By the Thousands

Two blocks North of our home sits a huge field complete with an irrigation ditch and a massive oak tree.  A bald eagle screams down it's blood curdling cry whenever I walk there and blue herons, cranes, and geese are frequent visitors.

Every summer, corn is grown in the field and is harvested in one fell swoop, possibly for the dairy across the street.

Three weeks ago, the tractors arrived and harvested the corn.  

The next day, Canadian Geese started gathering by the thousands for a giant jamboree. 

They mucked about in the muddy field nibbling on fallen corn kernels and chatted about life like a group of senior citizens with their hearing aids turned off.  

Whenever anyone came too close, they launched into the air with a collective thunder of wings and flew in a pulsating cloud while yelling at the intruder.

Then the temperature dropped one night to 24 degrees and locked the corn kernels in the frozen mud and the Canadian Geese flew over our house in massive screaming V's.  Barnaby and The Assistant barked out the back window at the passing birds.  And I felt winter arrive with their departure.