It was a peacefully serene afternoon on the shore of Cape May. There was a faint sound of children running across the warm sand, laughing and playing. The waves splashed, pulling back and forth forming the gentle tide. Bits of color from large umbrellas decorated the ground, vacationing patrons resting their eyes underneath. Wind carried a calming breeze, accompanied by an easing salty scent, all across the beach. Starving, a small seabird paced on the sand, looking for a meal. The bird glided through the air, looking down on the vast Atlantic. He searched for anything small that may be on the ocean surface or somehow brushed up on the shore. A small, shiny jellyfish caught his eye. Filled with glee, the bird swooped down towards the beached fish. He engulfed his food in a few motions, feeling every edge and corner of his lunch. He appreciated every moment he got to eat, not knowing when he might get to again. It was hard to come across anything some weeks, and he had to eat to survive. 

“Look,” a passerby chuckled, pointing over at the boardwalk. Her friend peered up, not sure exactly what she was to be looking at. 

“That dumb bird just ate a plastic bag.”