Whomp, Whomp

Whomp.

I look up from the camera. Look around.

Nothing. Nobody.

I go back to taking photos of the river. I never thought it would freeze over but it has done just that. Not strong enough to walk on by any means, but there is a layer of ice stretching right across the water. That's how cold it's been lately.

Whomp. Whomp.

I jerk my head up. Look around more carefully. What IS that noise? It sounds like an animal, like a cross between a raven and maybe a beaver with a grump on.

I don't see anything. The noise has stopped, but I'm nervous now. Wary. 

WHOMP.

Loud this time. Goose bumps scoot up my spine.

I've heard ice crack before. It doesn't sound like that. Less of a sharp crack, more of a basso profundo.

I was thinking about it as I was going through my photos for tonight's blog. It could be the ice. Because our section of the river is framed by two hydro dams, the water levels frequently go up and down (I was going to say "like a toilet seat" but I share a house with three males and that's simply not true. The seat in our house mostly stays up). 

So maybe it's the changing levels that make that peculiar whomp-whomp sound.

Or maybe it's the river current itself.

The river, I am learning, is a woman of mystery.

Her secrets, her charms, her admirers, are many.

Her explanations, few.