Tinfoil

I heard a thin metallic scraping from my hotel room balcony this morning in San Francisco. Peeking through the curtain, I watched a seagull the size of a mailbox investigate the large sheet of tinfoil that had covered my bowl of room-service clam chowder from dinner last night. Apparently a creamy seafood residue remained because once the gull got a grip on the foil, he alighted unsteadily with his shiny treasure towards the Bay Bridge.