There’s that time on the dock just before you step aboard where you’re not sure what next is going to happen. The time from the alarm going off to the steady effort to move towards the car and navigate to this point seemed to double back on itself, as the water couldn’t get there fast enough.
Then you’re there, and the juice feels kind of like the opening kick-off and you’re watching the ball sail through the air waiting for that first collision. You’re visualizing in your mind how it’s all going to go down based on past experience, but you really have no idea.
The bird on the piling, if he were capable of higher levels of thought, would probably mock your concept of chasing fish. Fun? This is survival, man. But as it stands he doesn’t even notice you’re there until somebody cranks the outboard. And then you idle away and he’s back waiting for the little baitfish around the piling to make a mistake, indifferent to whether your time comes to pass.