the fish. I think he's going to make a run for it."

       Finally, we are standing in front of the Officer's Quarters, where Royal Naval Officers who were waiting for repairs to their ships were housed. Interestingly, on the ground floor, there were twelve large cisterns holding a total of 240,000 gallons of water, which was collected from the roof. 

       Theo doesn't care. If the cisterns held fish, that might be a different story. But water? He can hardly keep his attention on the building in front of him. 

  

         

         

           

       We try to distract him by pointing out the cannon that is sitting a few feet in front of us. 

      

       We turn to head back, but Theo refuses to move. 

       "What do you think--I can conjure up fish with a magic spell?"

       When Theo wants something, he can let loose the most plaintive, sorrowful cry. It breaks your heart and compels you to do the impossible. 

        "All right. We'll see what we can do."

         He doesn't move.

         "We'll go down to the harbor right now," Dan says.

         Theo's ears perk up, and then he follows his nose. We have to half run to keep up with him. 

         "We're in big trouble," Dan says. "He's going to be expecting fish."

          Let's just say I'm smarter than the average bear. I smile.

          We reach the harbor area and Theo has stopped. We catch up to him.

          For once I'm prepared. I pull out a can of tuna with one of those pull off tops. 

          "Wow. I'm impressed," Dan says. "You outdid yourself this time."

            "Yeah, I figured tuna might come in handy. Or we'd be stuck down at the pier fishing."

            Anything for the gangster cat!

Rascal Chuck and the Peacocks

     The Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ  is known world wide for beautiful sculptures placed here, there and everywhere in a magnificent landscape. 

    Somehow Chuck discovered that nestled among the sculptures were peacocks. Loads of peacocks living there. He wanted to see them. And he had tons of questions about them. 

    So as we wandered throughout the grounds, it was clear from the start that Chuck had a mission. Find the peacocks.

    We'd been to the zoo before and to spot a peacock in all their splendor is exciting. But imagine a magical place where everywhere you look, you see another one.  And you can sniff another one.

    Peacocks are amazing to watch. Someone whistled and we watched as the peacock looked up and all around. What is that sound? 

    

    Chucky wanted to know--what do peacocks eat? 

    In front of us, to our amazement, a peacock was munching on an apple. They also eat beans, peas, leafy greens, berries and other kinds of fruit.

    Chucky wanted to know--why do some peacocks have super long bridal veil like feather tails and others don't? Well, the peacocks are the boys and the peahens, which are smaller and mostly brown and white are the girls. The boys are so beautiful in order to attract the girls during mating season. Together they produce peachicks. 

    Chucky wanted to know--how many feathers are on that tail anyway? About 200 or so. 

    Chucky wanted to know--how long do they live? In the wild, between 10 and 15 years, but in captivity they can live up to 50 years. 

     Chucky wanted to know if peacocks can fly? Like Superman. Yes, but not long distances. Still, it's amazing to see them move  through the air. 

    Of course, what Chucky really wanted to do, was dying to do, was get close enough to sniff a peacock. Cats and dogs alike learn so much from their environment from their sense of smell. But, as you would have guessed, as Chucky angled closer and closer, the peacock shifted away. 

    Mr. Peacock was no dummy. 

    Chucky did not give up and was about to try again when something happened. I'm not quite sure what occurred, but someone startled one of the peacocks. Peacock #1 let out a shrill call that sounded like a high pitched HELP. Peacock #2 repeated that same high pitched HELP. The air around the peacocks vibrated with the sound. Scientists say that humans can only hear a fraction of the sound that peacocks make. 

    It was a bit unworldly. 

    Chucky jumped back. I'm assuming he heard more than I did. And whatever he heard, it was enough. He was warned. Keep your distance, buddy.  And the Rascal cat did. To live another day and have another adventure.

Rascal Chuck's Favorite Snake

    I am no fan of snakes. When I was a kid, a snake slid over my foot in my girlfriend Donna's backyard. I screamed for an hour. When I was a principal, I was forced to stand still while a boa constrictor was wrapped around my neck during a snake presentation for fifth graders. And be brave about it. 

