The nasty piece of work called the skua comes to the Eiðars skirting the rip rap on the Jökulsá.
At first, they get out of the way.
The Skua keeps at it. When I witnessed this scene two weeks ago, I’d already been harassed by a skua myself, on the selfljót. It wanted my grey hat. Or me. I don’t know which. Yikes.
It’s the ducklings it really wants, though.
The eiðar defense entails a lot of splashing.
And then the eiðars attack the skua.
And jump on the murderous intruder’s wings.
And try to drown that sucker.
But the skua gets out of the pile.
It kicks across the water…
…and is off..
… with a duckling (flapping its little wings) for a catch.
And that’s why eiðars have so many ducklings.
Humans travel by the millions to Iceland every year, to stand at the edge of the Earth and look into the abyss.
The Last of the Glaciers Melts in the Jökulsárlón
Notice how it looks back without blinking.
I thought I’d look up from the Glacial Lagoon …
… show of humans being beautiful for themselves and for each other by posing (warmly) within luxurious images of humanly-initiated global climate change…
… to see what the glacier thought of all this. Ah, well, look, I’m glad it did. The cheeky thing…
… was sticking its tongue out at us! Just a tiny bit. Between compressed lips.
Anyone can see that.
But they’re also very friendly beasts. You just have to wait for them to come to you.
A kind of troll, really. Or, a whole family of them.
Big and sneaky.
It is easy…
… to be distracted …
…by ice …
… and its romantic stories of loss and the fleeting nature of experience…
… and to miss the light …
… and the darkness …
… together …
… in the eye.
Glaciers come from another world.
It is a world of light.
Jokulsárlón and Skaftafell
The people stand silent before the glacier and wait. So has it ever been in the presence of gods.
But only after they have no words for them any more. Such bittersweet irony at the Jökulsárlón! Just imagine if these powers could still speak to each other!