An Eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly atop a zinnia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
EVERY TIME I SPOTA BUTTERFLY, joy surges through me. There’s something about the flitting flight of a butterfly that captivates me.
But it’s more than that. I appreciate how these insects appear so carefree, as if their very existence is simply to bring beauty and joy into the world. And maybe it is.
The butterfly perches among my favorite garden flowers, zinnias. My mom planted zinnia seeds when I was growing up on the farm. Zinnias are easy to grow from seed, are prolific, hardy and colorful. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
In recent days, I’ve observed two swallowtail butterflies, one black, the other yellow, among the phlox growing wild in my flowerbeds. And some 10 days ago I photographed an Eastern tiger swallowtail atop a zinnia at the Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Garden in Faribault.
That well-tended garden has become a new favorite oasis for me within the city limits. On the Sunday afternoon I visited the garden, I found friends Paula and Ed already there, resting on a bench. Paula was involved early on with development of this garden. She no longer is, but remains an active gardener. Paula was the one who spotted the swallowtail among the zinnias.
Per her direction, I headed to the zinnia patch to photograph the yellow swallowtail with wings outlined in black, splotches of blue and orange adding to the coloring.
Black-bordered wings are nearly wide open atop a zinnia. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
The swallowtail perched, unhurried atop the yellow-centered pink flower. I had plenty of time to snap multiple frames. That’s often not the case with butterflies.
That butterflies survive a four-stage life cycle from egg to larva (caterpillar) to pupa (chrysalis) to adult butterfly impresses me. At any one stage, a predator could end their lives. But yet, here was this beautiful butterfly among the zinnias. Like the final verse in a lovely summer poem.
TELL ME: What do you appreciate about butterflies? Do you have a favorite?
The picturesque Faribault Mill along the Cannon River in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
THE RIVERS RUN THROUGH, the Cannon and the Straight converging on Faribault’s north side at Two Rivers Park.
A view of the Cannon River looking west while standing on the walkway over the dam next to Father Slevin Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
The history, the founding of my southeastern Minnesota community is channeled through these waterways. In the history of the Dakota who first called this place home. In the history of the fur traders, including town founder Alexander Faribault, who settled along and traveled the rivers. In the history of flour mills and sawmills and the renowned Faribault Woolen Mill, established in 1865.
There’s a buffer of plants along the shores of the Cannon in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
Whenever I walk the Northern Link Trail in North Alexander Park along the Cannon River Reservoir, I pause to view the 1892 Faribault Mill. Often I photograph this iconic brick building aside the appropriately-named Woolen Mill Dam. I appreciate this long-standing business, still operating today, weaving fine woolen blankets and more that have garnered national respect for quality craftsmanship.
Ghost signs on the Faribault Mill along the Cannon River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
Ghost signs on the building’s exterior remind me of this mill’s long history here, along the river, by the dam.
There’s a notable absence of water at this dam on the Cannon River in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
A grassy patch away, a second dam manages river flow next to Father Slevin Park. But when I last visited the area on August 7, I saw bare concrete with only a trickle of water leaking through boards at that smaller dam. Rather than rushing water defining this place, stagnant ponding water defines it.
The drying river bed and stagnant water below the dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
I observed green algae and litter on the water’s surface. I observed exposed rocks and plants growing where water should flow. All are evidence of the drought conditions we are experiencing here in southern Minnesota. We’ve had some rain since I paused beside the dam. But not enough to totally compensate for the lack of moisture.
Fishing in the Cannon River at Father Slevin Park near the Woolen Mill Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
Typically, anglers frequent the river banks below this particular dam. But not now. Not in this summer of drought. These dry weather conditions plague so many locations across the country and world as the effects of climate change continue. One need only look to the West, to the decades of drought, the wildfires and the ever-growing tensions over water to understand the crisis.
I’ve seen more grasshoppers this year than in recent years, including this one among plants on the Cannon River bank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
Locally, low river levels visually remind me that we are not untouched by evolving weather patterns. There was a time when I held a heightened awareness of weather as my farmer father looked to the sky, waiting for rain clouds to open, to drench his corn and soybean fields. I remember the summer of 1976 when he purchased boxcar loads of hay from Montana to feed our livestock. Worry defined that summer.
