Our Laysan albatross chicks sit around waiting for mom and dad to fly in with dinner. The visit lasts all of a few minutes. So what do the chicks do the rest of the week? They preen, for one. And why not? Especially when these cool, new adult feathers appear. It’s like the teenager who spends hours looking at himself in the mirror grooming a few, straggly mustache hairs. It’s not like our chicks have much else to do. So, they tease out the down–you can see it encircling their nest cup–and wait for the feathers that will see them fledge in a little over a month now. 

Time. It tends to slip away all too quickly.  What with the invention of fax machines, the creation of FedEx and now the Internet, text messaging, Twitter and Facebook, we like to think our generation somehow cranked the handle of time too tightly and is now watching it unravel at an unprecedented rate. And, yet, how do we explain the aphorism “time flies,” perhaps first known in Latin as the expression tempus fugit? Was the Roman poet Virgil a poor manager of his own time? Or was he making a statement for all the people of his day, and, thereby, making the passage of time a human experience rather than a 21^st century one? 

Ten days after mom left, a team from NOAA tagged our girl. Because the scientists put two tags on her–in case one falls off–her official name is A00/A01. We, however, named her Kaikoa. 

The Society of American Travel Writers (SATW), the world’s largest organization of professional travel journalists and photographers, recently polled its members to come up with the “Top 10” tips to help travelers take better vacation photos. “With digital cameras, it has never been easier or cheaper to take top quality vacation photos,” states SATW president and broadcast travel journalist, Bea Broda. “However, there are still some things that travelers can do to help them come back with stunning images of their vacation,” she said. 

It was overcast and drizzling when I arrived at sunrise. The Hawaiian monk seal mom and pup had hauled out before Lloyd and I showed up. We removed the signs and ropes and walked the long walk to the north end of the beach, where the seals once snuggled alongside a fence we had erected for their protection. They had long since ditched those digs, favoring spots further south along the beach. But we didn’t find them at the north end, either.

Lloyd looked at me. “Do you want to go around the point?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I answered. 

The wind barely stirred on this day at sunrise, as a rooster strutted and crowed in the bushes at the edge of the beach. I’ve noticed a couple things in the past few days. One, pup is turning grey, especially on her belly. And, two, pup is not happy with mom. 

There are days I’d like to bury my head in the sand: When the phone rings too much. When the computer acts wonky. When my to-do list grows instead of shortens. 

To answer a few questions, we are still betting pup is a female. She won’t be tagged for another couple weeks (after mom weans her) and until then–when scientists get up close and personal with her–we won’t know for sure. At this point, with binoculars and telephoto zoom lenses, we can see her four teats. Like humans, though, males sport teats, too. The real determinant is whether there is a “penile groove.” (I know. I know. But I didn’t name it that.) It’s hard to detect even with binoculars.