March 30: Matched pair

A pair of geese--probably the same pair as last year--has a nest near my office. I think it's somewhere along the shore of the river near the access road to the Seabright Dam, but I haven't wanted to go seeking it out. I'm sure the constant traffic of town vehicles to access the dam, dog walkers, fishermen, and then in warmer weather, swimmers, harasses them enough. But while I've conscientiously kept my distance, I've been very aware of their renewed presence this past week. One or both of them always seem to be there, beady black eyes on the lookout, those sleek black heads and necks every so often rising like periscopes on the lookout. They probably pay as much attention to our goings-on as we do theirs. There's something I find inexplicably comforting about their presence, despite their aura of intense alertness. Perhaps grazing animals of any sort--and these big birds do seem to spend most of their time heads down, poking around in the grass--have a pastoral effect on a landscape.

Our neighbors, the geese,
keep a close watch on us all.
Eggs are so fragile.