Mulling things on my morning ramble with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
Two Canada geese waddled around the grass near the south old clay pit as the meathead and I crossed the side tracks to the town pond.
They acted like they had goslings, but when I veered toward them, there were none.
A pair of geese swam on the north pit, but I couldn't see any goslings with them either.
Ah, but there, just off the island of the south pit, a pair had five goslings between them. A bit farther away, another pair had three goslings.
Finally, some goslings. I was beginning to think something had happened to the geese this year.
Set off this morning in my jean shorts for what I believe is the first time since October.
Two gray squirrels scattered from our neighbor's feeder by her bushes. Starlings made their eclectic mix of noises all around. Robins everywhere. For such a beautiful morning, fewer mourning doves cooed than usual.
It was so nice, I did a detour to check if any morels were up at my second best spot. Decipher that if you can.
An American coot scooted off from the south end of the north pit. As usual, red-winged blackbirds ringed the north pit in a wall of trilling.
Male cardinal bounced off into the brush near the boat launch.
Back home, two doves fluttered off from the ground under the bird feeder on the front porch.
It was time.
For jean shorts. For goslings.