Rest Stop

I’ve been spending a lot of time down by the lake since I last posted. You know how much water means to me - it soothes me, centers me, heals me. The fact that there is now a place so close to my home where I can go get in touch with those elemental forces means so much. If you turn your face into the wind, it is almost like the ocean. Not the smell of salt, but the unmistakable scent of a large body of water and with the beach there, sometimes, it's mingled with the smell of sand and it feels almost like home.

Lately, something interesting has been happening down by Sugar Beach. There are geese. A lot of geese.

I first noticed it Saturday, seeing small groups of them swimming around close to shore. This is new - all summer, I've seen only seagulls and the occasional duck (well, there was that Cormorant, too). Geese don't tend to hang in this neighborhood, so having recently discovered the fascinating in birdwatching, I set about doing just that. It was a beautiful day, a bright sun in clear skies and low enough that the water sparkled with a brilliance never seen in a princess cut solitaire and in between the sparkles, little groups of geese came paddling by

I wandered around the area and in the small, quiet harbor between the beach and the sugar factory where sometimes, great container ships from far away are docked, taking on loads of sugar, more were gathering. Two groups, sometimes three

The next day, I was back and so were they. I saw them flying in, sometimes a few together, sometimes only one at a time, landing in the water - not always gracefully, the weight of the goose can create quite a splash - and joining others already there. And there were a lot there, both in the water and up on the narrow dock above, nestled close to the factory

They seem to stay in the smaller groups in which they came in first, gathering over by the sugar factory side of the small harbor, getting acquainted, jostling for space, making conversation and sometimes arguments would break out about who got to be where. The honking of them was a beautiful soundtrack to a beautiful day.

Apparently I need a Steadicam 

Eventually, they would iron out their differences, decide which group to join and there was an ever evolving flow of integration, blending and growth.

Even the sailboats got into the spirit of things and bunched up in a flock

And then, when the time was right - and I never did figure out how they made that decision - a group would take off over a silvery lake to parts unknown.

According to Google, the Canada goose doesn't migrate until ice forms on bodies of water, but they are going someplace and they all know about it. Near as I can figure, Sugar Beach is a rest stop on the journey. If the weather holds, I'll be back down there today to check on their progress.