Night Life on the Sandspit

Night is a time to be descriptive.  Photos are not a useful tool.  Here, the night is filled with the sounds of water.  Walk on one side and you hear the thunderous crash and feel the ground shake as  the ocean slams the beach then retreats with the hiss of sand and water. The palm leaves whispering above.

On the other, a contrasting silence filled with the sounds of life in the laguna.  It is like walking into another room where the ocean is like the distant murmur of voices from the room you left.  Several different species of frog or tree frog are singing.  One group effort sounds like the Spring peepers of home.  A soloist could be a toad or a frog with a “chirruping” call.   Many species of insects hum and buzz.  A heron croaks startled by some night intruder, perhaps Kirk and me.  Something splashes briefly amongst the reeds on the waters edge.  Momentary disturbances in the chorus of the night.  I look up, a Yellow-crowned night heron looks down on us from his silent perch on a palm tree.  In the night it is as much about the silence as it is about sound.  For some it is a time of activity - mating, feeding, building.   For others it is their absence that is noticed.   Kirk and I continue.

Surprisingly there are very few mosquitoes or flies here.   There are tiny harmless fishflies gathered around any small source of light.

Of course, there is the occasional firecracker in the distance after all this is Mexico.

Getting bricks to the fifth floor