Had a walk down Leg In Boot Square, today. I was hoping I might come upon Mother’s mysterious brown birds — you know, the big, majestic ones with the small heads, that were sitting up and begging like dogs — but no such luck. A great ugly goose had parked itself right at the water’s edge, and was patrolling the seawall like a sergeant-at-arms, all loud and burly. A-HONK!-two, three, four! MARCH!-two, three, four! Hoo-ah, and what have you. Quite the military bird.
Point of interest: I wasn’t the only one admiring the goose. As I approached carefully, walking on tiptoe to keep my heels from clicking on the cobblestones, I saw an old lady whip out a cell phone and take some pictures of her own. And that’s not all. Everyone who passed by had a look at the goose. People were pointing it out to each other: phoah, hey, look at the size of that goose; too bad Christmas is over, what?
On another note, my attempts to get close to an eagle again, this time with camera in hand, continue to meet with failure. I pursued a nice fat baldie to the end of Moberly Road, and halfway down — what’s the name of that street, you know; there’s an empty lot with trees on it, and a car park, and a lot of…is that Commodore Road? Anyway, I chased it down there a bit, before an area of dense tree cover put the kibosh on my pursuit. Later on, I saw it again, circling high above False Creek, either harassing or being harassed by a pair of gulls. I’m dubbing that bird Larry David, on account of its bald-headed snideyness. Eagle, would it kill you to descend to a camera-accessible altitude? Everyone in my neighbourhood’s going to think I’m weird, stumbling about not looking where I’m going, with my lens trained on this tiny eagle-shaped dot.
Eagle, I’ll get you, yet.