They come by dawn’s early light
Just past Five am, they do an extended aerial search,
though well familiar with the shoreline and our oppo
campsites, they fly over in formation noisily debating,
which hunting grounds seem most secure, least guarded.
the scouts, numbering six, descend to the far edge of an
adjoining neighbor’s property, as always, remaining close
to the water’s edge, while the main body of these ghastly,
geesely beasts, numbering today a massive force of 42, land and storm our beach, after traversing up the earthen berms that buffer the bulkhead, and that also provides them a out-of-sight, surreptitious, secretive approach to the fresh green grass, that has emerged from two days of much needed sky watering.
Our preparations are at the ready, the old faux velvet slippers by the door, next to it our weapon of choice, a white parasol, most suitable for a tour group of tourists to follow, but this day, it is an extension of a waving arm and low growling. Once the bevy of heads are espied bobbing spotted coming over the rise that downward slopes to the beach, the battle commences!
The two forces well known to each other, we advance slowly,
with a deliberate mien on our faces and in our step, and the enmity, I mean enemy, sees us coming and the alert is squawked, and all heads raised. they the geese, are in full dress fight or flee modality.
We get within but a few paces when they squeak retreat, and in good order march to the beach, hoping to observe us in an early retreat and plan a sneaky return. But we proceed closer and they beat their wings and head to safety, and seeing us close observing their action, wisely to the water go.
But we know them well. Uncannily uncanny, they pretend to hide evasively, with semi-wounded pride nursed, while under the cover afforded by the dock. Yet, seeing our presence in attentive attention, go forth finally to a safe distance to the wide, broad Peconic Bay.
But this day is not yet over, for these foul fowl, counting upon human laziness and the appeal of a quick victory, paddle over to our other neighbor’s unguarded land mass and start to clamber up onto dry land 100 yards further east.
We gamely observe and realize furthest action now required,
descend to the beach, each side warily observing, regrouping.
Our approach is well kenned, and the enemy decides this day their cause is lost, and to the water retreat once more, heading around the bend, onwards to Shell Beach and West Neck Harbor.
As we return to our encampment, the bunny rabbits who,live beneath the deck emerge to give us glorious applause, for love no lost tween these two mismatched species of the same Kingdom, who share the appetite for the grasses greenest nutrients, though the geese leave their dreaded cluster bombs most unpleasant, and fully ravage the grass as if it was theirs alone.
The rabbits bring us coffee in porcelain mugs, steaming hot, for they have witnessed before this dance, most progressive, this charade of derring do, and love the quietude of the early morning, happy to share it with the itinerant beach walkers of the early hours and our
Dawn Patrol.
We drink in our victory in deep and hot, and note per doctors orders, that our heart rate never exceeded 125 beats per minute, as ordered.
Sunday Jul 25
Silver Beach Armed Forces (SBAF!)
Peconic Beach Division
Officer Natalino (his official code name]
p.s. For reasons mysterious and unknown, our earbuds play a victory much most apropos, Act Ii: Dances of the Swan by Tchaikovsky
p.p.s. the next they returned with reenforcements, sixty strong in all, some with
attitude,refusing to budge, unti almost face smacked…but they retreated and I watched them away,for the morning was glorious, orange clouds, reflecting the sun light arising, from behind my back…a pale blue hued sky of an aquamarine, and I secretly (shhhh) thanked then **** geese for waking and taking me lit to watch immobile the birthing of a beautiful, temperate day…
P.P.P.S. If you look to the map on the left, the battle ground is clear and visible!
