Another day, another fate postponed

Today the geese did not attack, but they well could have.

Instead of trumpeting their numbers, they fled as individuals, or as members of a disparate horde. Instead of driving onward out of sheer willpower, they relented, succumbing to the urge to flee to safety. What safety was confidently theirs. Instead of testing the limits of their opponent, they chose to live another day in uncertainty. Instead they perpetrate petty vandalism, excrement and dirt.

A squirrel on North Maple Street had a dangeous glint in its eyes but then ran like the wind.

On the opposite bank of the river, ducks watched. I didn’t trust them, not as far as I could throw them.

Tomorrow, who knows. A crow may announce the first volley.

Update: for the moment we’re safe from the ducks; there’s too much infighting, it’s preventing them from hatching competent plans. Hasbert tried to drown Roland—I saw this as I walked—though he was not successful. Be wary, though.