It's not always obvious as you walk through the marina grounds, but you get the distinct feeling that you're being watched. Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse, a shadow. There, behind that tree. You turn, and it's gone.
It's the gangs of Ponce Marina. They're here. The young, underfed, long legged members slinking about. Looking for trouble? No, I don't think so. Their territories are well defined, although sometimes the braver ones cross the borders.
The orange hood is by the laundromat. They hang out here under the trucks, sometimes venturing into the staff lunchroom looking for scraps. Nobody shoos them away.
The black hood is around the pool. Crouching amid the bushes, watching you walk by. You can sometimes see their yellow eyes nearly hidden amongst the leaves.
Then there's the calico hood. This includes all the grounds surrounding the pavilion. The snack bar and associated garbage cans are a popular hangout. I've seen them there. Someone left a lid open and look...the remains of a sandwich!
I must admit that we felt sorry for them. That's why on our next trip we packed a Ziplock full of the good stuff. Friskies! Once under the tree at the pavilion I brought the bag out and shook it. No response. Hmmm. I tossed a couple on the ground, trying to gain their trust. One, no two calico's. I tossed a few more. All of a sudden from up in the tree came three more. Then a black one from over by the pool, and an orange one. They were very jumpy and wouldn't let me very close. They were suspicious, but oh that smell of something good in my tote bag!
The docks are off limits. Nobody ventures onto the docks.
Ah ha, this is why!