Aki searches among the Treadwell ruins, her gray curls absorbing the morning drizzle. When we break out onto the beach, she dashes to the base of a faded piling, attracted by a raven singing a song of few notes. The raven shows no fear or even acknowledgement of the little dog’s presence. Aki looks at me, like she needs direction for her next action. I vote with my feet, walk down beach where an eyeless carcass of a dog salmon lays rotting on the sand. It is a male with its jaw wide open, as if to bite the tail of a rival on the spawning beds.

Even though it ocean bright colors— silver, red, green—have faded and its skin has the texture of a wet newspaper, it is a beautiful thing. I take a few pictures and wonder if the raven isn’t waiting for us to leave so he can have the dog salmon for lunch