The snow geese came through this morning. I was bringing the dog back in when they came a-calling and a-calling down the sky: tens of them, hundreds of them, V-formation after V-formation. I wasn’t sure at first; we have Canada geese all the time, from the swamps and ponds on three sides to the harvested corn fields, sometimes in our harvested hay field and, alas, to the new rye planted as a cover crop across the road. (I think about half the rye survived.)
But these were white with black wing-tips, flying in smooth formation, all coming from the north and heading, I think, for the swamp below the farm across the road. I think their voices are a little softer than those of the Canada geese, a bit more like a squeaky toy.
We saw them last Fall too, feeding in the corn stubble across the road. Didn’t see them in the Spring, but it’s so much a matter of luck. Gotta be home and outside at the right moments.
Our tenant told us to expect them, they come every year. He grew up on this property, in this house; his parents and grandparents lived here, and so did his children and grandchildren until he sold it to us. When we acquired the farm we acquired the farmer as well, and it’s been good for both of us. And this morning the snow geese flew over.