Meandering Thoughts

All my books available at 

https://bwlpublishing.ca/baldwin-barbara/

            As I walked by the small pond in the apartment complex, I happened upon a group of geese. This spring there were six – three pairs if their behavior was any indication. By the end of May they had hatched a gaggle of geese and pedestrians along the walkway could often be heard complaining about the refuse the critters left behind. One woman called the office every day for a week because a goose chased after her, as if they had anything to do with fowl of that nature. I had seen this particular woman on one of my daily walks, and I do believe if she would quit feeding them bread scraps, they would not be begging her for more. But what do I know; I’m not a goose.

I have, however, learned quite a lot from this group of feathered residents. They never get too far away from each other, especially after the goslings hatched. I can also tell exactly where the babies are, even hidden in the grass or beneath the shrubs, because there is always a guard on either side of the group, head held high and unwavering. I don't know which gender it is. It could be the patriarch, standing watch over his charges, but I like to think it is the mothers who are always the steadfast protectors. Either way, the guards do not move an inch if you approach and it is you who will step to the side, or ride your bicycle around them, even if you are much bigger and it is your residence. During the spring, until the goslings are fully feathered and can fly, this particular area of the complex belongs to them.

I wonder if studies have been done on geese. They appear to have a great sense of commitment and family and are very protective. They also have the patience of Job. I watched one day as they ventured across the street – crossing guard at front and rear and other adults scattered amongst the young ones. Traffic did stop, but after fifteen minutes, more than one horn honked to hurry things along. The geese were not in the least intimidated by the vehicles that could flatten them in a heartbeat.

            Today there was a new occurrence and I stood for some time watching – from a safe distance, of course. This year’s hatchings had lost their down and now had feathers and their heads were marked with the black and white of their tribe. The only way to tell them apart from their parents was their size, for they were small in stature and not yet built for the long distance migration which they would eventually take on. Even as they picked through the grass for bugs, fully capable now that they were grown, there remained a stalwart guard at either end of the group.

            And off to the side, outside the cluster of scrambling toddlers but close to one of the guards, was another gosling. This one was far behind the others in development. Its body still covered with down, it lay in the grass as if unwilling or unable to join in the lunch the others were enjoying. I took a step closer and the guard (it had to be mama) took two steps closer to the baby but her gaze was steady on me. This hatchling was a full three weeks or more behind the rest of the group. I had to wonder with nature in all its glory, how that had happened. It certainly put a wrench in things for the rest of the gaggle as they couldn’t venture far or fly to new feeding grounds and leave an unprotected baby. You could tell by the way the adults acted that this baby, regardless of how poorly it developed or how much care it required, would not be left behind.

            Much can be learned from a goose.

Barbara Baldwin

http://www.authorsden.com/barbarajbaldwin

https://www.amazon.com/stores/Barbara-Baldwin/author/