The marsh grass takes on a golden hue, the water turns the color of honey, and the sunset sky kaleidoscopes from pink to brilliant orange. Sea Lion, our Gulfstar 37, is snugged in tight in a bend of Georgias Crescent River. All is quiet when a loud flapping sound startles me. From the riverbank, six wood storks lift from the limbs of an oak tree. The wingspan of North Americas only stork, now an endangered species, is 51/2 feet. The birds wheel in loose formation, following the curve of the tidal creek. To see a single bird as magnificent as the wood stork is one thing; to see a whole colony is another. With each fading flap of the birds wings, I am reminded powerfully that the world once existed on quite different terms: without taxes or faxes, without highways or political surveys, without the tyranny of news updates or ever-changing fashions.