We live at the edge of the continent here in Paradise Cove. Our street ends at the bluff and from there it's a sheer drop to the Pacific below. Some mornings, you can see all the way to downtown. Others, a wall of fog creeps up the cliff, seeps down the streets, mutes light and sound.

These days, in this fretful, restless heat-soaked spring, you never know what wildlife you'll see. Coyotes panting in the grass, great white egrets dancing on the roof, a trio of ducks on the deck, working out the two-boys one-girl mating math. And now, a dozen double-crested cormorants roosting in a eucalyptus tree. (As usual, thank you to Bill Schmoker for the ID)

You have to stand still for a good, long time to see them all, but bit by bit, with a flap and a rustle and a sigh, they reveal themselves. This one took off just a second after I focused the camera, flew so close I felt the breeze from its wings.