Harbingers of Spring
Friday night when I put my dog up and brought in a fresh load of firewood to beat the coming rains, the sky was slightly overcast with almost no wind. I paused for a moment before going in and caught the sound of the barely audible melodious yodel of a huge flock of Whistler Swans on high, headed back due north off the Chesapeake to the breeding grounds on the frozen tundra, driving hard above the clouds. It has captured me for years as almost a Druid ritual; I hear them in the Fall just after Halloween but well before Thanksgiving, coming South, heralding yet another season on the water and in the fields. We are so blessed!
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