Dive Bomb

At the end of the day a hawksbill turtle goes up for air, and comes back down.

It is the shape of the shell that gives it away: the serrated edge, the overlapping plates that were once worth more than the animal. It breathes at the surface for a few seconds and then drops, head first, flippers wide, straight at whoever is below.

This one came down at dusk on the last day of May 2010, on a coast where you walk into the water from the shore and stay until the light goes. The last of the daylight has been shut out on purpose. A fast shutter kills the surface glow, so two strobes, set close to the lens, carry the shell alone. The turtle looks lit from within. It is lit from the front, by somebody it was about to land on.