As the sea birds do

The dawn broke softly over the Isles, twins nestled between a vast aquamarine sea. Gentle waves lapped at the golden sands of the beaches, where crabs scuttled and sea turtles nested under the watchful gaze of the morning sun. Above the shoreline, the air was alive with the calls of seabirds and the steady crashing of the waves on the sandy shores. Airborne, just high enough to evade rocky spires jutting out of the ocean aside the sharp shore cliffside, Orchid drew his circles in the air. His good eye aimed downward, he scanned the rhythmic waves and the movements below. Despite his near artistic movements as he rode the air drafts, he had one goal in mind first: breakfast.

Today his neck and head felt sore and his old scars ached. Some days were worse than others, but he suspects today's pains were likely from past days hunting efforts. It’s better to keep it easy then. Instead of chasing birds or diving after swift fish himself, which just seemed a little too daunting in these early hours, he feels today is more of a scavenging day.

He swooped low over the beach, his keen eye followed the ever-moving line where sand and water met as he flew by. There tends to be days where he just couldn’t bring himself to hunt, but the seasides are bountiful and he was often lucky enough to find fish washed ashore, crabs too slow to scuttle away, or other kinds of scraps and morsels left behind.

A sudden flash of light blinded Orchid for just a second as a shiny glint caught his eye. It isn’t that rare for metal sheets to sweep ashore or be uncovered from the sands. Old relics are often worthwhile checking out! Near a pile of driftwood, his wings catching the salty breeze till he slowed to a stop, his feet touched down on the gravely sands. He landed with a graceful hop, folding his leathery wings against his sides. The shiny object turned out to be an old rotten trap of sorts. It appeared far less impressive on closer inspection.

The old box, the wood mushy and falling apart only leaving the metal frame and knotted ropes intact, was likely used to lure and catch lobsters or other crustaceans, although Orchid wouldn’t know its origin. Resting his front foot on the frame he gave it a good push with his winged limb and toppled it over. The things stuck inside the trap rattled and some scraps fell out from in between the bars. Only broken shells and mere husks of king crabs and lobster trapped in there prior. Seems someone has already gotten to any crustaceans that got trapped or the box stopped working properly ages ago anyhow.

Orchid squawked disappointed, his cracked beak playing around with the shell pieces before discarding them. Now that he was already grounded, he didn’t feel like making the effort to launch himself airborne again. Let’s see what else he can find on the shore.

On his walk along the coast, getting his feet wet occasionally from one or the other overzealous wave touching his toes before retreating, he was disappointed again and again. Sifting through interesting spots in the sand or turning over trash revealed nothing but empty promises. Not unlike a crow in a city, he pulled at plastic bags to rip them open in hopes they held preserved foods inside and tipped over manmade things to see what’s inside.

Poking his beak into the cracks and crevices of swept up driftwood, and abandoned ship hulls, he only found a small cluster of clams and barnacles growing along their surfaces. Not enough to fill him up and not quite to his taste either. Everything else he was hoping to find- scraps, leftovers, easy pieces to pick at or dead beached animals- had already been picked clean by other scavengers like those pesky gulls. Taking one or two clams with him, turning the shells of the mollusks in his beak to crack them open and get to their fleshy insides, he moved on.

As the sun climbed higher, the tapejara decided to explore the other side of the rocky outcrop. The waves crashed against the rocks, sending sprays of salty mist into the air. There, nestled among the rocks, was a rare sight: a sea turtle nest. The eggs, round like ping-pong balls, were partially buried in the sand. Orchid hesitated. He wasn’t above stealing an egg or two, but sea turtles are rare enough and he’s already seen the chaos that ensues once these eggs hatch all in one moment.

On the other wing, the eggs are a rare snack and there are a lot of them in one cluster. One or two or five surely wouldn’t be missed. Besides, since the eggs have not quite been buried deep enough and exposed to keen eyes, if he doesn’t take them, another creature surely will.

After a moment of stalling, he only let out a strained groan. It just wouldn’t feel right. It’s too easy to steal from a nest just because it’s unwatched and free to grab. He decided to leave the nest alone. His hunger just wasn’t big enough to justify betraying his own morals. With a glance to the sky, hoping no greedy seafaring bird gets a glimpse at his treasure, he shoves his beak into the sand and pushes it above the exposed eggs. Burying the eggs again, he was satisfied picking the right choice. Better have these hidden and give the babies a chance when it’s time than rob them from it.

Back to waddling along the shoreline then. Picked bare fishbones and more debris were of fleeting interest and it appears nothing new spawned in the corners he’s wandered before.

Just as he was about to give up and just go through the hassle of properly hunting, Orchid saw a torrent of birds yelling and calling mayhem. Curiosity leading him towards the storm of birds, he pushes himself up into the air again. From the higher vantage point he spotted what caused the tumult. Some poor suchomimus heaved a large shark, Orchid wasn’t too sure which kind, onto land and the seagulls went feral over it.

Pestering a big predator may not be the most graceful approach, but the birds and even other tapes and a handful of tropeognathus circled the skies to get a piece from the dead fish. If he hesitated too long there might not be any left. Strength in numbers he joined the frey, hissing and squawking, as much as his sore throat allowed, all while nipping at the sucho, who mostly just looked like they’d much rather be anywhere else. Ignoring the dozen of creatures pecking them and their well-earned, the large spinosaurid merely tried to carry their loot as far away from the beach as fast as possible.

Orchid managed to gnaw at the shark's fins, gills and eye before the gulls aimed their attacks on intruders like him. Making his rounds between pecking at the sucho’s meal and escaping back up into the crowd of circling birds and pterosaurs, scrap by scrap the shark is being reduced as every creature takes a bite. Even the sucho now decided to abandon the plan to flee, as there’s no escape from so many beating wings, and started to scarf down large pieces of the shark down before there’s nothing left to bring home.

In a way Orchid pitied the dinosaur below even as he was taking what he could get and bickering with enemy birds anyway. Smaller, weaker creatures stealing from bigger predators seemed fair and square enough. This was just a little too fun and rewarding than to stop. He wonders if the sucho would learn from this encounter, remembering that winged creatures outnumber them by the hundreds. Keen eyes easily find easy pickings. 

Another lucky strike for him to arrive early and get a good amount of fish from chasing a larger predator around again. At first he thought he’d have no luck at all this morning, but it appears the day still has plenty to offer.

(1360 words according to Google Docs)