Tern Island Sanctuary
The falling tide is a smelly one as I navigate the surrounding shoals of Tern Island. The sanctuary itself is abuzz with nesting terns, darting and diving about Sea Gypsy in defense of their eggs. The island is small and will probably disappear in my lifetime, be it tomorrow or fifty years from tomorrow. At one time, the island housed a community of summer cabins now lost to the wind and the waves.
I pass the osprey nest set high atop an abandoned telephone pole stationed midway on the island. Made of large branches and blackened twigs, the nest gives the impression of a deep-bellied bowl sculpted by Edgar Allan Poe. As kids, we used to sail out and crawl along our bellies on the hot sand to see which of us could get close enough to touch the pole. The sea eagle wou
