Journal Entries by Eric Ott
April 3, 2004: Earlier this afternoon I went kayaking out at Moro Bay. It was a warm
sunny day and all the worries in my mind went away. As I approached some ducks, I
reflected on my personality. On the surface of the water you see this peaceful duck with a
great carefree life, but under the water, those poor little webbed feet are moving a mile a
minute. That duck is a lot like myself. I put up a front that most people look at and smile,
but deep inside me I have much going on that no one will ever fully understand. Then,
out from under the darkening sea, a sea otter pops up, rolls smoothly to its back and
begins cracking a small crab he just caught. Just behind him, a couple ivory white
seagulls dive bomb down in hope of catching some of the sea otter’s scraps. This just
amazed me at how God’s creations tend to be so at ease with nature, not taking anything
for granted.
April 9, 2004: Sitting and waiting for my next educational class, I begin to daydream
about when I was a young boy. I was born and raised on a farm with four hundred open
acres as my backyard playground and nature at its best right outside the doorstep. I
remember being the best tree climber, scaling up the limbs like a chameleon trying to fit
right in with those trees. There was this one enormous oak tree that I couldn’t stay away
from. The lazy-boy branches and the dampening shade made it my prime resting place. I
would climb all over that magnificent tree, finding the blue jay’s nest with freshly
hatched younglings. I remember not to touch them, as then the mother won’t care for
them anymore. Their crying screams has me swing down the branches, dig a hole in the
rich fertile soil and pull out a few long, squirmy worms. I climb back up, hold the worms
up, their heads shoot up and necks extend like a small giraffe. I lower my hand and the
younglings gulp it down like it was nothing. Then the mother returned, so I ventured off
up the tree. As I look to the sky scraping branches with the strain inn my neck from
tilting my head, I see these nests that I could have laid in when I was a child. The great
conqueror of the sky, the red tail hawk circles down to its nest with a young rabbit
grasped tightly in its claws. Before I knew it, the sun was going down and I had to leave
my utopia to answer my mother’s call for dinner.
April 15, 2004: The wind rustles through my hair like a golden retriever with its head out
the window of a speeding truck as I sit atop the hill behind the Poly dorms. I look down
upon the city, kind of like the father looks down on us. The cars look like my old Tonka
toys, as the people resemble fire ants marching to their dens. The clouds form a light blue
blanket over the sky, hiding the blinding sun. In a distance I can see the smokestacks
from Duke Energy plant as the deep blue sea fades in the background. I look down on the
vast array in amazement of how crowded the city is. House after house, building after
building, with new construction on the rise, I wonder what it will be like in ten, fifteen
years. If there will be any open space to enjoy nature at its best? My dad always tells me
about how it was back in Modesto, back in most places ten years ago; where the open
range would go for miles on end. Where the coyotes and white tail foxes would roam
around with no fear of humans. Aww, but how that has faded.
April 26, 2004: Sitting outside with my back to the ground on a slight graded hill, my
eyes are distracted as two monarchs go dancing by. A third joins in and now it seems like
a game of cat and mouse. With every slight turn, the other is a fraction of a second
behind, like two pilots in a dogfight, never losing vision of the other. Once again my
mind drifts back to a good ol’ memory. It was a somewhat cloudy fall afternoon at
Montana de Oro. I was on a leisurely hike when something distracted my eyes. I looked
up at the trees and saw nothing but leaves. Was my mind playing tricks on me? I could
have sworn I saw something. As I stepped forward with the weight shifting to my left
heel, a branch broke underneath. Like a shot it the sky, the monarchs flourished the sky in
every which direction. It was as if I was in a hurricane of monarchs trying to find the way
to safety. The butterflies then drift from my vision as a call from a friend sucks me back
to reality.
May 6, 2004: While we are walking back from another wonderful class hike, we decide
to take a different route back, a longer route. The green plants and trees that was earlier
desolate, is now flourishing. As we walk by, I see this stream and am immediately
brought back to my fishing day with my dad. I was only about eight years old, it was mid
summer and my dad was actually caught up with farming. Since he had to get one of the
pumps going to irrigate the corn, he told me to grab the fishing poles. My eyes widened
and my heart raced as I quickly grabbed the fishing gear. We got to the pump, a nice
sandy beach, carefully wrapped the worn around the hook and casted my pool. After
about 10 minutes my dad fell asleep so my senses became my amusement. I looked
around and saw lilies everywhere with occasional cattail spots on the bank. This provided
great coverage for the croaking frogs who would occasionally jump back into the water
with a loud splash, scaring all the silver minnows. I then looked downstream as my eyes
were drawn to a small tree falling over. Shortly thereafter, I see a little beaver grab it with
its teeth and head for its dam. Then, there was a jolt on my pool, my hands grabbed it
tighter and yanked it ferociously up as I begin to reel it in. After about a two minute fight
and my dad finally waking up to watch me, I begin to see the fish. He is fighting for his
life, going this way and that, jolting up into the air with a couple tail whips and then
landing abruptly back into the river. I finally have it right in front of me , this enormous
fish was half my body, as I pulled with all the muscle I had to get that fish out of the
water. Right when it was about a food out of water, the tail flung back and my line broke.
My heart was sad as my eyes captured a great fight, a great memory, while my trophy
joyously swam downstream.
May 8, 2004: Walking outside after my Crops Club Awards Banquet out at Dairy Creek,
I looked up into the sky and was amazed to se so many stars. It was definitely nice, yet it
did not compare to Camp Mensinger up near Strawberry. It was a big scout camp and one
night for our astrology badge we hiked up to the highest mountain, laid our backs on the
red soil covered with the most uncomfortable rocks and looked up into the sky, out at the
stars. We had to know where each of 15 constellations were at and then we passed our
test. After completion of the constellations identification, I sat in amazement at how close
we were to the stars. The Milky Way was right there, thick as could be, no way you could
miss it. About an hour later, shooting stars were beginning to leap from the sky. It was a
meteor shower like no other. My eyes continued to soak up this natural phenomenon as I
stared in disbelief. My eyes closed to make a wish and the next thing I know, it’s early
morning with the sun climbing over the mountains.
