Back to the Fill

Finally, had a lunch break again after 10 weeks. Walked down to the Fill, my ears assaulted by my least favorite sound in the world: chainsaws. They take away the wild. If anything is brought into replace the native tree, it's some well-behaved, proper, hybrid or otherwise non-native, ecological wasteland, killing nature's soul, bit by bit. Attempting to tame her into a neat and tidy submission.

Since I was last here, the barn swallows have returned as well. The air is populated by swallows, crows, dragonflies and the occasional (looks wrong every way I spell it) low-flying duck. In the distance soft calls of red-wings and other birds hiding in the cat-tails. The turtles are out sunning themselves in droves, and a massive gathering of Canadian geese is floating just off shore: must be 30-40 altogether. Another cottonwood has fallen. It blocks access to the water as well as the pathway.

It's hot in the Fill. A cool breeze blows lightly from the water, a little bit of relief. It shakes the leaves of the aspens, softly. The grasses are tall now, make me feel dwarfed by comparison. The pond where I'd seen the virginia rail last year has dried up already, green with plant growth, cracked mud underneath. Swallowtails flutter past again and again, and then an eagle swoops over head. Not hunting, the ducks don't seem concerned, just flying for pleasure. It disappears from view. I hear the clock chime in the distance, and wander back up the hill. Break over.