<P> "The Star Thrower" (or "starfish story") is part of a 16 - page essay of the same name by Loren Eiseley (1907--1977), published in 1969 in The Unexpected Universe . The Star Thrower is also the title of a 1978 anthology of Eiseley's works (including the essay), which he completed shortly before his death . </P> <P> The story describes the narrator walking along the beach early one morning in the pre-dawn twilight, when he sees a man picking up a starfish off the sand and throwing it into the sea . The narrator is observant and subtle, but skeptical; he has seen many "collectors" on the beach, killing countless sea creatures for their shells . Some excerpts: </P> <Table> <Tr> <Td> "</Td> <Td> In a pool of sand and silt a starfish had thrust its arms up stiffly and was holding its body away from the stifling mud . <P> "It's still alive," I ventured . </P> <P> "Yes," he said, and with a quick yet gentle movement he picked up the star and spun it over my head and far out into the sea . It sunk in a burst of spume, and the waters roared once more . </P> <P>... "There are not many who come this far," I said, groping in a sudden embarrassment for words . "Do you collect?" </P> <P> "Only like this," he said softly, gesturing amidst the wreckage of the shore . "And only for the living ." He stooped again, oblivious of my curiosity, and skipped another star neatly across the water . "The stars," he said, "throw well . One can help them ." </P> <P>... "I do not collect," I said uncomfortably, the wind beating at my garments . "Neither the living nor the dead . I gave it up a long time ago . Death is the only successful collector ." </P> </Td> <Td>" </Td> </Tr> <Tr> <Td_colspan="3">--The Star Thrower, p. 172 </Td> </Tr> </Table> <Tr> <Td> "</Td> <Td> In a pool of sand and silt a starfish had thrust its arms up stiffly and was holding its body away from the stifling mud . <P> "It's still alive," I ventured . </P> <P> "Yes," he said, and with a quick yet gentle movement he picked up the star and spun it over my head and far out into the sea . It sunk in a burst of spume, and the waters roared once more . </P> <P>... "There are not many who come this far," I said, groping in a sudden embarrassment for words . "Do you collect?" </P> <P> "Only like this," he said softly, gesturing amidst the wreckage of the shore . "And only for the living ." He stooped again, oblivious of my curiosity, and skipped another star neatly across the water . "The stars," he said, "throw well . One can help them ." </P> <P>... "I do not collect," I said uncomfortably, the wind beating at my garments . "Neither the living nor the dead . I gave it up a long time ago . Death is the only successful collector ." </P> </Td> <Td>" </Td> </Tr>

The starfish story original story by loren eiseley