In the hushed light of dawn, the Bar-headed Geese at the water’s edge are a serene sight. The gentle hush is broken by the flutter of wings as one goose, with striking black bars adorning its head like a crown, springs into the air. Its ascent is a signal, and soon the water is alive with the stirring of feathers and the symphony of calls as the flock prepares to take flight.
The geese rise as one, their bodies silhouetted against the soft morning sky. In their unity, there’s a quiet strength, an innate understanding that binds the flock. As they disappear into the horizon, they leave behind ripples echoing their departure, a testament to the fleeting, yet profound, touch of nature’s grace. The moment is transient, but the memory, like their disciplined formation across the sky, lingers on.