I spotted this buoy tucked next to a corner of the dam, hugging the shore above the dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo August 2022)
And now worry edges into my thoughts as I observe the stillness. No sound of rushing water. No sight of rushing water. Only the exposed concrete dam and the stagnant water pooling below.
Fishing at the base of the Lake Zumbro Dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
WATER RUSHES IN A SHEET over the dam, a powerful wall of water spilling from the 600-acre Lake Zumbro reservoir into the river below by Mac’s Park Place & Campground in rural Mazeppa.
An overview of the dam and fishing area next to Mac’s. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Mac’s Park Place by the Zumbro River and dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
The 100-plus year-old powerhouse. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Until several months ago, I was unaware of this hydroelectric generating plant along the Zumbro River in southeastern Minnesota. But Randy and I discovered the Rochester Public Utilities facility after turning off Wabasha County Road 21 onto a gravel road that led us to Mac’s at the base of the dam.
The Lake Zumbro hydroelectric dam. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
I stood in awe of this structure with a spillway spanning 440 feet and a height of 55 feet. Constructed beginning in 1917 and operating since 1919 under ownership of the RPU, this hydroelectric generating plant is on the National Register of Historic Places. It’s truly an amazing feat of engineering and construction. Renowned engineer Hugh L. Cooper led the project.
A hillside of trees hugs the bank of the Zumbro River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Not only are the dam and powerhouse impressive, but so is the natural setting in the backwoods of the river valley. Here trees fill the hillside across the Zumbro from Mac’s. In the greening of spring, when we visited, the scene was wild, scenic, beautiful. I expect autumn would yield a hillside flaming in color.
Fishing below the Lake Zumbro Dam on a Saturday afternoon. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
An angler’s gear, beverages, etc. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Fishing along the grassy river bank. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
On a Saturday afternoon in May, anglers angled for fish in the placid river, the roaring dam nearby, dwarfing their size. Access to this seemingly popular fishing spot comes via Mac’s, which charges a fee for non-campers.
Fishing near that powerful wall of rushing water. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Angling in the Zumbro River. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
There’s power here, in this wall of water. I heard it, saw it, felt it.
This rock formation in the Zumbro River caught my eye. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
But then I experienced the power, too, that comes with this natural setting. The power to quiet the spirit in the placid river, the rock formations, the tree-filled hillside… The Zumbro River can be harnessed, but not tamed. There’s an undeniable wildness in this place that yields peace.
A quick snapshot I took of Mac’s Park Place roadside sign through the passenger side window of our van. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
BACK COUNTRY ROADS often lead to interesting discoveries. Places that reveal America at its grassroots basic. Such is the road leading to Mac’s Park Place. And such is Mac’s.
It was the homemade sign posted along Wabasha County Road 21, which winds through the Zumbro River Valley, that caught the attention of Randy during a day trip in southeastern Minnesota. I missed the sign sporting an angler and a fish along with a list of all Mac’s offers:
BEER
BURGERS
RV CAMPING
FISHING
PULL TABS
That roadside signage was enough to make Randy reverse course and aim down a gravel road to Mac’s Park Place along 406th Avenue, rural Mazeppa. The restaurant/bar/campground is located between Mazeppa and Oronoco along the Zumbro River.
This is an area lovely in natural beauty. Winding river. A bit of backwoods wild. The ideal setting for a place like Mac’s, perhaps not widely-known to those without connections to the area.
Check back to see what I saw along the route to Mac’s, and then at Mac’s. I wondered at some point if we should continue on, not quite knowing what we were driving into…
Following the Wahpekuta Trail (albeit incorrectly spelled) at Sakatah Lake State Park, rural Waterville, Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
IF I WAS TO CLIMB the hill behind my house through the tangle of weeds, wildflowers and woods, I would reach Wapacuta Park. But it’s easier to take the street and then the mowed hillside to this Faribault city park.
Years ago, this was the go-to spot for our family—for the kids to zoom down the towering slide and scale the massive rock in the summer and to slide down the sledding hill in the winter. Today it’s a place to occasionally take the grandkids to play on the updated playground.
My research shows this sign at Sakatah Lake State Park should be spelled differently, as Wahpehkute. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
A posted map of the park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
To the west, along Minnesota State Highway 60 between Faribault and Waterville, Sakatah Lake State Park also reflects the Dakota influence in its name. The native Dakota called the land thereon Sakatah or “singing hills” in their native language.
