The view from the bridge

It was overcast and still as I crossed the Beaver River in the valley below my home. The water was very low, lower than I've seen it ever, large hummocks of tree roots usually hidden, now visible and attainable for geese or other water birds to nest.

This does not bode well for the summer. We had little to no snow to replenish the river and the ground now is dusty and dry. Farmers have already begun to plant fields and the winter wheat crop has been frozen white at its tips from the perpetual night killing frosts.But I enjoy standing at the edge of the bridge, camera in hand and just listening. A goose honks somewhere behind me and the answering cry echoes eerily along the water. The peace and stillness is amazing. Then I see something:

Is it mink? A muskrat? A weasel? A tiny beaver? I have no clue and after it goes under the bridge it ducks under the water.

I watch and watch and after about five minutes I see it about 50 yards away down the river. I'm not sure another video will show it heading into the bank. But what a treat.

I turn my attention back to the other side of the river and see a goose swimming towards the edge of the river. Once again it is too far away to get a really good view of its movement, but the haunting calls of geese and the silence fills me with peace.