Water's edge

At lakeside in the fresh breeze, several fisherpersons tried their luck; one told us he'd caught "a few little bass."

Most of the shore is lined with stone blocks, but the stands of phragmites create enclaves of fertile mystery.  Like swampy cornfields, they beckon with a touch of menace. Red-wing blackbirds swoop overhead, and the pungent mud squishes underfoot.



The water always yields some detritus of civilization. I'd find it very satisfying to go around in hip boots and collect it all. (Maybe this weekend one can do so; check here to learn about volunteering at "It's my Park Day" this Saturday.)

I am a skilled frog stalker, and after losing several to the screech!-plop alert, I managed to creep up on this confident fellow. Soon will be peak season for evening concerts (gronk, gronnnnk).

NIFTY WEDNESDAY BIRD-AND-DOG BONUS!

This is Buttons the green-cheeked Amazon parrot.  His owner says he is a native Manhattanite who prefers taking cabs to relishing the great outdoors. He climbed onto my outstretched finger with his raptorish grey feet and said "Hi." Child observed that he seemed to be sizing us up with a scrupulous gaze. For all his cranky dignity, his human grabs him and kisses him and gives him noogies, which he endures with a look of outraged forbearance. They've known each other for all of Buttons' 13 years--since he was a scrawny little shaver in a downtown pet shop, "looking like something you should throw in a frying pan," his human recalled fondly.

And this is Buttons' friend Rowley, a Golden Retriever and a therapy dog in children's hospitals. Buttons is unperturbed by Rowley's thunderous bark, and Rowley is a good sport when Buttons sidles up to him, cackles, and says (according to their human), "Stupid dog!" (To be fair, this stunt was a set-up; someone taught Buttons to say it, but he happily complied.)