Native peoples sourced water directly from the Sakatah lakes, unlike here via a water pump. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
The Sakatah Singing Hills State Trail runs through the park for three miles. That trail spans 39 miles from Faribault to Mankato, another Dakota-sourced name correctly spelled Mahkato, meaning “greenish blue earth.” Mankato is the site of the largest mass execution in US history with 38 Dakota hung on December 26, 1862, after the US-Dakota War of 1862. It is a horrible atrocity in our state’s history and one which, to this day, remains unknown to too many Minnesotans.
Southern Minnesota lakes are typically polluted/green, not sky-tinted. Here the fishing pier at Sakatah State Park is inaccessible, not linked to land, due to excessive ice damage last winter. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
We are a state with many location names tracing back to the Dakota—Mankato, Wabasha, Wabasso, Sleepy Eye, Winona, Winnebago… Even the name Minnesota comes from the Dakota Mnisota, meaning “sky-tinted waters” and referencing the Minnesota River.
I saw several motorboats on the lake at Sakatah. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
On a mid-June visit to Sakatah Lake State Park, rural Waterville, I thought about the Dakota who lived on this land, including at a village on the point separating Upper Sakatah and Lower Sakatah Lakes. I imagined the Wahpekute gliding across the lakes in canoes, angling for fish in these waters.
Mushrooms cling to a tree in the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
Then, as I followed the Wahpekuta Trail, I wondered about hunting and berry picking and perhaps mushroom gathering in the denseness of woods.
The Sakatah campgrounds fill quickly, like many Minnesota state parks. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
And, instead of campers in these trees, I imagined tipis.
We have much to learn as we follow the trails of history.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
I have much to learn about the Wahpekute. But at least I hold basic knowledge of their early presence here, of their importance in the history of this place I call home.
Next to the conservation building, with an historic church and school in the background, the Teaching Gardens grace the Rice County Fairgrounds.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
AT THE RICE COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS in Faribault, an unexpected oasis brings nature into a setting of buildings, grandstand and roadways. It’s a welcome respite, this Rice County Master Gardeners Teaching Gardens.
I love the “tree stump” water feature that blends so naturally into the garden. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
On a Sunday in early July, Randy and I packed a picnic lunch and set out for the fairgrounds garden, a place we haven’t previously lunched. There we settled onto a fountain-side shaded bench, the soothing rush of water creating a peaceful ambiance.
Clematis. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Sedum. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Lilies. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Afterwards, I ambled through these gardens, admiring the plants and blooming flowers. Clematis climbing an arbor. Sedum. Hosta. Lilies and roses and Pig Squeak. Masses of milkweed for monarch caterpillars. Eggplant, prickly pear cactus, Mugo pine and much more.
An overview of the gardens with vegetables in the foreground. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
If you’re into gardening, and even if you’re not, this compact garden patch showcases a wide variety of plants that are beautiful to behold. Some are grown as seed trial plants for the University of Minnesota.
The Seed Library. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Seed packets inside the library.(Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
There’s a seed library, too, with packets of seeds tucked into a tiny red house similar to a Little Free Library.
Informational signage in the gardens. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Strategically-placed signs identify plants and provide information about gardening in general. This is, after all, a teaching garden.
The milkweed patch with the Rice County Historical Society in the background. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
Roses. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
I believe these are onions gone to seed. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo July 2022)
But for me, these gardens proved primarily a spot to retreat for a bit, to immerse myself in a place that feels restful, soothing, calming. Connecting to nature, whether in a natural or cultivated setting always, always renews my spirit.
TELL ME: Have you found a similar oasis mini garden where you live?
Please check back for more photos from this lovely teaching garden in additional posts.
The clothespins I use are weathered by years of exposure to the Minnesota elements. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
HANGING LAUNDRY OUTDOORS on the clothesline rates as an enjoyable activity for me, not a chore. Several times a week I unwind three lines, string them across the patio and clip laundry pulled from a clothes basket placed on the back steps. It’s pretty routine. I place heavier items in the full morning sun, sometimes shift clothing as the sun moves in the progression of the day.
