This is in response to the ‘Ballad of the Banned Dog’ in the Nov. 6 letter “Beaches less joyful without dogs at play.”
The Ballad of the Beleaguered Bird
I fly low along the shore; searching in vain for a safe space to land. Finding none, I take refuge in a tree overlooking the stretch of beach I call home. And I wait.
I patiently watch as the dogs race back and forth. Back and forth. Their owners chatting, texting, taking photos. And I wait.
At last, a moment of quiet. And I take my chance. Swooping down to the water’s edge, I begin my hunt. But I am not the only hunter on the beach today. The dog comes fast, and with only seconds to spare I lift off. Back to my tree. And I wait
Minutes pass by. Then hours. And I wait. I try again to feed but my efforts are thwarted. I return to my nest, tired and hungry. And I wait.
I wait for the day when humans realize that I do not have an owner to care for me, nor feed my hunger. And I wait.