Don't Have a Cow while Up the Creek without a Paddle

A life lesson that could only be taught by nature.

My kayak moved through the mangroves barely creating a ripple as I admired the warm sun and beautiful birds. My presence was somewhat of an intrusion in this quiet, untouched region of a Florida barrier island. The heavy, salty air weighed on my tiring arms after four hours of paddling against ocean currents and then getting lost in the mangrove maze. Near the tip of the kayak, fishes plopped in and out of the water under the watchful glares from predatory birds. I paddled twice more hoping to discover a break in the mangrove thickets. A loud exhalation and small splash on my left stopped my third stroke. A manatee. It was followed only a moment later by another exhalation-splash on my right. Another manatee. My mouth slowly curved upward at their arrival, but quickly faded when I felt a disruption under my boat. The kayak began to rise above the water and wobbled on the back of a third manatee. My body spilled out to my left and I laid momentarily on the back of the first manatee. One arm held tightly to the kayak and I used my limited acrobatic talents to heave myself back into the boat. My manatee friends dispersed as quickly as they appeared. So much for slothful sea cows.

Of course the nearby Great Blue Heron now hoarded my paddle. This would be interesting... ...

I laid in the kayak staring at the sky attempting to slow my breathing and recover from this surprise. The sun was no longer overhead, but bleeding into the western mangroves. Most importantly I needed to figure out how to reach the other side of the small lake without a paddle, then face a rather feisty looking Heron. Swallowing the fears of potential snakes and alligators, I reached out for the nearest mangrove root and pulled myself around the lake root by root. I was a meter away from the unmovable Heron when I heard another plop of water followed by a streak of silver slime landing between my legs. The fish flopped wildly in my boat and I flipped the fish out toward the Heron with two hands. With a swift swoosh of feathers, the fish was in the Heron's beak and I reached for my paddle. Two more quick paddles revealed the much needed break in the mangrove thicket and I re-entered the busy intercoastal channel. 

Surprises reveal the unexpected potential of our environment and when met with courage will reveal the desired path.