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February 25, 2005
Slack Tide
Low tide can be highly rejuvenating if it avoids stagnation. As the waters recede, the inter-tidal zone is exposed, revealing a different perspective of the life there. The roots of the warm-green marsh emerge, crabs and snails stroll about, clams spit at your presense by clamping down tight. The marsh is a hidden realm of nutritive resource. Eggrets, herons, gulls, terns, all swoop in to steal their share aloft and spread the richness. The smell of low tide is alive with the aroma of fecundity.As the water pulls out, many of the bait-fish, worms, and crustations are swept out with the current, no longer in the luxurious security of the marsh grass. They are funneled down channels to the hungry fish lurking below. The fish feed in swirls of delight and frustration, but they stay in the deep, dark recesses of holes and larger channels. They hug the bottom and wait. Digest and wait for the return.
Areas of deep mud can get you in trouble. If you hit bottom, there is no pushing out. As the tide drops, you are stuck in seemingly higher and higher degrees. Once at dead low, the water doesn't return quickly. It reaches a gravitational equilibrium and there you are in slack tide. Stuck. At the mercy of green flies, gnats, diving birds, and all things annoying. And it seems all you can do is wait. Like a beached whale sufficating under its own weight, you wait in unrest. You could walk out through the mud, but its too much of a slog. Slack tide can last for what seems like eternity. Stagnant. Lifeless.
...And then, what you were waiting for, suddenly returns, unexpectantly. A small minnow swims back to the marsh.
(marsh Great South Bay, Long Island)
Posted by Ocean at February 25, 2005 05:17 AM