You Can’t Fool Mother Nature

by Beth Tally

On every boat, at least relatively new ones, there is a sign posted in some prominent place that sets out the regimen for disposing of trash on the water. On “Up Jinks,” it’s right in the middle of the steps leading up the companionway hatch. We see it every time we head up from the salon to the cockpit.

To give a sense of the how seriously trash is taken, I’ll quote directly from our sign.

“Catalina Yachts reminds you that it is illegal for any vessel to dump plastic trash anywhere in the ocean or navigable waters of the United States. Annex V of the Marpol Treaty is an international law for a cleaner, safer marine environment. Violation of these requirements may result in civil penalty up to $25,000 fine and imprisonment.”

Then it goes on to further instruct:

“It is illegal to dump the following –

U.S Lakes, rivers, bays, sounds and 3 miles from shore – plastics, paper, rags, glass, food, garbage, metal, crockery, and dunnage.

3 – 12 miles – plastic, dunnage, linning and packing, materials that float. Also, if not ground to less than one inch – paper, rags glass, crockery, metal and food.”

It continues on, but I think you get my drift. And, please, don’t ask me what dunnage and linning are!

Like every good first mate, I’ve fudged a little on the food requirement. After all, what could possibly be the harm in a few old coffee grounds, left over broccoli spears and some uneaten couscous going overboard in the cover of darkness? Especially when you’re anchored out or actually sailing. Who’s to know but the fish, right?

One day, we were docked at Marina Paraiso in Isla Mujeres, Mexico. The definition of “marina” varies from place to place. In Isla Mujeres it’s basically some “stubbly sticks” (as one of our British friends so aptly described) to mark the slips with a dock running perpendicular. Regardless of its appearance, I was delighted to be at Marina Paraiso. We had been “on the hook” for a month and it was nice to be able to leave the boat by just stepping off.

It was supposed to be a lovely evening, relatively free of wind. We could take advantage and cook dinner on the grill. I had purchased some really nice looking New York strip steaks a couple of days before at the “super mercado.” Their only deficiency was large swaths of fat running down the sides. Not to worry. I could cut most of the fat off and leave enough to make for good grilling. Taking a knife from my utility drawer, I carefully began slicing the fat from the meat. There were four steaks. By the time I finished, I had filled a cereal bowl with the slivers.

As luck would have it, John had just taken the garbage up to the trashcan at the marina office. I debated about putting the fat in the newly deployed trash bag, but decided that I didn’t want to have it rotting in the can over the next few days until we filled it again. Briefly, I considered putting it in a small bag and walking it up to the marina, but that was way more effort than the situation called for. So, I determined that the best thing to do would be break the Marpol Treaty and dump the fat overboard. We were at the end of the face dock with our stern pointing out to the harbor away from the marina. Nobody was across the dock from us. It would be a totally undetected transgression.

I proceeded to cut the fat into smaller pieces to make it easier for the fish to eat once I dumped it in the water. Shielding sight of my contraband with my hand, I came up the companionway steps into the cockpit. John had just left in the dinghy to go get some gasoline. This left the stern totally vacant. I stepped down onto the landing just above water’s edge and carefully scraped the chunks of fat out of the bowl.

To my surprise and horror, they floated, looking like square white bobbers bouncing on top of the water. There was no current or any other force to move them away from “Up Jinks,” making it obvious that they had to have come from her. I watched in relative horror wanting to shoo them away. Then, it started. First, there was one loud squawk announcing that a seagull had spotted the fat. His call alerted several other seagulls and they came swiftly to the stern of the boat. In no time, they were frenetically plunging into the water, one after the other, scrambling for the white morsels. Their screaming caused quite a ruckus right off the end of the dock, so much so that it caught the attention of the frigate birds soaring high above the harbor.

Frigate birds are huge with wingspans of as much as eight feet. They feed off of small fish in the water, but because they don’t have any oil in their feathers, they can’t actually dive for their food. Instead, they use their superior size and strength to wrest food from smaller birds – like seagulls. Thus, the name “Frigate” after pirates who commandeered treasures off of other boats. Within minutes, there must have been a hundred birds swarming at the back of the boat, dive bombing for the pieces of fat or whichever bird held one in his beak.

For all intents and purposes, “Up Jinks” could have been a shrimp boat with its following cast of thousands. Indeed, it was a scene reminiscent of “The Birds.” I honestly expected Alfred Hitchcock to stroll down the dock.

After making one cursory survey to see if anybody was watching, I guiltily slunk back down the companionway hatch. It appeared that no one else was anywhere around. My sin against Marpol would go unnoticed by the human eye. But, Mother Nature - now that’s a different story. She sent all of those birds to “Up Jinks” as if she wanted to shine a spotlight on my crime. You might be able to pull one over on man, but you will NEVER fool Mother Nature.