Lord Jesus, think on me well, for I built a shippe for your animals. Yet those people did not come aboard. They stayed wretched and drunk even as the storm approached and I was left alone with the beasts. When all was still I let your raven fly in search of some dry haven. It brought me back an olive branch that I held tearfully to my breast. At that moment I saw a rainbow and all was well. How blessed and safe we felt. But I see clouds building on the horizon.
It was not the 100 million tonne North Atlantic Garbage Patch, which covered hundreds of miles of ocean, that most shocked Jack, a northern pike from Saskatchewan, on arriving in what we term the present. Nor was it that he could hardly catch sight of a cod off the coast of Newfoundland, or that crabs and shrimps had moved in to make the region their home. No. It was that all the remaining fish had become so small. Yeah, said one, we’re about a quarter smaller than we used to be, but the sea’s nice and warm now isn’t it?