Winter’s Swan Song
Mute Swan nesting, Fishers Island
I had been watching her for about 10 days. I walked along the bicycle bridge with a hopeful sense of confidence, that the first day of spring often brings these years; perhaps by now, we just might know each other.
And she had been watching me. Propped upon reeds and rushes her mate has diligently picked and laid within a criss-cross mound ; awaiting her plumping and molding -she is her own warmest down duvet.
He is floating, dabbling, with elegant neck stretched forth gently pulling up plenteous aquatic plants and pond vegetation.
It is the calm before a snow storm-not even a ripple.
For an hour we sit; she on her clutch of eggs, and me on a cold rock.
Perhaps both awaiting the birth-of spring.
– Field Note by Justine Kibbe March 26, 2018
