Breakfast on the Beach

Dear You,

Even on a beautiful beach on Cape Cod, breakfast for the gulls is, at best, a beastly business.

The withdrawing waves leave a tide pool, in which silvery fish swim in circles, waiting for the next high tide to move them back to safer, deeper waters. This cycle has not escaped the notice of the gulls, however, and I watch as one hovers and swoops and lifts out a fish to deposit him on the sands, where he proceeds to hack the creature until finally it expires.

The gull is merciless. Great, bloody holes appear in the side of the fish, and with each slash the bird yanks out another hunk of sushi. He looks around for other gulls, meanwhile, knowing his prize could be snatched away if he isn’t ready to defend it. Now and then, another – stronger, perhaps older, certainly quicker – does just that. Screaming, the birds chase each other until the matter is settled.

No bird seems to finish the feast alone. At a point, the one is satisfied and leaves the carcass for the lesser birds to squabble over and finally finish. A bit of head and tail, some bones . . . little is left to represent that shining fish who a few minutes earlier was circling the shallows with his fellows.