Foraging Zone
Stand with a thin fabric of sea lettuce—
hold it up to the light—
See this beach for the habitat it is.
I am living in this archipelago
in the land-sea interface,
the marine shoreline, on this old island
among sea stars and black turnstones pecking
for breakfast among intertidal rocks.
I walk among barnacles and mussels,
not like a black bear crunching shore crabs,
but a wanderer taking in the wonder
of the sea milkwort and Lyngbye’s sedge.
The world, according to this beach,
is a parallel universe
beside the glow of phones and TV—
All the noise of us.
Here, I’m the resident vertebrate,
both herbivore and predator.
Here, the Seaweed Folk,
some call them bull-kelp,
rolled up with tide, washed up with tails
ripped from seafloor in yet another storm
and now rest at my dogs’ feet.
I’ve hollowed bull kelp
to make drinking cups and rattles.
I’ve dried them, pickled them,
chopped them to eat.
Now, like deer, bear, and geese, I forage
and fill my basket
with the goose tongue, beach spinach,
glasswort, traveling across this universe
in my rubber boots,
like the Old Tide Lady—and look, there’s a raven walking this way.
VIVIAN FAITH PRESCOTT was born and raised on the small island of Wrangell, Alaska, Kaachxana.áak’w, in Southeast Alaska on the land of the Shtax’heen Kwáan. Read more.