11 December 2024 (early twilight)

early twilight

ducks in flight lost

in the river’s dark

1 June 2024 (whale watch)

whale watch —

a pair of surf scoters

outpaces the boat

1 January 2024 (first day)

first day . . .

the surfacing scaup

tosses back a mussel

16 November 2023 (fading light)

fading light

two ducks in the river

become rocks

7 March 2023 (distant thunder)

distant thunder

the teal’s reflection

fractured by cattails

December 18: Upriver

Snow falling fast

I can barely make out

two ducks flying upriver

July 4: Fireworks

Watching ducks flush

over the harbor

by the light of fireworks.

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March 10: Wild ducks

Whistling wings

of ducks flying over.

I look up from the mail.

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February 24: Afternoon fog

From out of the fog

a flock of ducks

also following Route One.

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November 25: Chickawaukie

Across the lake

drifting shapes of ducks

disappear into the mist.

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December 7: Day at the beach

This morning I birded with my friend Derek at Reid State Park, which features two lovely, long, sandy beaches washed by sparkling surf. At one point in our ramble up the strand, a very loud ship's horn sounded. We later learned that this noise came from a new stealth destroyer that had just launched and was headed out to open ocean from the Kennebec River. Earlier, we had seen people standing on the Bath bridge looking down on Bath Ironworks, where the ship had been built, obviously waiting for the launch. Derek had commented then that it cost over $1 billion to build; hard to reconcile a toy of war with such a bright and peaceful winter's day.

 

morning beach walk

we scan for sea ducks

new destroyer slips out to sea

 

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