The Wild Goose

It’s been busy around the pond for the last several days. Migrating ducks, mostly mallards, have been dropping in on a regular basis. They generally splash down in late morning or early afternoon. They’ll dabble around the edges of the pond, feeding on submerged vegetation, butts aimed heavenward. Dignity is not their forte’. They’ll take off at sunset or early sunrise. Often dropping a gratuity or two in the pond as they leave. Loathsome expression of gratitude, if you ask me.

In spite of our efforts to move them out, the geese have prevailed. And they’re clearly in a family way. We should do a better job of monitoring the behavior of our overnight guests. She’s feverishly building a nest on the island. An unfortunate fact for several reasons. First, some of the newly hatched goslings will quickly become tiny feathered hors d’oeuvres for the local snapper population. The goose gods are cruel. Two, if they survive, these small winged beasts will evolve into the meanest miniature raptors since the Jurassic mass extinction. Intra-familial war looms. Three, they poop with the avid gusto of a John Deere manure spreader. Copiously. On the lawn.

For the last two days, while she’s been warming the nest, he’s been spending the time floating on the pond, head under his wing, sound asleep. A worried prospective father he‘s not.

Our alpha male six point buck visited with his harem again last evening. Some guys have all the luck. On second thought, a harem? With all that must entail? Maybe not.

Early spring moves on apace, The squirrels continue their crazy springtime rituals. Prospecting for long lost acorns. Minding their kits. Chuck, our resident groundhog, has suddenly re-inhabited his former home under our sun porch. Apparently his recent digs in the abandoned drain pipe near the woods are for winter use only. A wealthy woodchuck. Who woulda thunk?

The day’s idyllic peace was rudely disturbed when a frantic raccoon burst onto the scene. It ran from the woods across the lawn, around the ledge and up the mountain before we could lay a lens on it. Didn’t see its pursuer. Just as well, I suppose. At the same time, a pair of mallards hit the water very near to where the goose was taking a lunch break. Seemingly disinterested in one another, the goose and the mallards went their separate ways.

The bank on the eastern edge of the pond is warmed by the afternoon sun. Many of the Hideaway critters– turtles, snakes, birds, etc–enjoy relaxing and sunning themselves there. The mallards, after exploring and having a watery snack, shook themselves dry and spent an hour warming themselves. Just before sunset they took to the air. Off on the avian highway. Destination some unknown place far, far north.

“Tonight I heard the wild goose cry
Hanging north in the lonely sky–”
“The Wild Goose”–Frankie Lane

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