Sounds of the Night: Oyster Bay chickee

I sit in the dark on a chickee (tent platform) over the water listening to the sounds of the night.

The familiar splat as fish jump is so much bigger than during the day. The splish and splash of unknown sea creatures break the surface and the silence.

Grunts from shore. The powerful swoosh-slosh, maybe an alligator? The sharp exhale of a dolphin and then the familiar breath. The more relaxed two breaths of the manatee. Hoots and calls. The "kerplunk" of drips under the chickee, like the sound of an indoor water feature. Small, quick sloshes near the mangrove. The sound of waves rippling, though there is no wind.

Everything is magnified. Everything is crisp and clear, though most of it is unknown. The moonless night and the dark mangroves give no hints. The black water under us is alive.

A powerful swosh-slosh. Then another. Then a crashing, banging splash. A panicked tent zipper. "Oh s**t!  My boat flipped over!" Another panicked tent zipper. The sound of everyone scurrying to get flashlights and trying to figure out what happened. Slosh and drip, as Roger pulls a lost bag out of the water. The sound of the hand pump sucking water in and blasting it out over and over and over again. Voices trying to make sense of what happened.

The slow sound of tents zippers, and rustling of sleeping bags. The soft snoring.

The rhythmic knocking of jar of peanut butter inside a gently rocking stern compartment, sounding like a giant bamboo wind chime. A splash. The incessant chirping of cicadas. Another splash. The buzzing of a mosquito.

I sit in the dark on a chickee over the water listening to the sounds of the night.