Memories at Goosepond Creek

Memories at Goosepond Creek

It was remote, dark and distant, and about as wild and woolly as a place could be. It was a pilgrimage of sorts, this journey of ours. It had been a long time since we had been to "Goosepond." It had been called that since colonial times, and legend held that it had...

Mallard Tornado

Mallard Tornado

Mind-boggling numbers of mallards, mallards like blackbirds, tornadoes of mallards, more mallards than sky. Way down in October, in The Moon of Falling Leaves, me and Joe Merganser on the back loading dock of the farmer’s co-op elevator.  Joe Merganser was full-blood...