just ducks...

It took around 30 minutes to get around the reservoir this morning. Oh, I did not run, I walked, dressed like the regular me, not a striped or dayglo sport version of me.

I made sure to quickly pass by the two insanely serious business people who almost sexually excited each other by moving their venti red cups and saying things like: "... and I made sure to let him know that he will be the carrier of the message, and so he will have to take responsibility for it..."
I knew I was far enough when I actually was able to hear the nuts break between the teeth of squirrels on a nearby tree. They were probably not nuts, of course, but I just do not know enough.

I stopped on the south side of the man made lake to watch a very strange behaviour of some of the many ducks on the water. A group of 25 or so, swam in three tiny concentric circles, their bodies rubbing on each other, sometimes making one of the birds a bit upset. New ducks, often couples, were approaching to join the highly complex water dance. It looked as if there were some under water carousel, three tightly spinning disks, and the birds stood on them, turning in opposite directions. I saw great precision in the moves of the group. It was all very peculiar.
I had no camera to record the little cosmic event and I had to keep moving, as I did not want the high charged business meeting to catch up with me again.
I passed the South East Calvert Vaux gate house. A whole collection of pictures of Alberto Arroyo were on display in one of the windows...

The equivalent of a heavy diesel truck jogged slowly by me, and I was able to stay behind the man, in his giant wind shadow, keeping a good tempo for a really good while.
It was not until an older lady looked at me in a very suspicious way that I decided to slow down a little. It must have looked as if I were the heavily sweating man's trainer, with my little moleskin book, open from time to time, while walking at full speed behind him.
The north side of the reservoir was where the Canadian Geese stared at some floating trash and at each other; then the hundreds of seagulls, another major bird-event.
I left the track, left the reservoir, returned to 96th street...
and I wondered what the strange dance of the ducks might have possibly have meant.
I imagined the mars probe finding concentric circles inscribed into the red soil of the planet. I imagined how important such a discovery would be for mankind... and I wondered how many ducks perform such incredible dances on the waters of the lakes of this planet... every day...
there were other things that danced in tight concentric circles in my head, of course... and then one of the thoughts was...
... what if the messenger does not even know of the message?...