Some of the summer population seems to be returning to the lake—and Analdas doesn’t like it. There’s a crowd on the the landing near his rock where I have been finding him lately, and I don’t see him.
As I move about to watch the spawning fish, the geese move back into the water, and then Analdas comes. His injured wing is the strangest color blue—something about molting perhaps.
I feed him and he eats a bit before the new geese crowd in. Outnumbered, he doesn’t try to defend himself.
They move in and he stands a safe distance away, watching.