This morning, the twilight revealed a raft of mackerel clouds, with a pale moon behind. The light wind from the North was chilling as it drifted across the local lake.
As the day progressed, clouds thickened from the Southwest; and this evening, the clouds were heavy, with rain on the way.
I stepped outside a few minutes ago to observe the early night. The clouds are low, and the night is still.
Overhead, I heard the honk of a solitary goose calling to a lost flock. The call was frantic, and I listened until it faded in the distance.
This a first for me. I've heard geese in the night; numerous calls as they flew overhead. It was saddening, and sobering to hear the forlorn call from the single goose. I can only hope it finally finds the flock it lost in its travels.
Here in Minnesota we have a large goose population due to the many lakes and ponds. I have heard the lonesome sound of a single goose overhead many times. The old timers say that geese mate for life and a single goose will call if its mate gets separated from the flock or if the mate dies. Lest we think that goose will remain alone, they will find another mate. It is really a lonesome sound - kind of like the whistle of a train in the distance.
ReplyDeleteThat describes the feeling: "the whistle of a train in the distance" It's a lonely sound.
DeleteHow evocative.
ReplyDeleteHave a happy new year, Jess.
You too, Ed. May you, and yours, find this year a year of happiness and contentment.
DeleteThe short story evoked the proper somberness and contemplative mood... then all I could think of was that lone goose ground into breakfast sausage. He is alone and sad, and I really think this would be for the best for the both of us.
ReplyDeleteI went goose hunting once, during my life. I shot one, seasoned it well, baked it slowly, covered with bacon, and enjoyed the feast.
DeleteFrom a monetary standpoint, it was about $50 a pound, and I'd have preferred chili.