Goose Tales

I worry about paddling through life with my head in the mud wondering why I'm getting water up my nose, but not really knowing how to right myself either. Suffocation comes easily for those of us pata allegres, wanderers with happy feet.  At the wildlife refuge today, flocks of geese landed and departed, honked their hellos and good-byes, as I thought about Mary Oliver's poem Wild Geese. These lines specifically: Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

Later, and deeper into the refuge, I stopped to review my photography notes. I wasn't getting any pictures, and was beginning to lose focus of my project. I simply wasn't seeing anything.  
Who knew I was being watched?  

Mantids are able to turn their heads 180 degrees to scan their surroundings. They have three simple eyes located between two large compound eyes.

Isn't that the kindness of the world sometimes? To be seen when you can't see.  

As it goes with wildlife, we eyeballed each other for awhile. With its five eyes it clearly had the advantage, and soon determined there was nothing more to see. With that, this three inch predator blended into its surroundings so perfectly, so seamlessly, that all that was left was a picture and a question.

                                               for whom is this refuge?