Goslings. 5:45 am, May 12, 2023. Stamford, CT. More gosling photos from this morning here.
Tag: Canada Goose
Flight C570 Air Goose
And then, Yes!
Notes:
- As I was driving out of the parking lot, I took one last glance to my right. What is that!?!
- DK @ Daybreak. Cove Island Park. May 12, 2021. 5:59 to 6:06 am.
No.
- Walked around Cove Island Park 3x. And Nothing. Found the two of them, but alone.
- DK @ Daybreak. Photos @ 4:53 to 5:00 am. Cove Island Park. May 12, 2021. 45° F.
Walking. It Ain’t Disney on the Sabbath.
5:50 a.m.
Go ahead, lip sync. I’ll wait. 362 consecutive days. Like in a Row. Morning walk @ Cove Island Park.
I can see her from the parking lot. She’s up. I rush to grab the camera gear, worried that she’s going to plop down again and I’ll miss the shot.
Yet, Something is off.
A raven approaches the nest with his shrill KRAA! KRAA! KRAA!
The male rushes towards it, hissing. Canadians, normally patient, and ever-courteous, can be pushed only so far. Nasty black scavenger, steps back, offers a half-a**ed kraa! and takes watch from a distance. I look around for a stone to join in the defense. Lucky for you Ray, I didn’t find one.
Mother Goose, meanwhile continues to peck away at her nest.
There’s no sign of eggs.
No sign of little ones.
I wait.
And watch.
No eggs. No little ones.
She’s pecking, poking, arranging. And then, she tugs and pulls on what appears to be a fetus, skin color, reddish orange.
I watch for a moment longer. And leave. Can’t watch this.
I walk up to the bridge, the entrance to the park. Take another look from this vantage point. No eggs. No little ones. Maybe they’ll both be gone by the time I return. And some kind soul will sweep the remains of that hardscrabble nest into Long Island Sound.
I walk around the park, not anxious to return to the funeral, and return 30 minutes later.
She’s still poking at her nest. Odd.
The raven has departed, tired of waiting for a free meal.
Her mate is now sitting on the pier. Must be waiting for her to be done grieving so they can move on.
I cross the bridge. Still no sign of any eggs, or little ones. Ever the optimist DK.
I look away. Sad, all of it. Heavy.
I get in the car, and turn up the heater. Cold? 53° F? I can’t bear to keep looking at the scene.
I’m ready to back out of the parking lot, and take one last look. She’s still cleaning her empty nest. What is she doing? Strap on your zoom lens and let’s see what she’s poking at.
I turn off the ignition, and get out of the car.
Camera, super zoom lens affixed, I walk back out to the fence and zoom in on the target…