This is our Neighbourhood Park and waterfront. I spend a lot of time here watching a flock of geese march up and down, from the water to land and back. You can find me sitting down amongst the park trees, typing on my laptop, writing the next lines on my science fiction book set in the year 2045. The goose acts like a muse to me, inspiring me to come up with strange tales of fiction, woven around space, metaphysics, unseen and unheard technologies. Goose is singular, geese is plural, and the collective noun is flock, very clear with no confusion, unlike the Moose that has no plural and no collective noun.
I am pretty sure the geese have no idea that they are amusing and musing me when they pass by. They hardly notice me. But I notice them, their necks are tall, held high, their webbed feet wobbling along the green grass. Boy! They sure look mighty confident, without a trace or a slice of worry anywhere. All of them look serious and dead centered on the grass patch far ahead, their next Vege meal.
They also remind me a little of a pack of baby raptor dinosaurs, walking through the Costa Rican jungle. Knowing that these geese are harmless, I smile. They eat fish in the water and grass on the land, which kind of reminds me of eating meat and salad. There are no predators in the park, so no need to worry about these geese. They will all live long and prosper in the parkland. This makes me happy to think that all of them will experience a happy life as they go about their daily routine and chores.
I see a few of them with city tags, meant for observation. It is nice to know the city cares for the birds in the park. None of the park goers hassle these birds. In fact, most of them stop to allow the flock to cross over the board walk. What a caring community! All of this, I observe from my vantage point, under my favourite spot, the tree, as I take a break from my writing.
It is summer, their best time to frolic around, and winter is coming. They will fly away to warmer waters and warmer lands. I will miss them and wait for their return to hear new stories of their far away adventure. I always see the story on their faces as they return each summer, the city tags are still there, they all seem very refreshed, not tired at all, after a very long flight.
Although they never speak to me, I can feel they are all greeting me, as they return to the park after a long winter. I am very sure they recognize me, having seen me every summer sitting under the same tree, writing. I think I can sense a message as they march past me every summer – Hello old friend, thank God it’s summer, nice to see you again, it’s been a while.
I’m trying hard to blog regularly. Let’s see if I can keep at it. It’s a good warm-up for writing.