Two boats, three flamingos

Three years ago, on the way to Gold River, I passed a pond, a shallow, muddy pond, far from any human habitation, surrounded by impassible thickets of hardhack and dead trees. And in the centre of the pond, someone had moored two homemade toy boats.

The pond, on the map, has no name. I've been calling it "Two Boat Pond".

Boat # 2, in June of 2016.

There were two boats in March, but by June, one had disappeared. The other remained until last year. Maybe it sunk; maybe a bear stole it. It's not in a pond that you would want to walk through; the water may be mid-thigh deep, but underneath there is mud covering dead logs and branches; treacherous going, if you managed somehow to hack through the hardhack. The plant lives up to its name.

We went by again last Saturday. And now, the boats have been replaced. By flamingos.

Flamingos on a log.

And now I must call the pond "Three flamingos and two boats Pond."

I wonder who put them there.