Geesepeople

A Report From A Night Paddle...

I’m out by Lake Lancaster, a huge hangout for geese. I swear at one point last winter I popped by head over the spillway and there were thousands of ‘em just doing their thing. A lot of them were trying to be heard over the other lot who were doing the same. 

On this particular evening there were two geese out there chatting it up. They would both go at it for a while then everybody would chime in. All would go quiet for a bit and then one of the first pair would honk away. Then the other would join and the whole thing would repeat itself. 

Something like this - 

G1:You ingrate!

G2: You’re the ingrate!

G1: I know you are, but what am I?

G2: You’re the worst!

All Geese: Noise. Noise. Noise. Noise. Noise.

Silence

G1: Hey, garbagehead! You still there?

And so on, and so on, and so on.

Geesepeople.

Lake Lancaster: Where the geese hang out

Seasoning

The leaves are heavy on the river. They scrape along the side of the kayak and get stuck on the bow where they push the water as we move through it. Occasionally, a curled-up leaf will catch the wind and plot its own course while its water-soaked companions have no choice but to follow the current. 

Ever observant, Jeff will spot a nearby clump of chopped up leaves and grass from someone who lives upstream. To him, they are little monsters or at least something mysterious to keep an eye on. 

Every season has a oh-I-guess-its-whatever-season-now moment. Fall’s is when I first notice the leaves on the river. There are always leaves out there, but when you start to notice them, even if it’s sunny and warm, it’s Fall. 

It makes sense that the beginning of Winter has to do with the temperature and the day that I need to wear ALL of the clothes on the water, and gloves, and a scarf and my long johns is Winter’s arrival. We're not there… yet.  

Back to the leaves for Spring. Winter scours everything off of the trees, but over the course of the season, the trees and bushes produce millions and millions of leaf-buds, waiting for that day when they open ever so slightly. And, bam! The trees all have volume. It’s one of my favorite moments on the river. One day the branches are thin and empty, the next they have weight. Spring is here. 

The first day of river-Summer is an easy one. Shorts and t-shirts. The paddleboard. And Leigh and the crew out getting their chill on Adirondack style in the shallows on the far side of the Conestoga. 

Jeff and Ms. Cha Cha get their chill on too.  

Jeff and Ms. Cha Cha getting their chill on.

Moon Confusion

Out with the full moon tonight. Last night was also a moon paddle - I guess that’s what happens with an early moon and an early sunset. And a full moon. I am seriously laughing to myself at something so ridiculous. Ahhh… the Conestoga!

Usually when I’m out with the moon, I just veg out on the moon; the light, the shadows, the silhouette of the trees - that sort of thing. Tonight, in addition to taking in all of the moon stuff, I tried to think about the location of the moon from the house and justify the two locations with each other. 

Given that I had only traveled our horseshoe, this wasn’t a difficult prospect. But then I extended the exercise. 

I was at that moment near the quarry and from the river there is a pretty good view of the sunset. The best spot for the sunset around here, however, is in County Park just past the Duke Street bridge where the river takes a turn to the East. If you time everything right, spectacular! 

As I drifted, marveling at the whites of the sycamores all sparkled up by the moon, I tried to figure out how this sunset spot and the County Park spot fit together in space. How does that bend at County Park exist given where I thought I was at that moment.  I can basically take myself down an imaginary paddle, but I couldn’t relate the two locations simultaneously. I was confused.

How about you?