September 11, 2020. 71° F. The Cove, Stamford, CT (Related Swan posts: Swan1)
Tag: swan1
Walking. With the World all right again…
It’s been a month. I first wrote about them in a post here: Walking. One Short. From Wing to Wing.
Each morning I look for them, and I just see her. And the heart sinks a wee bit… Was he hurt? Predators? I shudder to think…
See her above. That’s yesterday morning. Alone. Head down. (And her Head is blurry. That’s not her tears. That’s the idiot photographer who still can’t get it right, but it’s the best shot of her that he had.)
For most of the last 30 days, she’s off on her own on the edges of The Cove, mostly sleeping. Grieving, I’m sure.
So, this morning, I’m off on my walk, expecting a replay.
I’m halfway on my 5-mile loop, and my eyes scan the water for the snow white coat. Continue reading “Walking. With the World all right again…”
Walking. One Short. From Wing to Wing.
He has to be in his late 70’s, maybe early 80’s, but he’s out each morning walking, in twilight. There’s a handful of us obsessives out at this hour, including me, that strange guy, always in black head to toe, The Camera Guy (as Jim calls me, grateful he’s left ‘Creepy’ out of the prefix).
He has a severe limp when he walks, his right side slumps with each step. Retired Vet, would be my bet. Large, hulking man, must have been fierce in his day. (vs. me still pretending to be fierce, a younger old dog with false teeth, literally and figuratively. At least they don’t clack, yet. Something to look forward to).
We’re on Month 4 here with the morning walks, and despite the crossing of our paths each morning, he would not lift his head to acknowledge me. Perhaps stuck in his head. Perhaps wanting to leave me stuck in mine, which was exactly where I prefer to be. We all send off our own scent don’t we, mine a ‘Black Prickly de Chanel.’
Last week, he broke the silence.
“Do you know if the other Swan is still around? My wife and I were worried.”
I paused for a minute, and not sure exactly why I lied, but I did. I did notice her partner had been absent for a week or so, but I just didn’t have it in me to tell him. Or, perhaps I didn’t want to believe he was gone. Like Gone, Gone.
“Yes, he’s down by the bridge at the end of The Cove.” Continue reading “Walking. One Short. From Wing to Wing.”