To me it feels unusually autumnal within some of these June moments; a northerly wind gusts and rustles the lush green leaves that then become silver. Against an utterly blue sky an egret coasts and swoops looking like some origami ornament overhead.

But then again, there is still the usual summer feel – ferries offloading more cars, returning college students arriving early for summer jobs, the scent of cut grass awaits families, even boats and moorings are united again.

When our Island Sentinel team monitors East Harbor it’s not unusual for us to count the vessels that start rafting up in July and August – just off the Golf Course next to the old red roofed Coast Guard Station. Data suggests each year there seems to be more boats, I am grateful though that each year there seems to be less rubbish and marine debris along these sands; to me a sign of good neighborly stewardship.

There is a healthy and lush Eelgrass meadow within that Harbor too. I bring this up so boaters will be extremely mindful not to drag anchor and impact this unique habitat.

And then there is “Raymond. The Fish team at Mystic Aquarium helped me to identify a stranded Atlantic Torpedo ray (torpedo nobiliana) which Island Sentinel Olivia Backhaus discovered this month while recording morning observations at low tide up East. Come to find out Raymond “can produce an electric charge of about 170-220 volts. “Not enough to kill a healthy human, but it would knock ya for a loop!” That same morning the unique creature was ever so gently assisted back into the harbor.

So as we enjoy the glorious days of summer, so thankful for Fishers Island Sound with seagrass habitat that’s willing and able to recover, we can all remind each other to tread lightly because “Everybody loves Raymond”.

“Who- Who- Who- Cooks- for you?” Barred owl’s echo off Silver Eel Cove is muffled with the pillow over my head. Honestly Owl, I cook for me, but not at 4am. A few toss and turns later the chorus of songbirds announces the coming of day. The sun dressed in pinks, reds, even violet peeks peacefully over South Beach and the parade grounds. There is the flip flop of webbed feet above me; the cottage roof where a herring gull stands watch. With all my naturalist endeavors, I would like to think this bird is satisfied with baby bunker fish. Perhaps it got wind of strewn popcorn the Fort Wright crows often insist upon (my bad). As the 7:45am ferry docks, a pair of mallard ducks make their routine landing and quite a splash into a terracotta bath meant for that chorus of songbirds. It looks to be a calm blue-sky day and with tides low I grab binoculars and clicker and head off on my bike to Hungry Point.

Last year the harbor seals hauled off and out by May 8th. Today by 8:00am on May 11th, pheasants are grazing beside the old movie theater. Time flies with me as I coast down the hill and pedal even faster past the duck pond. I look for the wood duck Carl Scroxton always sees and I remind myself to ask Janio if I might place a wood duck house in that habitat. Looping around the post office, I veer off to the Village Market – with a hankering for toast and fresh squeezed OJ, I am making great time. A few minutes later I find that I have detoured to check on coyote tracks at Dock Beach. Rounding the bend I spy an overturned horseshoe crab. Just as I put on the brakes, I receive a text at 8:30am: Seven baby swans are in a pond before the Big Club. The morning shifts from third to first gear; the upside down Limulus is rescued and swims into West Harbor. The sun glints and climbs beside me as I dart back to the post office remembering I need to stop by Eiriksson’s and check on the injured crow Lisa is caring for. My today is turning into a “to do.” Just then Larry Horn waves me down-all timing seems perfect. I tell him all about the incredible minke whale sighting the ferry crew shared with me; last Friday eve just off Government Bell Buoy. But it’s stinky VS. a minke as we revel in these stories. Larry pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of a dead skunk ashore on Chocomount! I joke that “smelling is believing” and speed off to photo document; smiling about our Island times with “All the News that’s Fit to Print”. I take a shortcut and whiz past the gate house waving to Johnny B.

“Don’t give me a demerit!”

Bruce Hubert’s bicycle van comes to a halt.

“Thanks for tightening these brakes, Bruce”.

“Hey Justine, did you get the 2 Owls I dropped off, somehow got trapped in a house.”

“Yes, barred owls, but the museum already has a specimen – I got them to a freezer” shouting from up the road.

I can tell the noon whistle is about to blast, remembering I didn’t get to the store, remembering to thank Pierce for sharing Island history slides yesterday. It’s a funny thing – memories on a tiny Island. Noting the osprey’s attempt to nest neatly, I swerve through a cluster of branches and dried eelgrass dropped below on the Recreational Path. A sharp turn and I’m aimed towards Chocomount Beach whose monster’s painted footprints appear different from 40 years ago-different species I suppose. Following the scent of skunk I snap a few pictures. I also follow the trail of nearby landscaping-wondering if the animal snuck into some mulch or even equipment on its maiden voyage from the mainland. The super tide over the weekend has me deduct differently. By 2:25pm, this afternoon I can see that the seals at Hungry Point are teasing me-hauled off but heads and snouts bobbing-no final departure northward yet. If I pedal fast now I can safely maneuver Island work force traffic headed home on Baby Doll, Popeye, and the 4:45 ferries. Finally arriving west myself, I run upstairs to check email: Would I please come east and document a dolphin washed ashore at the castle? I laugh, still wanting that slice of toast but blessed with this Slice of Life.