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On this narrow spit of land, shell fragments fleck the sand—scallop, quahog, whelk. Last night's dishes. A bind of pipers scampers at the shoreline nibbling crustaceans. In the shallows, jellyfish throb and flicker, taking in copepods, larvae, whatever is at hand. A school of menhaden is pushed to the surface by what must be hungry blues and the sea churns like a pot of boiling water. Dinner is on. An osprey appears on high, barrels down, snatches an unwitting fish from the froth, flies inland for supper. Takeout tonight, honey. Where the sand gives way to green, worker bees stab at shore blooms and a lonestar tick perches on a blade of eelgrass, waiting for a host.

This is an all-you-can-eat establishment. Drinks are on the house. It's a free-for-all. Everyone is feeding. Meanwhile, a human, limbed and loafing, walks the bar of sand, oblivious to the bounty. Heads home for dinner. Maybe a hot dog and some chips.


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