The groundhog was right


Blooming crocus, turkey buzzards and robin red-breast signal the early arrival of spring this year.  One abnormally warm day in early March, I visited a near-by state park for a run followed by an invigorating dip in the lake.  My run took me on a new trail overlooking the bog.  As I neared the end of the bog path, an alien wailing hoot stopped me.  My attention ripped from the roots and rocks at my feet and out onto the lake.  There, floating like downy feathers on tannin-black water, were ninety-two tundra swans.

The run and swim forgotten – replaced with the memory of this one afternoon.