Bashakill

The morning issued an invitation to come out of doors and explore. The early breezes carried to us the fragrances of spring encouraging us to come out from under the barricade of our house and explore nature… The overcast sky made it a perfect time for meandering the roads and trails around Bashakill Marsh
The day offered new trails to explore. Rambles through canopied pathways, the new leaves creating a haze of gold and green lace draping over our heads.
The old favorite haunts were filled with marsh plants unfolding bright new leaves in the filtered sunlight. Through the marsh grasses and reeds red-winged black birds’ songs echo as they call to one another.
In the distance we see the pair of Mute Swans that have chosen to make their summer home in the marsh. We admire their beauty and poise as they sit majestically on the water and then in turn we fret and grumble because it seems at least one of them always has its head in the water, thwarting our most persistent efforts to get a picture of them posed together. They feed on submerged aquatic vegetation, reached with their long necks.

Toward the middle of the ponds we can see Canada Geese nesting in grassy hillocks. As we wander along the edges of the marsh there is a continual splat, splat, ker-splat as frogs leap from their places in the sun to hide out under lily pads.

Further out the Mute Swans’ nests are situated on large mounds of sticks, twigs and grasses that they build in the middle of this shallow lake-like marsh.
Our attention is suddenly drawn to a deep, loudly resonating, slow and rhythmic “whump, whump, whump …” as the swans abruptly take to the air and begin circling over the marsh like a pair of air show pilots navigating their planes in close formation over the valley. Again and again they circle around, passing overhead with the awesome, “whump, whump, whump” of their powerful wing beats. From a distance the wing-beats make musical throbbing or humming sound which can be heard from a long way off. As they circle directly overhead the sound is closer to that of a helicopter.

What grace and beauty ---

WILD SWANS
I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over.
And what did I see I had not seen before?
Only a question less or a question more;
Nothing to match the flight of wild birds flying.
Tiresome heart, forever living and dying,
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
---Edna St. Vincent Millay