I spend most of it buried in a research study about the outbreak of HPAI H5N1 in marine mammals in California, specifically the first detection in northern elephant seals and what it could mean for our coast. The words on my screen start to blend after a while, citations and data charts filling the page as I work through the final sections.
A soft knock on my door pulls me out of it.
I look up to see George standing in the doorway.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Good,” I say, turning slightly in my chair. “I’m almost done. I’m sending it over to Cassie for review before we submit it.”
“Great,” he says with a small nod. “Rafi’s heading home. He’s not feeling well.”
“Oh no.”
“He was scheduled for the whale excursion at two,” George continues. “Are you able to cover for him? I’d ask Cassie, but she has a meeting we can’t reschedule.”
“Of course,” I say, glancing at the clock on my computer screen. “I can take my lunch now and head over.”
“Sounds good.”
He taps lightly on the doorframe before turning and walking back toward his office.
I reread the last two paragraphs I wrote for the third time, adjusting a sentence here and there before finally closing the document. A quick email to Cassie follows, with the attachment included and a note asking her to review it before we submit it to the Department of Fish and Wildlife for public publication.
Then I grab my phone, water bottle, and jacket and head out the door.
It only takes a few minutes to get home.
Neptune is already waiting by the door when I walk in, his tail wagging wildly like he’s been standing there all morning, anticipating my return.
“Hi Neppy,” I say, crouching to scratch behind his ears before opening the back door for him.
He trots outside immediately.
While he does his business, I throw together a quick sandwich and refill his food and water bowls. I take a moment to check my text messages.
Messages from my sisters, both losing their minds.
I laugh quietly to myself and text back.
Me:
I’ll text after work with the full story.
Outside, Neptune waits with his tennis ball already in his mouth, staring at me expectantly. I toss it across the yard a few times, letting him run off some energy.
Before I know it, it’s time for me to go back to work. Neptune makes his way back to his bed while I head to my room and change into proper clothes for the water — waterproof pants,my rain jacket, and my boots. I quickly braid my hair over one shoulder, then lock the back door, grab my keys, and make my way out the door.
The drive to the harbor is a quick one. At first, everything looks like any other afternoon, until I turn onto Coast Guard Drive.
The harbor is packed.
Tourists line the sidewalks, waiting for their whale-watching tours, cameras hanging from their necks, families gathered around ticket booths. But mixed in with them are clusters of fishermen and harbor workers, all standing around watching the water.
And the Coast Guard side of the harbor is… busy.
Service members move quickly along the docks, preparing vessels, engines running, radios crackling across the water.
Something feels off.
