Homer is a small, pleasant town, built on a long pale slatey beach that rings like a bell when the waves rattle the rocks, with a flower-festooned shrine to those lost at sea, and all sorts of fine art galleries and artists' communes and a health food store and a weaving supply store, and stained-glass windows in most buildings depicting sea life and storms. The artists wear long drapey clothing in all the colors of the sea in sunlight or dress like fishermen in paint-spattered flannel shirts and jeans.
Apparently it's not just the humans into weird lifestyles here. We see eight bald eagles who have decided they want to grow up to be seagulls. They squabble over fish guts spilled on docks, steal fish from the decks of fishing boats, and even squawk just like the gulls. Their feathers are filthy. They fight over who gets to sit on the lamp posts, and walk around on the beach, leaving great gaping clawed footprints. The seagulls aren't afraid of the eagles, and the eagles aren't afraid of humans. One of them sits on the beach for half an hour while I walk in diminishing spirals around him, trying to get good pictures. When he finally gets bored and flies off, scattering sand everywhere, I walk over to where he was sitting, and see that he was apparently digging in the sand. Huh?