Every day, the first check I make upon awakening are the batteries - almost all life aboard is reliant on those two big lead boxes tucked away at the bottom of the boat. This morning, upon checking, I was mortified - the gauges both read 10.6 volts - that's more than dead! I ran to the engines, opened the cocks and while praying fervently but not sure to whom, I turned the key - they started! - the voltage slowly rose. Subsequently, at our 9AM radio check-in, I inquired of those more technically proficient than I, but nothing seemed clear, in fact, all seemed totally contradictory: while the gauges read 10.6 all seemed to be functioning normally. And that is where we find ourselves now - no answers, instead a painful reminder of ones vulnerability, in this case, to those somewhat mysterious boxes below - without their energetic cooperation, all systems aboard will fail. In the midst of all this, I noticed in the cockpit, the severed wing of a bird - it was not long before I found the creature to whom this wing belonged, cowering on the back trampoline. My heart drooped for I knew our options were very limited - the bird's and mine. Its survival was almost assuredly not possible whether I took it in for the next 20 days or if I returned it to the wild. I sat and thought. Very reluctantly, I could come to only one conclusion - that it had correctly fallen to me to put it out of its misery, a misery getting more acute by the minute. I dragged myself around the boat searching for a stick, dreading but knowing that that awful moment would come. And so, with the found stick in hand and trying to avoid the eyes of this sweet creature, I administered a thankfully well-placed and hard 'bang on the head' - it died instantly. I committed it to the sea realizing that this creature too, lived in a state of vulnerability never even imagined...the lurking blades of my wind generator.

---------- radio email processed by SailMail for information see: http://www.sailmail.com