Neap Tide, Low Swell, Rain

No surf to speak of, rain on and off. No beached birds.

James Island and Little James Island from the beach along Rialto Jetty (Click for larger image.)

An eagle comes in off the ocean, carrying a gull; lands on a drift log; immediately begins tearing at the carcass (if indeed it's dead yet), tossing aside feathers.

Eagle standing on his prey, Rialto Beach. (Color adjusted for visibility, it was much foggier than this.)

I watch the wrack carefully: fresh bits of seaweeds, green red brown. Thin sheets of red bright from a distance, becoming undistinguished close to; rockweed pops underfoot.

It's ridiculous that I can't figure out what sort of seaweed this is... (Click for larger image.)

Very little trash—the tide of marine debris which washed in from the North Pacific garbage patch in April and May has been pulled away again, or buried in the rising summer beach. Ellen Creek is ponded behind the fresh berm. I wander up and down the slope of my two assigned segments of Rialto Beach, Rialto Jetty and Ellen Creek, looking for beached birds. It's summer in what is after all a National Park: there are footprints absolutely everywhere.