May 3, 2012 |  by

Yesterday evening I was treated to a dusk fly over by a pair of Canada Geese.  The sky was a gorgeous shade of grey-blue and the moon and Venus were paired in the darkening sky.  Their wail reminded me of a wonderful experience two winters past.  One night in early February I could not sleep.  I was about to light the candle by my bed stand, but quickly realized that the moonlight was so bright that I would have no trouble navigating about Weather Hill.  I walked outside and into a frozen world, it was perhaps 2 a.m. and 15 degrees.  Decidedly one of those nights where it is quiet enough to hear the proverbial pin drop.  Before I reached the barn, I heard a very strange sound, incredibly faint.  So faint, it took me time to locate the direction from which it came – at least 35,000 feet above my head.  An enormous flock of Snow Geese, formed in a typical “V” pattern, heading north at an incredible altitude.

Every time I see geese flying  – geese of any type – I get chills.  What is it about them?  I often think of the many paintings and illustrations rendered by Sloane that include ducks or geese.  They seem somehow so steady, to transcend time, unmoved by fad or convenience.  Moving to an unseen rhythm – a peaceful inner cadence that none the less urges action and activity.   I like to think that Eric saw the same thing in geese that he saw in much of the early American.  Perhaps too narrow a comparison to draw, but a compelling one…

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