Grayson by Lynne Cox Page B

against each other. Their dorsal fins cut through the water like razor blades slicing through canvas. They leaped up side by side and the first dolphin won again. Underwater, he sounded like he was cackling.
    Seven more dolphins joined in, but after doing a few tail-walks, they changed the game. They started doing somersaults. They raced across the water, gaining speed, while the dolphins waiting their turns chattered and squeaked like cheerleaders. The dolphins launched into the air, tucked their heads, threw their tails over their heads, and splashed down on their backs or almost completed a full aerial somersault before they hit the water. And when they submerged they squeaked with delight.
    Then I felt something moving below me. It was a dolphin, swimming only three feet down. She rolled over onto her back and looked up at me, and then she rolled over again. She turned sharply and circled back with four more dolphins swimming beside her. They were clicking and squeaking and chattering loudly.
    They swam right under me and I wanted to reach out and touch them. More dolphins were joining in. They were swimming stacked three on top of one another with a foot of water between them. And they were chattering, as if giving directions to one another. Two dolphins rolled over quickly, flipper over flipper from one side to the other; the hourglass patterns on their bodies spiraled below me.
    Time was spinning. I was losing track of time.
    Where was Grayson?
    Quickly I turned my head. Grayson was only ten feet from me and he seemed to be watching too.
    We watched the dolphins playing for nearly five minutes. Then they disappeared and Grayson moved closer.
    A flock of brown pelicans patroled the water. They were about fifty yards from us, gliding on their six-foot-longwings, like mini-gliders, cruising six inches above the violet-blue ocean in single file until the lead pelican began flapping his wings fast. The tips of his wings looked like fingers, grabbing hold of the air while the wing blades themselves were pushing hard against the air to gain altitude.
    The pelican climbed sharply, moving like a rock climber up a rock face, nearly straight up. Eight pelicans followed. When they reached twenty feet above the ocean, the lead pelican tucked his neck against his chest. His heavy beak and large pouch pulled him forward and he dove fast.
    At the very last moment he opened his beak and tucked his wings back. He hit the water with a huge splash; his yellow feathered crown disappeared beneath the water, then he emerged with about half a dozen anchovy in his pouch. He squeezed out the water, tilted his head back, and swallowed the fish whole. His companions followed and caught pouchfuls of anchovy. Seagulls appeared out of nowhere. Squawking loudly and dive-bombing the pelicans, the seagulls attempted to steal fish from them. They tried to intimidate the pelicans so they’d drop the fish, andthey tried to steal the fish right out of the pelicans’ pouches.
    The birds signaled it was breakfast time. From where we were floating Grayson and I could see a massive school of anchovy. Their small bodies were flickering bright silver and gold in the yellow sunlight and they were moving across the water in schools that stretched half a mile into the distance.
    The dolphins reappeared, and split into three groups: Some went to the right, others to the left, and some came up from behind. They encircled the fish, working together, and herded the anchovy into a tight ball. Some had breakfast, some continued to play, and I watched them with delight and fascination. They were so bright, social, animated; most of all, it seemed like dolphins just wanted to have fun. They made me smile and remember my first dolphin encounter.
    Once when I was training with a friend off Surfside, one beach south of Seal Beach, two common dolphins swam up from behind him.
    He had no idea that they were beside him. I had just ridden a wave into shore and I was heading back