    Chuck, my rascal cat, feels the exact opposite. He loves snakes. He finds them fascinating. When we visit the Philadelphia Zoo recently and discover the Rare Animal Conservation Center is open (finally), Chucky clamors to see the snakes. 

    "What for?" I want to know. They are enclosed behind glass. Some of them are poisonous. Or they can kill you by constricting the air out of your body. "Don't go in there if all you want to do is free the snakes, Chuck."

    But he just wants to see them. Admire them. "And, mom, take some photos so humans can appreciate them," he meows.

    Dan is the one who suggests asking our readers to make a decision. "We can showcase five snakes and let everyone decide which snake they think is the best."

    "The creepiest," I say.

    "The best example of snakiness," is Chucky's vision.

    So in we go. The Conservation Center is necessarily dark. Exhibits flank either side. The place is crowded with moms and dads and lots of kids. Everyone has their camera. Several kids want to adopt a snake they see and take them home. Their parents laugh. No way. Chucky thinks the parents have a poor attitude.

    We trudge along. 

    Exhibit #1 is the Northern Water Snake which lives in central North America. This snake is unique because the baby eggs stay inside the mom until they are ready to hatch. When the babies are born, they come out as little snakelets, much like human babies. No eggs here. The only difference is the snakelets are completely independent of their moms. And, they're snakes, of course.

    Chucky wants to see a snakelet. Wriggling around. Unfortunately, the snake on display is full grown and stares right at him. 

       Exhibit #2 is the Timber rattlesnake which lives in the NE United States. These snakes are venomous and like to hibernate in deep crevices in rocks. They return year after year to the same place, which makes them an easy target for destruction! Today they are in danger of extinction, which is sad. I'm trying to have sympathy for them. I hate to see any creature get obliterated from the earth, even if it is a snake.

    If there was no glass separating this snake from us, the innocents observers, Chucky would have jumped right in. 

    "I want to sniff him," he meows. 

    "Not today."

    Exhibit #3 is the West African Gaboon Viper. It grows six feet long and six inches in diameter. Despite their size, the pattern on their skin and shape of their head allows them to hide on the floor of a forest and ambush small mammals and birds. Well, that sounds terrible to me. These are BIG snakes. You would not want to casually come upon one of these giants in the forest. No way.

    That's my humble opinion. Not Chuck's. 

    I try to explain. "Chuck, you're considered a small mammal. This snake could eat you. Gulp. You're history."

    Chucky shrugs. He'll take his chances.

    Exhibit #4 is the Pueblan Milk Snake found in central Mexico. It is a beautiful snake--look at that pattern on its skin. And it looks nearly identical to another snake that is venomous. The Pueblan Milk snake is not poisonous. It's fake look helps protect it against predators. Pretty cool.

    We stay at this exhibit a long time. Chuck is fascinated watching this snake writher around. There are signs all over asking us not to bang against the glass. Chucky, of course, ignores those signs. He bangs away. 

    Exhibit #5 is the Green Anaconda. This snake is one of the largest predators in South America. They eat waterfowl and reptiles and can even snatch a monkey from a branch that happens to be hanging over the water. (That part about the monkey really freaked me out.) This photo does not do this snake justice. It is enormous. But it is a bit heartwarming to see two of them cuddled together. Yeah, even in the snake world, there is love.

    

     At the end of our snake experience, I ask Chuck one more time, "Did you really like seeing all those snakes?"

    He tilted his whiskered face as if to say--Are you crazy--Of course. I liked seeing them slither and slide along the ground. I liked their faces.  

    Meow. Meow.

    Stay tuned next week to find out which snake was Chucky's favorite.  And if you have a favorite, leave a comment and let us know!!!

   

Chuck Sleeps with General Grant

    California is a hard state to leave when you're on vacation!

    We were still obsessed--or rather I was still obsessed--with the giant sequoia and redwood trees. Seeing them. Breathing them in. We decided to pay a visit to Kings Canyon National Park and see one more famous giant sequoia. If you remember the General Sherman tree, this next tree was second only to that tree in trunk size. This Tree #2 on the Hit Parade of BIG TREES was estimated to be 1700 years old (can you imagine?) and was named after the great Civil War general and president Ulysses S. Grant.

