Winter sunlight shimmers through the thick tree canopy on the north end of Sapelo Island, backlighting wispy swags of Spanish moss and a Tarzan-like tangle of wild grapevines.
Deer wander here, and feral pigs, armadillos, raccoons and possums.
To the east lie endless miles of ocean. To the west spread vast salt marshes, cut with deep tidal rivers and creeks, that separate the island from the McIntosh County mainland. Cornelia Walker Bailey, a Sapelo native and a resident of the island's small Hog Hammock community, is driving visitors around in a battered Chevy Blazer, talking in her rich contralto voice about the island's past and its possible future. The vehicle squeaks as it pitches over the rutted road, paved only with loose oyster shells dug from shell rings deposited by aboriginal inhabitants thousands of years ago. I can hear them talking to me now.