Rotting timber
Upstream…
Campfire site
Campfire site and lake

I have the fondest memories of this campfire site.
We, the islander kids, would come here and have our campfire time, burning bread. That’s right, not toasting, burning. We called bread burned to perfect blackness “galoshes” and ate it with particular satisfaction
Not our island, but clearly the most cramped island I have yet seen
*to be continued*
The Birds are using humanity in order to throw something terrifying at this green pig. And then what happens to us all later, that’s simply not important to them…