When I sail offshore, I often pick up hitchhikers hundreds of miles from the nearest land.  They have no nationality and carry no passports, but they are always welcome.

These stowaways are tired land birds who aren't built for trans-oceanic flights.  To them the ocean is a hostile environment.  My yacht is a welcome rest from endless hours of wing flapping.

These small solitary landlubber birds mysteriously appear out of the haze, and usually they are hungry, thirsty, and exhausted on arrival.  Since they aren’t seabirds, they aren’t equipped for survival at sea.  These tiny hitchhikers can’t land in the water to rest, and they don’t know how to fish for food.

My yacht is more than a convenient perch for land birds that have lost their way.  It’s a survival platform.  There’s a good chance they will live to see another day when I give them food, water, and a safe place to rest.

My avian guests seem to sense that my yacht is a safe haven – a sanctuary in which the lamb can lay down beside the lion.  These normally skittish birds perch on my shoulder, arm, or finger, and they will eat and drink out of my hand.  They remain on board for a few hours or days before they disappear over the horizon never to be seen by me again.

I’ve learned to be kind to hitchhikers because I too am a hitchhiker.  I hitched my ride on planet earth more than fifty years ago and because of the kindness shown by thousands of people in dozens of different cultures, I too have found safe sanctuary.  When I was hungry, they fed me.  When I was tired, they gave me a place to rest.