BAREFOOT BEACH

A man went for a walk on the beach one morning. It was foggy; it stormed the night before but the sea was quiet, only low rollers sliding up on the sand. It must have been a big storm, there were thousands of star fish washed up high and dry with no way down to the water. Up the beach, in the fog, he saw a little boy throwing star fish back into the surf. When he got there, he asked the boy what he thought he was doing. Of course, the boy told him he was rescuing star fish, putting them back in the water. The man told the boy, “Nature has its own way of keeping a balance. There are enough star fish so there will always be plenty, even when so many get washed up on the beach. So what you’re doing, really doesn’t matter.” The boy turned a star over so its under side was up; “See these rows of short, little threads; they are the star’s feet and if you can still see them, it’s still alive.” Then he threw it out beyond an incoming wave. “It matters to that one,” he said. “It matters to that one too,” as he threw another one back. The man walked on up the beach and as he put distance between himself and the boy he heard him repeating, “It matters to this one.” 

We went to Barefoot Beach yesterday to walk the beach and watch the sun set, between Fort Myers and Naples, Florida. We put our chairs down then headed down the beach, noticing people carrying star fish. My friend asked a lady where she got the stars and the lady nodded down beach toward Naples and said, “They’re all over the beach down there, it’s not far” Sure enough, we started seeing sea stars. Some were washing up under incoming waves while others were waiting for a foamy peak and a gentle undertow to pull them back to the sea. I took some photographs but after you have a dozen good shots of sea stars, you start watching shore birds. I took 299 photos yesterday. After the first edit I had it cut down to about 50 and finally I’m left with about 25 shots form Barefoot Beach. 

The tide was coming in and what had been a great spot was awash with every 5th or 6th wave. I looked down and there were two, very much alive sea stars beside my chair. Phylum Echinodermata, normally 5 appendages with radial symmetry, they have the amazing ability to regenerate lost or damaged body parts. If we could do that and you wanted a twin brother or sister, you could split yourself into two halves and both halves would regenerate the missing half. And, yes; I was a biology teacher for a very long time. I sailed the two sea stars back out into the shallows, knowing they would likely wash up a little later, a little farther down the line. I heard a voice about the same time I saw the man. He was old; this time of year in Naples, we’re all old. He wore his skinny legs and little pot belly like his red badge of courage. “They’re already dead. . . or they’ll die anyway.” I thought about the boy in the story but I didn’t say anything; it’s not my job. But I did think to my self; “If you fell out of the boat I’d throw you a rope but who’s more worthy, you or the star, I don’t know."

The sun was low, almost to the horizon and its reflection was painted out on the water in a reddish-gold swatch, too bright to look at. Down beach, I noticed a silhouette on the water, moving our way. I got the camera up and waited for it to clear the glare on the water. “Click-click-click-click-click-click.” Even through the lens and the bad light, I couldn’t mistake that big bill, the wing tips and the classic glide. I’m more familiar with, more partial to Louisiana pelicans but this one was mighty fine. One of the clicks was good enough to keep.