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Sweet Spring Cacophony


ca·coph·o·ny
/kəˈkäfənē/
noun
  1. a harsh discordant mixture of sounds.
    "a cacophony of deafening alarm bells"

Spring is a clashing of momentous sounds, and sights...but none quite so remarkable right now as the melodious tones of the Cedar Waxwings in the trees, mixed with the honking and trumpeting of the geese, and swans along with the querulous quacking of the ducks. I was fortunate one evening to witness the beauty of natures pilots as they mingled, and soared into the evening sky. The beautiful bird song in the background is the Cedar Waxwings behind where I was standing. 






It was cold enough to make me realize that spring is only a date on the calendar here as I burrowed my hands deeper into the pockets of my downfill jacket during my walk last night...

...I deeply regretted leaving my gloves behind.

The fallow unused fields stretched out in front of me, white snow mingled with black mud puddles creating an absolute delight for the daily masses of Trumpeter Swans, Canada Geese, and Mallard Ducks crowding it like kids on a playground.

The sun had just started it's evening slide into the mouth of the dark blue mountain...

...a ritual that happens every night, the lingering light glamorously golden tinged with seashell pink highlights.

The geese and swans had already departed for safer accommodations that night.

With an unquacked signal, the sky suddenly went black as hundreds of rising wings moved together as one feathered flock.

The coral and pink sunset glowed in the space between the birds while the dark mountains rimmed the edge of the sky.

There was an enormous sound of beating wings and air whistling shrilly between feathers as the mallards circled upward catching air currents, gaining altitude, gracefully circling as one giant being at times.

A spectacle backed by the soundtrack of Cedar Waxwings contentedly perched in the giant weeping willows behind me.

My heart beat fast, frozen fingers slowed down and I couldn't capture the darkness temporarily covering the sky, I couldn't film its intense beauty.

Me, an audience of one woman standing on the edge of a field, shivering, holding her cell phone in her cold hands knowing how special this moment was.

The ducks circled, and swept themselves up into the sky repeatedly, some unseen signal prompting them to suddenly depart the earth for the safety of the air.

And as the sun left the earth, and the sky darkened into gloom...

...I made my way home.

Jen @ Rural



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