A few weeks ago, the local newspaper ran a short article and picture of some swans that live at Cave Hill, but moved over to a lake on a nearby golf course, and I thought a nice sunny Daylight Savings Time afternoon could be well spent at Cave Hill. The geese were noisy, as always. If someone offered them bread, they would turn their backs and swim away. If the offer went to the Mallards, the geese would descend with even louder cries as they chased away the smaller competition for soggy slices of bread. When they hissed, we politely moved to the other side of the road, having learned our lesson when the kids were little.
There were two swans on the main lake and three others on a smaller, more private pond across the road. These three were preening and getting all cleaned up, sticking their heads in the water, scratching an itch, and making sure all their feathers were property oiled and in position. A quick flap or two of the wings insured that every feather was in order.