Tiny flocks gather on the shore. A slow migration in miniature.
Hatchling turtles make it to seas edge and skim shallow waves over the sand on their backs. Boatbird whispers toward the thousands of shell-backs surging into the beginning of life, Ahh, I remember that race.
And immediately then he saw a different way.
And knew he would make the other birds see.
And use his beak to quietly open the doors that housed his family.
He tied boatstings to the anchor of his belief and stepped bravely out of the water.
He would find them, his family.
And build nests big enough for all the home-seeker birds. And their children.
Boatbird leans in held up by the slipstream of waves. Rests on the weight of too much leaving and steadies himself for staying.