They call it Black Friday.
Humans stampede through parking lots and plazas, hunting shiny boxes and blinking screens.
But down at the shore?
We call it The Quiet Day.
Most years, it’s just me – Sal the Seagull – circling above empty beaches, riding the wind like a king with no subjects.
No fries.
No crumbs.
No half-eaten rolls.
Just sand, sky, and my stomach complaining louder than the ocean.
But every Thanksgiving, I dare to dream.
Because somewhere between the pumpkin pie and the political arguments, you humans load up your cars with containers, foil-wrapped mysteries, stuffing balls, mashed potatoes, dinner rolls – treasure.
Absolute treasure.
And I tell my flock:
“One day, they’ll come here after Thanksgiving.
One glorious Black Friday, instead of stampeding into malls, they’ll stampede onto the sand…
with leftovers.”
Imagine it.
Beach blankets unfolding like royal carpets.
Soggy turkey sandwiches dangling at perfect swooping height.
Cranberry sauce glistening in the sun like rubies.
Green bean casseroles abandoned with reckless joy.
A whole coastline of feasts drifting on the breeze.
I’d call upon the winds, the waves, the gulls from Brigantine to Barnegat:
“Brothers! Sisters! A feast has washed ashore!”
But instead…
Humans stay inland.
They chase deals instead of dopamine from salt air.
They choose coupons over clouds.
They trade beaches for big-box battlegrounds.
And so each year I perch on a piling, watching the empty sand and whispering to myself:
“Maybe next year.”
Because the shore always gives,
and the shore always takes,
but Black Friday?
Black Friday has never once given a seagull a decent meal.
Still…
I believe.
One day, a family will say:
“Let’s skip the stores. Let’s go breathe in the Atlantic.”
And they’ll bring a cooler.
Full of treasures.
Full of Thanksgiving magic.
And when they do?
I’ll be ready.
I’ll swoop with grace.
And I’ll finally understand why you call it Black Friday –
because from where I stand, it’ll be the brightest day of the year.
— Sal the Seagull
Official DTSFG Leftover Liaison