You are on a May pelagic trip off Bodega Bay. You reach the continental shelf, and suddenly the chummed oil slick is joined by one, two, 25, 50, perhaps even 500 incoming bombers: majestic, graceful Black-footed Albatrosses. They splay their feet and eagerly scatter the screeching gulls in search of a morsel of popcorn or suet. Some of them have bleached heads, some are in fresh plumage, some have begun their molt, and others have tattered wings.