Sunday, October 05, 2014

Trumpeter Swans


It is a chilly evening at the marsh.



Above the roar of the automobiles, a swan calls to her mate: Coho, coho!


They flex their wings in preparation for the long migratory flight.


A few more dives, then they head for the rushes.




The snow creeps down the mountains.

Coho! Coho! All is well! 

All...is.



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