   I know what you're thinking.

    Rascal Chuck did not have a good track record with giant sequoias. But he'd learned his lesson when he'd gotten stuck on the spongy bark of General Sherman. I was convinced Chuck could look and not climb the great General Grant.

    Plus, we had a ways to go before we reached General Grant and that journey involved a lot of walking. I was hoping the exercize would tire Chucky out. He would lose some of his rambunctiousness! Fingers crossed. 

    We first had to hike through glorious country to reach Roaring River Falls. The weather was in the low seventies. Despite the fires that were raging in parts of Yosemite National Park, up here in the Sierra Mountains the air was crisp and clear and there were no signs of smoke. 

    We traced the falls as they cascaded and broke along the rocks and wound along the river bed. Pure heaven. Maybe, for the first time, I understood, a cat's need to sniff. It's their way of interacting with nature. Here, near Roaring River Falls, you could taste the sweetness when you pulled that refreshing mountain air into your lungs.

    

    The riverbed water eventually dropped forty feet to a pool below, comprised almost completely of snowmelt from the mountains that ran through the canyons.  

   

    We then passed Kings River and the surrounding granite cliffs including two of the most famous. The first was named Grand Sentinel, and it measured 8,518 feet high. 

    

    The second equally famous structure was North Dome measured 8,717 feet high. 

     None of what we saw in the distance was of any interest to Chucky. He was focused on the trail that we walked and on the trees that surrounded us as we headed back to see General Grant. If he couldn't sniff it, he didn't want to know about it. 

    Finally, we reached out destination. There General Grant stood in all its glory in a fenced-in area, of course, so visitors won't stomp too close or touch the wonderful spongy bark (which makes these sequoias so impervious to insect attack or fire, but gives them that other world appeal). 

    

       I glanced down at Chuck, who was acting like a model cat. For the moment. I pointed to the fence. "Forbidden zone. Remember what happened the last time." 

    But was he even listening? Chucky has this annoying habit of looking directly at you as if he's hearing every word you're saying, but he's not really listening at all. 

    One of my all time favorite movies is Meet the Parents. Instantly I became the Robert De Niro character Jack in my favorite scene where he tries to intimidate his future son-in-law Ben Stiller. De Niro takes his two forefingers, points them at his eyes and then points them directly at Stiller. In other words--I'm watching YOU. I imitated that gesture to Chucky. He bounced back a little. 

      Satisfied I'd made my point, we took the wonderful boardwalk-like trail that went around the tree to the back. It was less crowded. Our guide was telling us about General Grant--the tree. 

    President Eisenhower declared it to be a National Shrine in 1956. It was dedicated to the men and women of the Armed Forces who fought and died to keep America free. General Grant is also called the Nation's Christmas Tree. 

    That piece of information--imagining this tree being decorated with bulbs and lights and tinsel--made me think about Chuck. One of his favorite places at Christmas is under our Christmas tree at home . . . Chuck. I looked down. No Chuck. 

    In the background I heard Dan ask when this magnificent tree was first called General Grant.

    "1867."

    I tugged on Dan's sleeve. "Chuck. Do you see him anywhere?"

    He shook his head.

    "Not again."

    Our guide and all the visitors were further ahead now. We stopped. "Chuck has to be here somewhere."

    We craned our necks upwards, both anticipating and dreading the inevitable--that Chuck, once again, was making an attempt to climb a giant sequoia. 

    We were dead wrong.

    It was only when we looked down that we spotted him--snoozing peacefully at the truck of General Grant. 

    

    Dan rescued Chuck from the forbidden zone. The poor kid, I thought. All that hiking and sightseeing had worn him plum out! Boy, could I sympathize. It was the end of a long day. 

    As we returned to our hotel that night, I thought about the day's events and wondered what I could have done differently. One thing for sure. I had to work on my Robert DeNiro I'm watching YOU impression. 

