Look, snow geese flying north, on their way to Siberia! No, wait. They're circling around, about to land again.
And so they remain, snarfing down yet more suburban parkland. This is what gets me about them: they are perfectly preadapted to exploiting (= eating) suburban grass, thus consuming what amounts to municipal taxpayer dollars for at least six months of the year. I am entertained by this, despite the fact that some of those dollars are mine. Plop a suburb down at the mouth of a major river, and all sorts take advantage. 21st century ecology.
Some have left, it seems. Difficult to know when they all look more or less the same.
But that isn't entirely true. Young ones have in varying degrees molted their dingy greys, replaced then with snow-white adult feathers.
Most should be gone within a month (finally) to barren, unsuburban Siberia. There they will mate, produce goslings, and every night tell their children of the magical island city to the south where there is more tidily-maintained and delicious grass than all the snow geese in the world could ever eat. And poop.
BTW: I can weave my bike at decent speed through a minefield of snow goose poop on a paved park walkway with the exactitude of Han Solo negotiating an asteroid field in the Millennium Falcon.