The crows patrol this creek delta like rent-a-cops at a rock concert. One watches a few feet from the trail as my little dog passes by. Aki ignores it and the other crows policing the area. She doesn’t show any interest in the hundreds of migrating fowl that have stopped here for a top off before moving north. Only a small Kanji formed with found beach rocks intrigues the little dog. She barks, then growls like a Ewok before approaching it with head low. Looking a little foolish, Aki gauges my response to this new trail side shrine and then pads on down the beach.
Around the corner, Barrow goldeneyes are having a blast on the pond—splashing and rising up until almost free of the water and then more splashing. It’s 52 degrees and the sun brightens the dull, death beach grass until it competes with the snow covered mountains and glacier for our attention.