walk with me wednesday

better late than never..

The "little family" isn’t so little anymore.  The goslings are about the same size as a full grown duck.  Mama and Papa are large.  Canadian geese are big.  They spend their time grazing, much of it in my yard.  I’d chase them away, as dirty as they are, but I have enjoyed watcning them far too much to cause the good parents any additional anxiety.  The kids still mind, without fuss, and quickly.  I’ve learned that communicatin is quiet, wordless.  A flick or twist of the neck, much like that of a belly dancer, sends a message to move this way or that, quickly or get ready, be aware.  A quiet hurrauk means "move now".  They are teaching, I’m learning too.  The little family floats in and away.  I watch as they round a small point of land we call the peninsula.  I decide to find their destination.  Where do they live?  On the pond, of course, the goslings don’t fly yet.  But, where is it that they go when they leave the grassy area.   Do they have a nest?  I know so little about geese.

oops, the muskrat lives here.

  here? or there?

  no feathers to be seen

I don’t find it. I pass the painted turtle who visits my yard to lay her eggs.  She is resting on a log.  I paddle onward.  Wood Ducks scatter and fly out of the pond, frogs jump from the lily pads.  No nest.