When you're dressed for a gala but it's just Monday.

A few steps ahead, I found myself face-to-face with a Magpie Goose. Its stark black-and-white plumage set it apart from the muted tones of the landscape. It stood there like an aristocrat who had wandered into the wrong party but decided to stay anyway. Its long pink legs seemed almost too delicate to hold its sturdy frame. Behind it, other geese milled about near the water’s edge, their movements less deliberate but no less captivating. The air carried a faint hint of damp earth from the nearby pond, mingling with the soft rustle of grass underfoot. For a moment, I wondered if this bird saw me as an equal observer or simply another transient figure passing through its domain.