The First Day of March

The first day of March, Town Meeting Day in most New England towns and though the temperature is still in the 20's the sun is melting the snow on the roads, pooling up great inland seas, giving birth to ruts, and reminding us that not only is Spring just around the corner, but so is mud season. The ole Subaru Outback shimmied and slid and sloshed it's way around the roads and survived unscathed. The sugar shacks are stoking up, saps being gathered into galvanized pails or through those ugly, life support plastic tubes, and soon trucks will be transporting the white nectar up and down the road to be boiled down to lovely, multi-colored syrups. Yum. The sun is bright and hopeful, giving the land and the snow and Shmuel (most specifically Shmuel as I peer out the back windows) a promising, self satisfied glow.

Speaking of Shmuel, he's been going through a transformation of late which I think is part of the whole siring cycle. The other day a friend came by to bid on some tree removal over by our pond and he let his 3 year old dog out for a good run. The dog has a lot of tearing about puppy energy in him and it was only a matter of time until his curiosity got the best of him and he ventured up to give the geese a look see. Now the geese are pretty well penned up, no one can get in and they can't get out. The dog trotted up to their pen and Shmuel, after getting the girls to the back of the pen, came out like a Chinese Warlord, wings spread high and wide and in the midst of this display a fierce, hissing head. Very impressive. Great theatre. And it did the trick. The dog high tailed it away in short order. I was very proud. But Shmuel gave me a bit of that Karate Kid display just about an hour ago when I went up to fill their grower pellet feed can and clean their pen. Egg laying is going to be taking place very soon now and this has to be the grand protector coming out in him. I've been catching him hopping on the girls. There will be a squawk and stir from the pen and I rush to make sure a predator's not about and there's Shmuel on top of someone - can't make out who - wrenching their neck into position with his beak and then mounting them like some Wagnerian Goose Prince. It's very weird and clumsy and wonderful, all at the same time. I'm not sure whether or not the 2 times I've seen him/them "do it" that it's been successful, but the girl gets up from being flattened and flaps her wings. Does that mean "it was good for me" in goose? I guess.

I'm gonna grab a coffee and take a little walk in the slowly dying light before shepherding the turkeys back to their pen. Be of good cheer!!