Birds of a Feather

February 15, 1997




At the cove today we noticed another Canada goose who hangs out with the swans. I couldn't discern any visible injury so I wondered if maybe Igor has a mate. Igor looks pretty healthy and he flexes both wings when he preens even though his right wing is a stub.

 

 

 

Everything was flying around overhead. Gulls, swans, geese, wigeons... Only a few swans and Igor and the mallards seemed interested in the breaders. It was such a bright day it seemed like spring despite being a little cold. The male mallards were doing mating displays rearing up and spreading their wings. The females were chasing them. The males were chasing the females. The males were chasing each other and nipping at their tails.

 

The swans were busking more than usual. I've been told busking is a territorial display but these swans were a family group so unlikely to be disputing territory. There's one group of swans that still have the dusky juvenile plumage. They must've hatched later than all the other cygnets who are now indistinguishable from the adults.

February 15, 1996

I stayed up too late last night reading The Cat Who Said Cheese. I'm a sucker for those books. They're like potato chips. You can't read just one. I fail to see how this is going to result in the great American novel.

February 15, 1995

message center

Message center. Notes from all over for people I don't know. No notes for me. What could be so urgent that people have to be reached here in walking and writing practice? What can't wait until people get home? Thomas would not call me here if Steven died this week. Steven told me he does not want a funeral. He does not want people to mourn him. As if we could help it. Funerals are for the living. [rest of entry omitted for protection of Thomas & Steven's privacy].


Previous Entry

Next Entry

Journal Index

Home