It’s the seventy-third anniversary of the Normandy invasion that eventually led to the end of World War II. Aki and I are rounding False Outer Point during an outgoing tide. Nothing about the scene inspires memories of D Day except the eagles that make my little dog nervous. During our approach to the point, an adult bald eagle, white head bold against the spruce where it roosts, dives toward the water with talons extended in the fishing position. But it carries nothing back to its roost. Aki gives me her “are you crazy?” look but still follows me around the point.
A flood tide forced us to rock climb around each headland the last time we made this trip. That day ended for me at the local urgent care facility where a doc-in-a-box stitched closed a cut I received after slipping on razor sharp shale. Today, with the tide on the ebb, we have an easy passage. Four eagles make lazy circles above the beach after the point but Aki doesn’t seem to notice. The resident crows notice us. One takes up station on the top of a driftwood root wad and polices our passage back into the woods.