A Sliver of Dark on a White Day

Friday, the winds were whipping the snow sideways across Lily Lake, so hard that the opposite shore was a blur. The lake itself was frozen and blanketed in snow. To the south, Longs and Meeker peaks were hidden in a  shroud of white. It seemed impossible that there would be any life on a day like this.

It’s far different in summer, when mallards and other ducks cover the pond, while muskrats ply the surface, and salamanders gather in the shallows. In mid-summer, the dragonflies emerge and produce a great fluttering above the water. But today, everything is buried in white, smothered under layers of snow. The fish and salamanders are deep down, in suspended animation, while the muskrats snore away the winter in their burrows.

But then I heard what appeared to be geese, a familiar sound on the plains in winter but not in the mountains. I noticed that one sliver of the lake was open, a dark slice among the overwhelming white. As I got closer, I could see maybe seven or eight geese standing on the edge of the water or in the water itself. They looked smaller than the Canada geese that fill the fields around my house in Boulder, and, after consulting with a bird guide, I concluded they could be a subspecies called cackling geese, which are not common in Colorado.

So what are they doing here? Especially since one mile below, near Estes Park, several lakes have open water and the air temperature is at least 10 degrees warmer. Lily Lake lies about 1,400 feet above the valley that holds the town of Estes Park. At the lake, where I’m surrounded by a blizzard, I can look north and down to the valley where the sun is shining and the hills are brown and bare.

Surely, anyone or anything that could fly would leave this seemingly lifeless and cold place and head to lower elevations for the warmth and sun. But perhaps these cackling geese, if that’s what they are, have been chased away by the larger Canada geese that frequent the warmer Lake Estes and St. Mary’s Lake in the valley. Or perhaps these geese, which live most of their lives in Canada and Alaska, find this harsh landscape more familiar.

For whatever reason they have landed in my corner of the world on this day, I’m glad to see them, heartened to see some exuberant life on this seemingly lifeless day.

Comments

[Sally]

Sometimes they end up out of place. We had an Asian Duck a few years ago. Same thing. But guess these things happen, they get blown off course!

[shoney]

Love the photos and the name; Cackling Geese...

[Jennifer Woodhull]

When I was back in South Africa after my years in Colorado, among the many things I missed was the sound and sight of the Canada geese that on occasion virtually covered the entire sky from my vantage point in Louisville. There's something about them that still makes me stupidly happy whenever I catch a glimpse or hear their cries—"harsh and exciting," as Mary Oliver noted.