Where we live，on the Eastern shore of Mary-land，the gentle waters run in and out like fingers slimming at the tips. They curl into the coves like tender palms.

    The Canada geese know this place，as do the white swans and the ducks who ride an inch above the waves of Chesapeake Bay as they skim their way into harbor. In the autumn，by the thousands，they come home for the winter.

    The swans move toward the shores in a stately glide，their tall heads proud and unafraid. They lower their long necks deep into the water， where their strong beaks dig through the river bottoms for food. And there is，between the arrogant swans and the prolific geese，an indifference，almost a disdain.

    Once or twice each year ......