May 16, 2004: As I went outside this morning to go study in the backyard to think
clearer, my senses quickly took over. There was a gentle yet soothing northeasterly
breeze blowing by, filling my lungs with the sweet smell of our orange and tangerine
trees. My ears were quickly cocked back as I heard a noise under the lemon tree. It was a
small brown brush bird flinging the small wooden mulch layer in hope of uncovering
some insects. I then saw a big shadow pass by. Looking up into the sky, an enormous
vulture gently glided in circles above, eagerly surveying the land for its next meal. A blue
belly lizard quickly drew my attention as he made a lot of noise passing through the
rustling leaves. The lizard stopped, arms and legs spread apart, body at 40-degree angle,
head as if at attention for the drill sergeant. The tail went straight back and then gently
wrapped around like a fishhook. The lizard’s arms and feet stayed still, but the body went
up and down, up and down, as if it were a soldier looking out of his trench, only quickly
to return back to safety. I finally realized I just go lost in nature for 30 minutes and now
must begin my studies.
May 19, 2004: Last night as I slept, I was woken up by the chirping/singing of a few
mocking birds. This was actually rather pleasant, as the birds seemed to be
communicating back and forth in long verses that really were music to the ear. I then
remember when I was a kid coming across a baby blue jay on the grass as I mowed our
front lawn. I stopped what I was doing, looked around and up the trees for a nest but
couldn’t figure where it came from. My only guess was that it was learning to fly. Being
so young, the feathers weren’t that thick and the head was still half bald. As I picked him
up into my hands, he quickly pecked my finger, causing me to drop him. H tried
fluttering his wings but still wound up on the ground. I picked him up again and gently
threw him into the air. His poor little wings only got him about 5 yards before he landed
on the grass again. Once again, I cupped him into my hands, quietly stroked his feathers
and then threw him high up in the air. His wings beat ferociously as his body seemed like
an anchor when all of the sudden he found the right rhythm and went flying off. Moments
later he returned as if to thank me, and then headed off over the pine tree.
May 21, 2004: As soon as I got done with school today my best friend and I decided to
beat the heat and go surfing out at Cayucos. Putting on our warm rubber wetsuits we
looked out at the ocean and we saw little objects everywhere. Once we got closer we
realized they were sailfish, thousands and thousands of them, all over the beach and out
in the water. They had a round circular base with light blue tentacles hanging from them
and a little sail to help them drift along. In the water they were a light blue color, but once
they became washed up on shore, they soon withered away and faded to a transparent
object. We then hopped in the water and paddled out past the waves. When I looked
down into the water sitting on my board, I realized that I could see all the way to the
bottom. About 9 feet down you could see the submerged rocks with the salty seaweed
gently holding on to it. Then I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me as I saw a
small rock move. Curiosity catching the best of me, I dove down, opened my eyes in the
dense salt water and saw a dark red crab sidestepping away from me. I quickly tried to
grab him but his defensive claws reacted well and had us at a stand still. I popped up to
the surface for more air and returned to the sandy bottom where I baited the crab with one
hand dangling in front of him and forcefully snatched him from behind with the other
hand. I swam back to the surface, placed the crab on my surfboard and began admiring
this creature. Within about a minute a sea otter popped up right next to me, making my
heart jump to my throat, and it was waiting for his chance at that crab. I shooed the otter
away and let the crab drift back to the bottom and fend for himself for I did not want to
interrupt nature.
May 23, 2004: I was driving around Santa Margarita this afternoon when I saw a coyote
run out across the road right in front of me. Immediately I was taken back to when I was
around seven years old. I remember I was on the back of our old three-wheeler with my
dad, changing the water between alfalfa blocks. We were driving on the bumpy dirt road
when we came across this light brown young male coyote. My dad stopped the threewheeler, as we were only about 30 yards away from him. The coyote stopped searching
for gophers, eyes glued to my father and I with the pointy ears straight up to hear
everything. He looked like a statue besides the wind blowing through his fur. My dad
then told me to hop off the three-wheeler and watch the coyote while he went to go get
the gun. Nervously, I slowly got off that rusty three-wheeler and became terrified that I
might satisfy his appetite. With the quick lick of his tongue, I went running after my dad,
where he turned around and laughed at me, saying that he was just joking and wasn’t
going to leave me.
May 26, 2004: As I was on my way to the Farm Shop out at Field 25 earlier today, I
heard a couple loud hoots and seconds later a great barn owl went soaring overhead and
down to the birch tree by the creek. I first thought back to when I was younger and would
go in the barn with a spotlight and see these two young white owls flying near the ceiling.
Their bodies weren’t very big but their wingspan was enormous. The color of their
feathers could have easily blended right in with the snow, except for the dark brown eyes.
The next morning I would return to the barn only to find large bird (owl) droppings
everywhere, with the occasional body parts from gophers and rabbits lying on the ground.
There presence was greatly appreciated as they helped the rodent problem at our ranch.
However, lately there have been these two great big brown spotted owls outside our
house. They sit on the floodlights at night and begin screaming/screeching at one another.
It’s as if they are fighting for proprietorship, except it is the same thing night after night.
After being woken up by their hoots and screeches, we go turn on the floodlights and two
dark owls turn their heads all the way around their bodies to make it look like their heads
were attached backwards on their bodies. Then their wings spread wide and they take off
into the dark abyss.