He was middle-aged, mid-sized, middle-heavy cadaver-in-waiting. He was standing in the middle of the nature center door.
He was wearing sandals, turquoise knee length socks, matching turquoise Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian print shirt (open to the navel) boasting colors even Timothy Leary never dreamed of.
Adornments included a white terry cloth visor (that still had the price tag on it), wrap around sun glasses, a gem studded watch, and his neck was burdened by a gold chain whose weight would have sunk a fair sized Spanish Galleon.
I figured him for the owner of a small retail liquor chain.
He figured me for the impediment standing between him and having a nice day.
“Whaz t’doo heah?” he demanded in consummate North Joiseyeese, a dialect of English that rabbit starts the consonants and burns rubber on the vowels.
I told him that he was standing at the crossroads of migration at the junction of three seasons.
That as we spoke there were birds heading north to nest; birds heading south for the winter; and lots and lots of species that were already engaged in the busy process of rearing their young.
He didn’t seem interested in migration.
I told him that Cape May was fortunate to have proximity to open natural lands like the Higbee Beach Wildlife Management Area, the Nature Conservancy properties, and Cape May Point State Park that were open to the public.
He didn’t seem interested in open space.
I told him that they cut through a variety of ecosystems–hackberry and holly forest, freshwater wetlands, ponds and fields. Each one unique; each one compellingly different.
He didn’t seem interested in ecosystems.
I told him that just off shore there were lots and lots of dolphin (just like Flipper) and two miles of open beach strategically located right next to those dolphin rich waters for his viewing pleasure.
Reaction? Zero. Less than zero. The cadaver could have cared less.
There was a period of silence while the man waited for me to offer him an enticement the entertainment centers of his brain couldn’t refuse. Hearing none he took a puff of a cigar that smelled like a bus, leaned out the door, and shouted toward the car that he’d left running and the occupant hidden behind tinted glass:
“Dares nuhin’ t’doo heah.” And then he left.
You, of course, are different. You are visiting Cape May precisely because of the array of natural opportunities that distinguish Cape May from other shore towns.
Any shore community can have a beach. But how many vacation spots boast one of the planet’s most celebrated bird migrations? How many are famous for the vast concentrations of birds as well as great species diversity?
Over 400 species of birds have been recorded here. More than 300 species are found here in a year. Over 200 have been seen in a single day! Were you to go on one of the regularly scheduled bird walks offered by the Cape May Bird Observatory, you are almost guaranteed to see between 30-50 species.
There are whale watch cruises. There are butterfly walks. There are do-it-yourself kits (binoculars and a field guide) that you can buy for less than the price of dinner for two that will let you go out and engage Ma Nature one on one.
And if none of these things interest you, you can try and catch up with the guy smoking the cigar that smelled like a bus. He’s looking for something to do, too. And he’s got a head start.
Looking for something to do? Visit our Naturalist Calendar!