Took the kids to skip rocks under the Broad Street bridge, and the river smelled extra briny, like low tide mixed with mud. Down the path, a utility truck had its boom extended over a slick, silver-gray shape along the bank. It was wider than our picnic table and had a long tail curling into the shallows. Seeing it slinged up by straps felt like a scene from a documentary.
Folks clustered by the guardrail, debating: sturgeon? ray? Someone claimed it was a fake for a festival. The boom creaked as they eased it onto a trailer laid with thick rubber mats…