One warm afternoon, I was standing waist-deep in the Gulf when this very dignified white crane came strutting down the shoreline like he owned the entire beach. Beige sand behind him, gray sand beneath him, blue waves in front of him—he clearly chose the best runway for his walk. He paused, looked straight at me, and gave me that thoughtful, slightly judgmental crane stare. I could practically hear him wondering what it must be like to be a person. Meanwhile, I was wondering what it would be like to be a crane—calm, elegant, and absolutely certain that the world is your personal red carpet. We both nodded politely, and then he went back to inspecting the tide for snacks.