The Omen:
Upon arriving once again at Ginnie Springs, the cool day welcomed me. Clouds continued to roll in. No where to be found was there another soul. I was, for the moment, alone. A hive of squirrels buzzed around picking at the remains from the previous night's revelries. A squirrel perching upon its beer can wavered and fell off. Apparently, it was young for it did not hold its drink like the others.
While thanking God for his sense of humor, I was able to view a miracle. A large mud slider, about a foot and a half long was laying its clutch. I was able to stay a few feet away, downwind, without disrupting it. Just then, two young maidens of about eight walked up and disturbed the silence with a gasp. They had never seen such a sight. Like me, they were instantly filled with wonder. We sat as I explained to them the concept of conservation and how we should let the turtle be. They wanted to cover the clutch with a picnic table to prevent anyone from crushing the delicate eggs. I then had to describe how we, as observers, could not give unfair advantage to this turtle and her eggs. The agreed thinking it wise.
As I finished this conversation, my classmates pulled up to the site and we prepared for our chance to feel the draw of the cave once more. Peering at the water's surface, waiting on our instructor, a vision of a raven appeared; first in the water then calling out its warning above us as it took flight. It was joined by two smaller ravens and followed deeper into its tree. One of us would not make it into the depths today, one would stay behind.
As we turned, watching the birds fly away, our trainer appeared. We finalized our preparations and listened to our pre-dive briefing.
Johnny was the first in the water. I made it second followed shortly by the third. Our forth member was still on the deck. DIN o-ring issues, a tardy safety reel and a disconnected drysuit inflator hose kept him at odds with the water.
Our instructor was patient, so were we...
