The tide is over, explosing a beach along the edge of the Fish Creek Pond. If it wasn’t pouring down rain, I’d be tempted to go home and bring back a fishing rod. Even as I stand on the pond’s edge, more and more salmon are moving from Fish Creek into the pond.
To get to the pond, the salmon had to swim past four bald eagles that cluched together on a creek-side willow. I can still hear the salmon make their splashy way past the eagles. The big birds ignore them, like they ignore Aki and I. They must already be full.