Sounds of Spring

A boat yard during a spring day is a noisy place.  The snort and roar of the travel lift, the drone of the sanders, buzz of the grinders and general hubbub are very familiar.

So too are the more pleasant noises after the yard shuts down for the day: for those of us live-aboards who travel a distance to fit up the boats in spring, the yard offers a variety of bird calls, wind in the rigging, water lapping at the piers, rhythmic clanking of rigging. Even the sound of an errant halliard slapping against a mast is not an annoyance this early in the season.

And in the quiet hours one becomes much more aware of the subtler sounds of the on-board systems.  You notice the fan in the shore charger kicking in and the refrigerator cycling  and sending coolant gurgling and sighing thru the lines from the compressor to the icebox.

This year, I noticed that mourning doves have taken over my part of the marina, with whistling wings and whoo-whooeeet-whoo-whoo calls. Mating time, so it’s quite busy for them.

But today, I was awakened by a mourning dove at very close quarters – right above my head, on deck, calling whoo-whooeeet-whoo-whoo, stopping to listen, then calling again.

Sort of mystifying.

I listened for maybe half an hour, then realized what it must be.  My bunk is just forward of the icebox.  Every time the refrigerant made its sighing noise, the dove answered.

Should I tell him?

Like Michael Flanders and his armadillo, I chose to let him be. “Never tell the truth about the one that he adores”.