There was no intent to disturb his peaceful perch. However, the Yellow-footed Gull took no chances and let us know in no uncertain terms that the territory had already been claimed. How strange. Although we do not speak the language of the birds, we have no difficulty interpreting their meanings. Do we understand by observation of how individuals of the same species react when confronted by identical stimuli? Or is it instinctive in all vertebrates to recoil or retreat from an apparent threat? Whatever the reason, we got the message that it was breeding time for this endemic species of bird and real estate had high value to the pair. We backed away.

Morning greeted us with fiery red clouds between which a sliver of a green flash sunrise could be seen. "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning." The phrase was quickly forgotten as five or more Fin Whales appeared, their blows distracting us even from breakfast time. The words were further from our minds still as we dipped our kayak paddles into the satiny sea and gazed upon the colorful cliffs on the Baja California peninsula at Punta San Marcial. A broad arroyo penetrated the uplifted mountain range and we strolled inland, stopping to smell the flowers or touch the leaves of plants so well suited for life in this arid land. The canyon closed in. Carved peaks rose above and beneath our feet pink and green breccia paved the floor with boulders of increasing size. Returning to the beach near dinnertime, the quote of morning was brought quickly back to mind. The waters now stirred and churned, waves crashing on shore. It was back to the safety of our ship and the camaraderie of cocktail time for us. Outside the color of the sky mirrored the crimson of the morning. The sun entered and exited this day on a carpet of red.