A glorious morning!
Getting out of the car, a low flying crow drifts through bright blue sky. My heart opens wide. My eyes. My ears. Everything is fresh as spring completes its nesting, mating, greening movement toward summer. On the path, one hand raised with the phone-that-does-everything I record birdsong. Approaching the fishway it stinks of fish, there are so many gathered, packed, pushing and streaming toward some inner calling. A dozen blue heron lift off. A marmot bolts across the path.
I get up off my knees where my face has been pressed to a steel grate, awed by the determined struggle of salmon pushing up the ladder. An eagle watching. Cormorants too.
And then I see our poison.
This thing we let happen. Hatch and allow for any human excuse that will make it okay. The wind, coming from the north today is bringing it across the water. Over the dam. It descends and all but blocks out Green Hill. Last week I saw it do the same to Pictou. I am frozen, as one with the knowledge of death. We are killing ourselves.
An hour later I taste it still.