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![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaollXZ1WoxdwcoLAr-IRKGwQsj9JiHApJRPc8-8FrQkza3t3p-4pmqdMnAlxMF7tk-1OK1ixqxugCWJLCW87oGTnDYBrD0I_i_urGRdH6T9wQYGfew6KE0glIa2YGjnxg9YjtB3BcMHa6/s200/fishermen.jpg)
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Lest you feel that my morning walks along the Gulf have been absent thoughts about what Alfred Lord Tennyson called, "nature red in tooth and claw," I thought I'd post some of the truth about the beautiful seashore.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65jQhRZEfxyU4jNnAkU08DO6S2fkhrZhTbIIIFy0sJbjIur70zzbfCe06ocl6-IfcNJ8DhPLPq3va7xW1FlZ5Yjun64w-xpaVa1gYdIBxy5IA6Tru7TbHqNMd8S8oL9uj2_m0yTNvFlFS/s200/crab.jpg)
Just above the wave's reach stand fisherman reeling in desperate finned creatures with jagged barbed hooks. And each of these million upon million of shells was once filled with a living creature, now gone. Each birds flight does not end with a happy ending, and maybe T.S. Eliot was wrong to wish, "I should have been a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across the floors of silent seas."
Well, as Eliot also wrote, "I have
heard the mermaids singing, each to each," but I've also heard a barrel-chested sunburnt wag shout, "Honey can you grab me a beer, and the sunblock."
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Of course, then there's the sand Buddha and gator, and suddenly life seems sweet again.
1 comment:
If you're starting to notice the cigarette butts, it's time to come home. We have loads of them, waiting to be photographed! (And lots of nice graffiti and garbage too.)
Vijay
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