The gulls take off, land, wheel and call above the beach, and sometime stand about in loose pairs or threes or small groups. The plovers and sanderlings dart up and down the sand, in and out of the surf, rarely pausing much at all. The willetts wade, solitary and stately through the edge of the surf.

The terns gather. They stand in close ranks, their big orange beaks all pointing out to sea, their eyes directed toward the horizon. But, of course, there’s always one that turns its head just when you’re about to capture the perfect photo!

I always wonder what is going through their minds as they stand there. And even though they are mute, they speak to me of the power of gathering, of unity, of strength in numbers.