Requirements for Earning the Grunion Run Scout Patch

This adventure is all about seeing nature in action. Thanks to a program offered by the Cabrillo Marine Museum, you will have a chance to observe the unique mating habits and biology of grunion. Learn all about this peculiar fish (and other local sea life) before walking down to the beach to watch the annual grunion spawning event. Bring a jacket and flashlight, and get ready to experience this unique phenomenon of the natural world.

Programs are held two to four days after a full moon, March–July. The museum opens at 8:00 p.m., and the beach closes at 12:00 a.m.

Requirement 1: After obtaining your local tour permit, meet with your den to drive to the Cabrillo Marine Museum.

1. Rush home after the Friday afternoon lineup of carpool pickup, piano lessons, and soccer practice.
   • Don’t swear as you trip over the pile of size-two light-up sneakers littered in the entryway.
2. Send your nine-year-old son to his room to change into his Cub Scout uniform while you heat up a frozen lasagna for your family’s dinner.
3. Change into your yellow den leader shirt. It will likely be in the laundry hamper, but that’s OK. Walk through a spritz of summer linen-scented air freshener to hide any musty smells.
4. Call your family in to eat dinner just as the microwave beeps. By the time you’ve set the table, you’ll notice that your Scout has disappeared.
5. Stomp through the house, shouting his name.
6. Make some empty threats—be creative (e.g., “If you don’t get out here right now, I’m going to give all of your birthday presents to a little boy who gets dressed when he’s supposed to!”).
7. Discover him playing with the iPad under his bed, wearing only his underwear.
8. Pull him out from under the bed by his ankles. Take away the iPad and watch as he collapses onto the matted carpet because it’s not fair that he didn’t receive all of his promised screen time.
9. Pull the uniform on over his floppy arms and button his shirt while he squirms, uncooperative, still on the floor.
10. Note that, by this point, there is no longer time to sit down and eat dinner. Shove your son into the car with a protein bar.
    • Try not to audibly growl when he complains that the choco-choco chimp flavor is his least favorite.

Requirement 2: Participate in at least two different activities at the museum.

1. Trail behind your son as he runs through the museum, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor, his sticky fingers smudging every display case. He’ll push past an elderly couple to see a display on native pinnipeds and then shout at another Scout during the touch-tank presentation.
   • Reflexively snap his name.
   • Try to tone it down when you add, “Inside voices, please.”
2. Follow the docent out of the museum and down to the shore. The beach will be chilly, so you’ll want to zip up your son’s jacket. He’ll push your hand away and dash toward the rising tide. The docent will stop him before you can. “We’re not allowed to touch the water right now. It scares the fish,” she’ll say.
3. Grab your son’s hand and try to tamp down the feeling that the docent is judging you as a mother.
4. Apologize for your son’s impulsiveness, for his inability to control himself. For your inability to teach him such things.

Requirement 3: Observe the grunion at the beach. Write a report describing the Grunion Run and reflecting on the experience.

1. Drag your son down the beach to stand with the rest of your group.
2. Watch as the full moon pulls the tide to its highest point on the beach. As the water recedes, you’ll see the first grunions of the night, slithering on top of the sand—just a handful at first, but every wave brings in another crop of the iridescent fish until they wash up in dozens, fifties, hundreds. They twist and shine, a silver wave caught on the beach.
3. Notice how the females wriggle their tails down into the sand, depositing a clutch of eggs.
4. Observe the males as they wash back with the tide, each one hoping to catch himself a protruding female, to curl around her and release his milt, fertilizing the sandy clutch below.
5. Watch the females free themselves from their nests and slip back into the ocean.
   • Feel a wash of jealousy as you watch the mothers leave their eggs behind, never tied to a carpool or meal plan or Scout activity.
   • Feel a surge of guilt at the thought.
6. See your son take a few steps forward and stop, mesmerized by the swirling sea foam and glints of fish writhing in the moonlight. Notice how cherubic his ruddy cheeks seem in the milky light, how the curve of his nose looks exactly the same as the day he was born.
7. Recognize a stab of remorse when he smiles at you. Ask yourself whether the eggs are better off without a mother to snap at them.
8. Wonder whether those mothers ever worry about their eggs, if maybe they leave because they can’t bear to watch their soft-boned babies charging through the breaking waves, demanding life from a vast, unforgiving ocean.
9. When your son returns to your side and slips his sandy hand into yours, give it a squeeze. Promise yourself you’ll do better tomorrow. Recognize that it’s less of a promise and more of a prayer.