Chuck and the Seagull

           When you're a Jersey girl, it is part of your DNA that demands you spend a certain amount of time each year at the Jersey shore. No if, ands, or buts. The sandy beach call you to its shores. You long to see the seagulls,  even if they will swoop down and try to steal your lunch. There is nothing more refreshing than the sea breeze blowing through your soul. 

       We are all romantics in our own way.

       I have to admit it was my idea that Saturday to take the almost two hour ride to Island Beach State Park. Although not as popular as Seaside Heights with its boardwalk and social scene, IBSP boasts ten miles of sandy beach, rolling sand dunes and tidal marshes near Barnegat Bay. It was October and cloudy. 

       But I believe in magic--that once we arrived, the sun would come out. It would be warmer, and despite dire predictions of icky weather, we would have a lovely day. 

       Chuck, the rascal cat, of course, agreed. He is always up for an adventure. And if food is involved--he heard us talking about lunch and watched as we packed our turkey sandwiches (he loves turkey)--he can't resist coming along for the ride.

        As always, I extracted a promise. "You will be good, right?"

        "Mom, of course. What mischief can I possibly get up to at the beach?" (I don't have enough fingers to count the ways.)

         Nevertheless, we packed and were ready to go in no time: cut offs, jackets, sneakers, blankets, food and Sirius XM radio to keep us entertained as we drove to the Jersey shore.

           Full disclosure. There were things we did not anticipate:

            The weather did not improve. It was windy. Very windy. Cold. But that did not deter us. We arrived at Island Beach State Park--no one else was in sight. We drove in and kept on going down the long, straight road that leads to the ocean. Parked the car. Got our gear. Maneuvered Chuck into a backpack so we could move more quickly toward the beach. (At least it wasn't raining.)

        

     The sandy path to the beach was very long. We were carrying a lot of gear. A lot of food. And blankets. And Chuck. About half way there we almost gave up. Where is the beach?? The water? It's hard to walk in the sand, carrying things, in sneakers. 

            The day was very windy. Imagine the kind of scene you see on TV when you're watching a hurricane make landfall. Through teary eyes--windy--we put our bright red blanket down, and it blew away. Everything we put down blew away. Chuck almost blew away. He started complaining. Meowing. 

             "He's just hungry." I put some food down, but you guessed it, it blew away. It took us awhile to get settled. To anchor the blanket with our bags and sit down. Geez. It wasn't supposed to be this hard.

             Chuck disappeared. I shouldn't have been surprised. Something always happens with Chuck. You take your eyes off of him for one moment and . . . 

              "There he is," Dan said. 

              Chuck was chasing a seagull who was racing toward the ocean. With Chuck's food. Who would have believed that at the very moment when Chuck had stopped meowing and was eating, that a seagull would swoop down and grab the turkey piece, practically right out of our fearless hero's mouth . . . 

                At first Chuck was stunned. But, boy, that kid can run. When he's motivated. And he wasn't bothered by wet sand or the ever increasing blowing wind. He was running for justice. To retrieve what was rightfully his.

              Dan leaped up. "I'll get him."

          Luckily, Chuck did not blindly follow the seagull into the water. He stopped on the edge where the waves were washing up on the sand and stood there, no doubt cursing his bad luck. Dan scooped him up and brought him back.

              "I'm warning you," I said, wanting to shake the living daylights out of him.

              "You saw what happened," he meowed back defiantly.

              "Sometimes you have to let things go, Chucky."

               But he was already on the blanket, grooming himself, self-soothing is what the vet calls it. 

              The ocean was beautiful. We are not complete blockheads. Finally, after the Chuck and seagull episode, we managed to hold our sandwiches and gaze out at the ocean. We hadn't seen the Jersey shore in awhile. Watching the waves roll in and out--priceless. 

              Later, we packed up, took a long walk away from the water, where it was less windy. And actually had a good time. On the way home, in Chuck's version of events, he managed to wrestle his turkey back from the seagull. Always the hero, my rascal Chuck!

STAY TUNED FOR MORE ADVENTURES WITH CHUCK.  PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT. CHUCK WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU. JUST CLICK ON "NO COMMENTS." IT'S EASY.