The fisherman had barely lifted his line when the squawking began. One pelican flapped and strutted, claiming the catch as his own, while the other sidled closer with a sly glance at the bucket. The old man only shook his head, a smile tugging at his beard — they’d rehearsed this dance a hundred times before. Out on the dock, with the waves crashing and the lighthouse watching, the day’s bounty was never his alone. It was always a matter of negotiations — and the pelicans usually had the louder voice.