We woke up at the crack of dawn (I’m using the word “dawn” very loosely here since we don’t really have nights) to find the boat surrounded by pea soup fog. Back to sleep! I didn’t mind too much as I had surveyed until midnight last night, and stayed up another couple of hours to clean up my data and work on a few others things.

(I should explain that, as the seabird observer, I survey for seabirds when the ship is transiting between stations, as long as I have at least 100 m visibility.)

And then the fog stayed, like a cat that had found a comfortable spot to take a nap. I remember a Carl Sandburg poem:

            The fog comes

            on little cat feet.

            It sits looking

            over harbor and city

            on silent haunches

            and then moves in

The fog began lifting in the late afternoon, and we were treated to a beautiful double fogbow wrapped around the bow.

However, much like a cat, the fog changed its mind about leaving. Kate (marine mammal queen) and I tried to survey when the ship started transiting to the next station, but the fog wouldn’t let up, despite teasing us a few times. Kate gave up after a couple of hours, and I continued to trudge on optimistically. The fog got worse, just as bad as it was in the morning, so I quit too.

I cleaned up the day’s data, shut down my computer, and looked up… The fog was completely gone.

Oh field work.

 All fog and no birds. Photo credit: Catherine Pham

All fog and no birds. Photo credit: Catherine Pham

 Photo credit: Catherine Pham

Photo credit: Catherine Pham

 Photo credit: Catherine Pham

Photo credit: Catherine Pham

 Photo credit: Catherine Pham

Photo credit: Catherine Pham