Daredevil

The shore was noisy this afternoon, with waves crashing on the rocks, tossing stones on the beach, spray pattering on logs and trashed seaweeds, with the rattle of stones rolling back down the beach as the waves retreated. The tide was going out, and the ocean didn't seem happy about it.

And in all the commotion, this little sparrow hopped about, carefree, just out of reach of the latest wave, picking invisible goodies off the rocks, probably tiny snails.

The rocks are wet from the last wave; they'll catch the next. But the bird will be elsewhere by then.

With tossed debris. Nothing to eat here; he returned, after the next wave, to the rocks.

At Willow Point.