A tabletop fountain on my patio features bird art. Birds sometimes drink water from the fountain. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
The rhythm of pulling, clipping, pulling, clipping, is calming, soothing. I notice the sky, the weather. Hear birds above the drone of traffic. Feel the sun on my face.
I hang my clothespin bag, open side in, to the side of the house. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
I feel, too, a connection to the past, to all those women who, without dryers, relied on the sun and the wind to dry their laundry. Women who were saving energy and money long before that became an environmental and financial concern.
I discovered a jumble of clothespins and twigs inside the clothespin bag. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
A few weeks back, my normal routine of pinning laundry onto the clotheslines proved anything but routine. When I reached into the faded dress-shaped clothespin bag crafted by my dad’s cousin Lindy, I felt something other than clothespins. I felt twigs. Lots and lots and lots of twigs.
I never leave the bag fully exposed when I’m not hanging laundry. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
I removed the bag, which I always hang with the opening placed inward against the side of the house, to investigate. I spilled the contents onto the back steps to reveal a pile of twigs, the makings of a bird’s nest. In less than two days, a bird had managed to somehow maneuver a stash of short sticks into the bag. How? I don’t know given the bag opened flat against the house. I do admire that bird’s determination and hard work.
I always keep the open side of the bag turned flush to the house, not exposed as shown here. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo June 2022)
But…I didn’t want a nest, broken eggs and baby birds among my clothespins. I felt some guilt in dismantling the under construction nest. Not enough, though, to cause me to refill the bag with clothespins and twigs and turn the bag to allow that bird easier access.
TELL ME: Would you have done the same as me, or allowed a bird to nest in a clothespin bag? No right or wrong answer here. Do you hang laundry outdoors?
Photographed from the public dock at Rice Lake State Park, rural Owatonna. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2020)
IT PAYS TO CHECK OUT community bulletin boards, like the one at my local library. While perusing the paper postings at Buckham Memorial Library on Saturday, I discovered information about free passes to Minnesota state parks. Anything free piques my interest, especially as inflation rises and most of us are trying to save money, me included.
The Minnesota Department of Natural Resources is collaborating with regional public library systems (and two affiliated libraries) across the state to offer free 7-day park passes. Simply go to a participating library (check the DNR website), check out a pass and you can visit a state park for free. Without the pass, entry to a Minnesota state park costs $7 daily or $35 for a year.
The sign welcoming visitors to Nerstrand Big Woods State Park, known for its beautiful fall colors. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo September 2013)
My library in Faribault has three park passes, first-come, first-served. The number of passes available at a library ranges from one to four, depending on community size. After seven days the checked out pass expires and cannot be renewed.
A chipmunk spotted at Rice Lake State Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2020)
So why offer these free passes? According to the DNR website, the goal is “to provide a way for Minnesotans living in low-income communities across the state to visit state parks without the financial burden of an entry fee.” Low income is defined as “where the median annual household income is $58,000 and/or schools nearby the library have more than 40% of students enrolled in the federal free and reduced lunch program.” That definitely fits Faribault. No proof of income is required for anyone checking out a pass.
I am thrilled that the DNR and libraries in qualifying communities are teaming up to offer these free passes. Any program that gets individuals and families exploring the outdoors is a good thing. And to visit a state park at no cost, especially if you are on a tight budget, can make all the difference on whether such an outing is possible.
Well-kept and well-traveled paths take hikers deep into Nerstrand Big Woods, a must-see park, especially in autumn. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo October 2011)
Other participating libraries in my immediate area include those in Owatonna, Waseca and Blooming Prairie. We have several state parks nearby: Nerstrand Big Woods, Sakatah Lake and Rice Lake.
This free park pass program, which just began in June and will continue through June 2025, reminds me of a similar program available to library patrons in the metro. Through Metropolitan Library Service Agency, an alliance of 101 public libraries in the 7-county Twin Cities metro, residents can access free or discounted admission to arts experiences via a smARTpass. The list of participating arts groups is extensive, but includes the Minneapolis Institute of Art, The Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra, the American Swedish Institute and many more, for example.
I’d love to see something like this in rural Minnesota. We have many wonderful museums/history centers, theaters and arts centers that are not necessarily accessible to all because of cost. (Note that most area arts centers offer free admission to their galleries.) Just as getting individuals and families outdoors and into our state parks is important, so is experiencing the arts and learning about area history. Perhaps some day we’ll get there. We’re off to a good start now with the free state park pass program.
