O  M  E       T  O  R  I  E  S       I  N  K  S       O  N  T  A  C  T 

One moment a tsjirp articulated crystal clear over a river plain in the soft morning sun. Loud and clear, articulated short, it returned on regular moments. Trampling down the fresh grass it barely sticked out of, a fluffy ducklet rushed towards me. The culprit.

It seemed to have just made it out of the water in one of the bends, couldn't make it over a rapid, so now it turned and jumped back in at the next bend. The newcomer in the world, mainly yellow, desperately sounded its tsjirp, then was silent, everytime just long enough for us to wishfully assume the ducklet had meanwhile found what it is looking for, so it had been its last desperate call.

But every time then there was a tsjirp again. The little bird swam up the water, upstream. I saw it paddle and skim the banks arduously, I had to see it fight against the current, from the top of my climb at the Tritzmann Gedenkwand.

Several climbs later the sun had changed its position noticeably and we heared the ducklet again. Soon after we saw it take back its trace, its peddles, tsjirpingly racing downstream with the water flow, fast as lightning and heartbreaking.