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.