There’s shit all over the beach here because of the birds. The birds shit everywhere as they fly, swoop and swoosh in from every which way in the hopes of capturing a fish in between landing boats and loading trucks right on the sand as the tide rolls out. It’s for survival. Some birds like dead fish. Some like them fresh. Some don’t care. The birds serve as cleaners going after the messes left by errant fishermen. Guts and scales all get devoured with nothing but the bone to dry in the sun. Ok some don’t like the heads. Who would? Fish eyes don’t look tasty even to most birds. But there are tales of survival. Those stories go farther than others, and deeper than an everyday struggle. It’s survival of generations in a constant battle with nature and the elements and man and changing times. How do the birds survive? En masse.