Goosed

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I live on a “goose route”. Every winter, there are Canada geese that spend the cold months here. We get to see them every day because they fly back and forth between a pond southeast of town and one northwest of town. Some days, they’ll do it several times in a day, flying in formation, with their honking so loud you can hear it while inside (with the music going).

I don’t know why, but I find these geese fascinating. Sometimes, as I hear them through the window of my office, I’ll step outside just to watch them go over.

This year is an especially good year for watching the geese. Ever year we get some, but about every 3-4 years we get them by the thousands. It is just enthralling to me to stand there and watch wave after wave of geese pass overhead, all honking, all in rows. Some days, it takes a full five minutes for them to pass overhead. And half an hour later they’ll be back, going the other direction with that same purpose.

The pond they land on southeast of town is so small that, when they are all resting there, you can’t tell there is a pond beneath them. Just a sea of undulating white feathers. From a distance, it looks like the pond is frozen over.

Then, they’ll all take off at once in a magnificent flurry of flapping wings. Once in the sky, they fly around in circles—in clumps, it looks like—until they have organized themselves into their flights and off they go, in “V” after “V”. But they’ll be back in a little while.

On the years when we don’t get as many geese, I still like watching them, but it makes me miss years like this one. On these years, I take ever opportunity to watch them—even when driving. It’s no problem, because everyone else is pulled over to watch them, too.