In Pine Island, site of the “Borrow-A-Bike program. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
NOTHING IN LIFE is free. How often have you heard or read that adage? I expect often enough to recognize that statement mostly always rings true.
Details on borrowing a bike in Pine Island. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
But in the southeastern Minnesota community of Pine Island, located along busy US Highway 52 some 10 minutes north of Rochester, there is, indeed, something offered for free. And that’s the use of a bicycle to ride the Douglas State Trail.
The bike borrowing building is next to the parking lot at Trailhead City Park. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
When I recently photographed the Borrow-A-Bike signs posted on a lovely aged brick building by Pine Island Trailhead City Park, I assumed the bikes were available for rent, because, you know, nothing is free. Turns out I was wrong.
Biking the Douglas State Trail in Pine Island. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Since 2009, the city has offered locals and visitors free usage of a fleet of bikes to ride the 12.5-mile paved recreational trail between Pine Island and northwest Rochester. The 70 donated, restored and maintained bikes are available in all sizes and even include some tandem bikes. Note that kids need signed authorization by a parent or guardian to borrow a bike and adults must register, sign a waiver, and grab a helmet before checking out a bike.
The trail bridge over the Zumbro River leads into the woods. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Bikes are available from 10 am – 6 pm Saturdays and Sundays, May – October, or by appointment weekdays.
A family walks the Douglas State Trail in Pine Island. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
What a great idea to not only draw visitors to Pine Island, but also to encourage people to get outdoors, exercise and explore rural Minnesota.
Douglas State Trail signage in Pine Island. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
The trail follows an abandoned railroad line past wooded areas, open countryside and along the Zumbro River with a half-way stopping point in the unincorporated community of Douglas in Olmsted County. Next trip to the area, I need to find Douglas.
The Pine Island Cheese Company name honors the community’s history in cheese and butter-making. The building is available for event rental from the city. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
This Borrow-A-Bike program is especially needed now with ever-rising gas prices and out-of-control inflation. Couples and families are seeking low-cost ways to enjoy time together and this offers that. Not everyone owns a bike. Not everyone can transport a bike/bikes. This program makes biking easy and accessible to all. Plus, it gets people outdoors and away from screens.
One of two cupolas atop the cheese company building in Pine Island. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Nothing in life is free…until you find something that is—like Borrow-A-Bike in Pine Island.
Geese atop a nest at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 15, 2022)
Opportunities abound to observe newly-hatched spring waterfowl in my Minnesota community of Faribault, where two rivers run through—the Straight and the Cannon—and assorted ponds dot the landscape.
New signage graces the entrance to the nature center in Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
One of two mallards I saw. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 15, 2022)
An obviously human-made nest in the pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
On a recent stop at River Bend Nature Center, I expected to see goslings and ducklings. But I didn’t. Instead, I saw two adult ducks in the grass aside the road upon entering the center. And then I spotted two grown geese atop a nest and a lone goose cruising the nearby pond. I need to check other locales, like the Cannon River in North Alexander Park. Ducks and geese are prolific there to the point of being a nuisance. I always watch where I step.
Sky and water come together. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
Despite the absence of sighting newborn waterfowl at River Bend, I found other scenes to focus my interest. I especially appreciated the sky, a patchwork of blue and white with clouds seemingly suspended overhead.
Pond close-up. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
And below, in the pond, those skies reflected on the water, among dried and greening grasses.
This sign at River Bend points to an actual spring, not a reference to the season. I love these kitschy homemade signs scattered throughout the nature center. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
This time in May, especially with a late spring, seasons mix. Textures and remnants of autumn remain, contrasting with the greening of spring.
Just inside the entrance a short distance is the waterfall, between the road and the Minnesota State Correctional Facility, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
A short walk to the nearby waterfall yielded disappointment. With the recent rains, I expected water to be rushing over the rock ledges. Rather, there was barely a trickle. The same went for the spring, just off the parking lot near the nature center entrance. No water flowed.
A goose swims alone in the pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted photo May 2022)
But back in the pond, the three geese I watched seemed comfortably settled. Soon, I expect, they will make way for goslings (not ducklings).
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