River-Diary | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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It is April, and like a giant basilisk shedding its skin, the river is casting off its winter coat of ice. Man-size chunks float by like the ghosts of ancient logs. The swans are already arriving and the ducks can't be far behind. What will they bring with them this year and how will it affect the ecology of the river-bank? At the rapids the water is a brutal blackish-brown. It looks cold and unforgiving. It is unappealing. |
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April | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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