Fish Oil

The day before yesterday we walked here along the harbour wall at Seaton which you can see running along the foot of the cliffs on the left. The estuary of the Axe runs past the cottages and into the sea round a shingle bar in the top of the picture. The neap incoming tide was approaching it's height.
We stopped and I looked down into the water. It was teeming with what I first thought were fish, then realised were eels because of the way they swam. Millions and millions of them. As I watched, fascinated by this spectacle of nature I saw shoals of tiny irridescent fish, much smaller than the eels which appeared and disappeared in sparkling, glittering little shimmers of coloured light.
Two boys fished for crabs, intent only on their dangling lines.
A young man approached who I guessed was a real fisherman. His face was tanned by the salt air and sun and he looked like he was a boatman. His cap bore the logo FISH. He had strong features and an intelligent, but friendly look about him with . A face you instantly knew belonged to someone you could rely on in an emergency. The face of a man whose character was moulded by the sea, the elements and respect for nature.
I greeted him and asked him if they were eels."Yes" he replied, and he seemed pleased at my interest. "But not the eels you think," he continued, reading my mind "not the Sargasso sea eels that grow large and live in our rivers. These are sand eels and what you see is as big as they get. The tiny brightly coloured shoals are what they eat. Out in the sea beyond the harbour entrance the bass and other larger fish wait to eat the eels in turn. This year is a good year and  that's why there are so many."
I thanked him for the information and we walked on.
 So they were just part of a food chain, bigger eating smaller eating miniscule. To be born to be eaten or eat, to breed if lucky and to die. I'm glad they put on such a display, just for me.
I hope BP don't ever drill for oil round these parts.