It was twenty-two degrees, this morning, as Melissa and I rounded the lake, which has frozen over completely. A park crew has trimmed back the Willow scrub and trees which surround the lake. The gulls and the Canada geese still come and go. Some days not a bird in sight. Other days, twenty, thirty, fifty of them -- gulls and geese alike -- sit or stand in close-knit clutches atop the ice; a gathering of sorts -- perhaps social, perhaps chance.
I cannot believe I'm actually becoming intersted in the myriad of bird species that call the lake home through the seasons. And -- for what it's worth -- the gulls appear to be Glaucous-Winged Gulls; the geese are, of course, Canadian, eh!
What actually captured my interest initially, was a flock of very black, medium-sized birds with red (almost orange) feathers on the sides of their chest that would, this past spring and summer, rummage about the tops of the tall reeds on the west end of the lake during sunrise and chatter and squawk to one another to beat the band; like spinsters in the kitchen preparing a Thanksgiving meal. Well, I've discovered these black birds are, most likely, Red-Winged Crows. It surprised me that these were actually crows, as they are significantly smaller than their completely black cousins. When they return from wherever they've gone, I'll get some pictures and post them. (Betcha' can't wait!)
Our morning run is only about a mile and a quarter. I haven't attempted to extend that much. Melissa is, afterall, eleven and is having some hip problems (aren't we all once we pass fifty!). We do still walk at noon and again for two miles when David gets home from work.
So, this turned out to be a rather lazy post. It's just what I needed, though, after the furious verbiage of several earlier posts which, perhaps, on reflection, may mirror an ego taking itself too seriously.
Taking a step back once in a while is a good thing.
Peace.
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