The piece of clothing went flying off its perch just before dawn this morning. Things usually stay put down below at anchor. The sky was dark was grey. Something had changed. The wind has strengthened and shifted; a morning rain squall was here. Underway I would have been debating rolling up the job or running with it but we are at anchor and planning a quiet day. Karl’s hand on the pillow is totally relaxed, his new blue grey pearl necklace is steadily rising and falling with each breath and the anchor alarm is silent. No need to reef or worry. A perfect day for being on the boat at anchor for chores.

I worked on paperwork chores and Karl boat repair chores. The day flew. A lunch break to chat with our mermaid friend Julie camping on glaciated Spruce Island, Maine with Jim and Tim.

Late afternoon we decided to go fishing. The only island fish store, a combination poisinere/lavanderie fish store/laundry service is too far. We head for the freezers of the 2 small grocery stores close by. Walking along the one lane sand track between homes the sound we hear were only roosters crowing and dogs barking together with the persistent crashing of surf and wind in the palms. Three roosters strut in front of houses not fighting. We again reflected on the apparent lack of hens on this island. Every Pacific Island we have visited supported a large wild chicken population even the Galapagos. Hens with large broods of chicks dashed around every bush. No birds except roosters and sea birds. The roosters are uninterested in fighting. We have floated many ideas. Retirement home for former cock fighters? mecca for gay roosters?

The apparent keys to this mystery lounging in front of us. In the middle of the road are 5 lounging dogs. There are more dogs on Rangiroa than any other island and many dogs seem homeless. Yesterday, we watched a pair of dogs fishing in tidal pools. The Frenchman who sold us our beautiful but imperfect pearls laughed when we inquired about the missing hens. “The dogs”. He laughed. The hens and chicks on this island spend all the time hiding under houses defended by the lines of roosters. In the land where fruit is plentiful, Marquesas dogs ate mangos and left the chickens alone. Here where only coconuts fall from tree the Tuamoto dogs fish as the tide falls on the reef and hunt chickens and birds explaining the silent trees and the missing hens

We return to the boat and Karl starts cooking our catch, Danish farmed salmon, the only fish in the freezer. I jump in for a swim to check on our pet fish three long skinny fish lurking under the hull. With the low angle of the sunset I see the plankton the 6’ wide manta who vis splashed past flapping its giant wings was vacuuming up.

The full moon marks our journey. Leaving the Hudson on the lunar eclipse, pulling the anchor for the first time in the Pacific 14 June, 13 July full moon Santa Cruz Galapagos where we walked through lava tubes, 11 August Hiva Oa, Marquesas as we hunted for petroglyphs and now 10 September Rangiroa, Tuamotos where we learned to paddle a Va’a and solve the missing hen mystery.