This morning when I went out to feed the birds, I could not see Droopy anywhere. In case he had walked upstream, I went over to the bridge to look for his footmarks, and there - clearly marked in the fresh snow - were coyote tracks. Oh no! I ran back to the house, grabbed binoculars, and scanned the ice for feathers or blood, but didn't see any. Then I noticed a dark shape huddled in shadow against the trunk of a weeping willow tree at the edge of the ice. It was Droopy, presumably traumatized, but unhurt.
It took him a few hours to get up the courage to come out of hiding, but I guess fear made him hungry, because he's eaten corn three times today. I'm noticing he keeps nodding and shaking his head, like geese do when they are communicating with each other. Is he talking to himself, like a castaway alone on a desert island? Maybe I should get him a goose decoy to keep him company, and call it Wilson.
