I first mistook them for woodpeckers, bluejays replacing the fallen & rattling the dormer at daybreak, some late-winter havoc away from the fallen geese, carcasses ravished by raptors along the river, birds of appetite having a last supper before their own toxic collapse. Along the Wallkill, the frozen dead mark stone-bound pans of brash ice beyond Ward’s Bridge & again above the hamlet’s spillway. I watch alone—treetops empty, no string of voyeur crows to surveille my find. From the north new geese arrive, smaller than the year-rounders & arctic-hardened in shorter skeins. They settle near mallards & mergansers, the survivor-reservoirs who carry death but survive it, dabblers near shore, divers in the dark open channel. It is quiet along the river. Upstream, a single crow caws & after long delay, a matching dyad, distant but in the same broad pitch, some amity in the face of absence, an absence calling to the future, a future of replacements, a future when a new witness will arrive to carry on. —Kevin Swanwick, late February 2026
I read most all of your Poems Kev and typically the words and wording are over my head and most always I fight to understand their meaning but enjoy your prose just the same. But today's Poem was brilliant and the more I ponder it, the more (to me anyway) reflects upon humans and our society as well. With animals, their demise from the toxicity as you call it comes from nature, although humans play a bad part of that role too. With us though, our demise is totally of our own doing. So what does our future hold, who are our replacements, who will be here to bear witness and carry on? I can only hope that whomever it is, that they will see the light because of our own demise. Best to learn from it and do better for all that are left to inhabit this planet.... Carry on ;)
As usual, you paint a vivid picture. You put us there physically and emotionally. Down here, in the land of sunshine and flamingos, I didn’t know about the NE’s plight. But here too, much is not what it seems.
Louise, I haven’t followed the Florida bird populations, but you may want to keep an eye on waterfowl. Certain of them are carrier, “reservoirs” who have limited or strong immunity while others very susceptible. Up here, the Canada Geese and Crows were the first to go, followed by raptors. Every morning, with my coffee and binoculars nearby, I watch the hawks along our perimeter treetops. Almost every morning I’d see two (Red Tails and Coopers, most often) working the field for meadow voles. I haven’t seen a single hawk for at least a month. Have seen a few elsewhere, but remarkably few and the spread continues. Hope you are enjoying the warm weather. We still have persistent snow cover, and I built a snow fort with my grand daughter yesterday (she is on break). I love Hudson Valley winters, but I am ready for spring! Keep well.
Another beautiful poem! Thank you for sharing your gift.
I can relate to your observation to your surroundings. It looks like our area is also experiencing Avian Flu to the extent that our county zoo closed its aviary since the start of the year. On top of that, we rarely see birds in our bird feeder these days.
I read most all of your Poems Kev and typically the words and wording are over my head and most always I fight to understand their meaning but enjoy your prose just the same. But today's Poem was brilliant and the more I ponder it, the more (to me anyway) reflects upon humans and our society as well. With animals, their demise from the toxicity as you call it comes from nature, although humans play a bad part of that role too. With us though, our demise is totally of our own doing. So what does our future hold, who are our replacements, who will be here to bear witness and carry on? I can only hope that whomever it is, that they will see the light because of our own demise. Best to learn from it and do better for all that are left to inhabit this planet.... Carry on ;)
We live in interesting times, Lenny. Lotsa love, friend.
As usual, you paint a vivid picture. You put us there physically and emotionally. Down here, in the land of sunshine and flamingos, I didn’t know about the NE’s plight. But here too, much is not what it seems.
Fantastic Kevin (albeit devastating.) And, of course, I loved the explanation.
Louise, I haven’t followed the Florida bird populations, but you may want to keep an eye on waterfowl. Certain of them are carrier, “reservoirs” who have limited or strong immunity while others very susceptible. Up here, the Canada Geese and Crows were the first to go, followed by raptors. Every morning, with my coffee and binoculars nearby, I watch the hawks along our perimeter treetops. Almost every morning I’d see two (Red Tails and Coopers, most often) working the field for meadow voles. I haven’t seen a single hawk for at least a month. Have seen a few elsewhere, but remarkably few and the spread continues. Hope you are enjoying the warm weather. We still have persistent snow cover, and I built a snow fort with my grand daughter yesterday (she is on break). I love Hudson Valley winters, but I am ready for spring! Keep well.
Hi Kevin, I can't even remember what I originally wrote....but I know it included giving Amaya and Kathy a hug from me!
I am driving on the Apopka Wildlife Drive in the next week, so I will look for the waterfowl.
Another beautiful poem! Thank you for sharing your gift.
I can relate to your observation to your surroundings. It looks like our area is also experiencing Avian Flu to the extent that our county zoo closed its aviary since the start of the year. On top of that, we rarely see birds in our bird feeder these days.