Annual outing with students to Malone, New York to see thousands of Snow Geese during their migration south from the Arctic. (Also thousands of Canada Geese and a chance to see Cackling and Ross’s Geese as well). Such a blast!
(p.s. this is not a silent video, the geese are quite loud for immersive experience) #birding#birdmigration#geese#SnowGeese#NewYork#Adirondacks
I'm writing this morning from an undisclosed location on the outskirts of Houston, Texas. A big house on a lake. We’re staying with some in-laws for a few days—well, they’re my in-laws, and a couple of them are my wife’s in-laws. That’s how it goes with in-laws, I suppose. I think it’s the law.
Last night, a flock of snow geese descended just behind the house. I felt both thrilled and let down—thrilled by their arrival, let down by the darkness that kept my camera silent. They mingled quietly on the grass near the lake’s edge, like spectral guests at a moonlit gathering. Except for the honking. I don’t think ghosts honk. Do they?
I tried to get a photo, but the light refused to cooperate. I considered stepping beyond the small wrought iron fence to get closer, but something told me that was a bad idea. Snow geese are sizable creatures, and they’ve been known to go on the offensive—me thinks. It’s one of those lessons I learned the smart way: through someone else’s misfortune.
Yesterday morning, I dropped Charlie at the veterinarian’s office. It tugged at the heartstrings. He didn’t want to stay—propped himself up on my lap, tried to make a break for the door and the car. I’ll feel better when I pick him up in a few days.
The house is beginning to stir. Footsteps, voices, the subtle shift in atmosphere that signals coffee and quiet time are drawing to a close.
“Family is not an important thing. It’s everything.” — Michael J. Fox
“How do geese know when to fly to the sun? Who tells them the seasons? … There is a voice within, if only we would listen.” — Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
“The bond with a dog is as lasting as the ties of this earth can ever be.” — Konrad Lorenz
"A luminous moon commands the frame, its surface etched with ancient memory. Captured on the evening of October 8, 2025, the photograph reveals the Moon in its Waning Gibbous phase, still nearly full, with 95% illumination casting a soft silver glow across the night. Craters ripple across the terrain like fossilized echoes, while dark maria stretch like ink stains on a parchment of stone. Bright rays fan outward from impact sites, resembling frozen bursts of light or the delicate veins of a pressed leaf. The Moon’s curvature is crisp, its texture almost tactile—like weathered marble burnished by time.