SJ Rozan

That was the river this morning. Green in the shadows, blue under the sparkling sun, whitecaps and spray all over as the powerful north wind made the water look like a snow-capped mountain range. One single seagull slipped sideways through the sky, letting the wind do the work. On the other hand, a male bufflehead came flapping in against the wind — strong wings on that little guy. A small flock of Brant geese, maybe eight or nine, rose up, circled, and changed their minds, landing where they started. Not such birdbrains, I think.