THE OFF-SEASON.(The Talk of the Town; Cape Cod after the tourist season)

Ever wonder what goes on up on the Cape when all the summer people are long gone, settled for the winter back in their metropolis? Nothing world-shaking, but the world is shaking enough, wouldn't you say? I'll start with blackbirds: Just before I packed up myself, in late September, I looked out the window and hundreds (and I mean hundreds) were settled on the lawn, turning it into a mass of darkness against a gray sky and fallen leaves. And then, just as suddenly, they all flew off somewhere (Paris? Las Vegas?), leaving the lawn empty except for a lone tortoise, an ancient creature who was present at the inauguration of John Adams. That tortoise has been making his way across my lawn for years now, one millimetre at a time.

Come fall, we are a village again--just a couple of thousand folks, down to the hard core from the sixfold or sevenfold swelling of the summer months. Of course, the ocean (Atlantic) is still there, pounding away, and soon after everyone left, with the hurricane season acting up, that mighty sea was a sight to behold: churning waves, a monumental roar, and a sense that what is left (not much) of the famed Wellfleet dunes would be washing away, perhaps taking the entire Cape along with it.

Main Street is dreary. The drugstore has departed the town for good. So has the newspaper store. You can get the Times at the local grocery or delivered in waterproof blue plastic bags. Restaurants: everything closed but a few year-round joints. The big, popular Moby Dick's on Route 6 is shut tight. Finest fried oyster on the Cape. Fresh seafood every day, including small, succulent Wellfleet oysters by the dozen. (Queen Victoria is said to have had Wellfleets shipped to her, wrapped in seaweed, in barrels.) During peak season, the lines stretch around Moby Dick's like those anticipating the return of Broderick and Lane. The owners, Todd and Mignon Barry, are hands-on: they watch every ...