Each spring the area from my home and my daughter's elementary school sees a spike in the geese population. We have a series of small, intimate open fields and retention ponds. We used to have ducks when we first moved in the area. They were brazen. They would fly into my pool in the early spring before I began cleaning it and adding chlorine. But the geese have moved in and kicked the ducks out.
And each spring the traffic slows when the geese cross the roads, and my kids and I gawk at the little geese babies waddling in the front of the school. By summer, most of the geese are gone and life returns to normal.
Typically we don't get close enough to see any of the geese hatchlings (let me stop now and remind you, dear reader, that I did not search geese.com to get all the pertinent and factual information or terminology regarding the Canadian geese population. All geese naturalist can send me an email) or their nesting places. Except this year. Our babysitter had relocated to an apartment right down the road, transitioning from her home until the house in South Carolina is finalized. In early May, we noticed one particular momma geese. She never moved from her location at the end of the curb. She looked like she was sitting on a treasure there among the mulch. Sure enough, our babysitting friend, Danielle, let us know that momma geese was indeed sitting on a few eggs.
But there was a caveat. Momma goose had been sitting on those eggs for some time. Perhaps the eggs were duds. Knowing that the momma goose was hell bent on staying there with her babies gave me some room for thought on an otherwise busy end of the year. School was nearing its end. Both kids were in their respective sports--my son was starting baseball and finishing lacrosse while my daughter was halfway through her soccer season--and both my wife and I were barely above water. But that momma goose. She got to me.
The one detail we noticed when we snapped the picture was that there were feathers. I wanted to lift up momma goose just to see what was there. What would I see? Eggs waiting to hatch? Hollow eggs? Eggs cracked open to reveal some grisly feat of nature?
I had this complete blog ready for you, dear reader, of how this momma goose and her relentless pursuit for a family. Somehow this was a metaphor of my own life, my own stubbornness to leave old habits die. Each day I came home, exhausted, and I'd open this here computer I'm typing with now and begin. And each time I stopped. Too many distractions. We had practice almost every night. Dinner, homework, lesson plans. In some ways, that momma goose was like my life too. And other lives. We've all found ourselves unwilling to give up even though everything around us is moving on. What about my past was I unwilling to let go? Momma goose wasn't forthcoming with any answers.
Weeks went by and rain or wind or cloudy skies, momma goose was there. We noticed the other baby geese in the vicinity were getting older. Baby geese were now becoming awkward teens. Their stubby legs weren't as cute as they dangled from their fur like twigs. Their yellow feathers were becoming less bushy. No one likes a teenager, not even nature.
My wife had looked into our goose problem. Apparently there was still hope. The period of time between laying and hatching could span up to 3 weeks or more. By the end of May, the subject of my blog changed. What if momma goose was right all along? She's sticking it out to the very end. The daddy goose was no where to be found (typical, right?) but she was holding down the fort. She would prevail. What a great blog that would have been for the end of the school year. Oh how it would have aligned with how I was feeling in school. A teacher ready to give up to a renewed sense of purpose. I could hear Arsenio Hall in the background, "Praise the lawd!"
At one point, momma goose stood up, spread her wings and allowed us to see the gifts she was preparing. How magnificent they were. God's creation, just awaiting their lives. Who was I to say the eggs were duds. Hope reigned.Sure enough, a week or so later, we saw momma goose had left the nest. We grew alarmed but she had left the area covered in feathers and leaves. That's one smart momma goose. The one variable that allows the geese to thrive here, especially in the Ohio suburbs, is the lack of predators. Dogs are leashed and categorized. If the geese had populated the area before, perhaps there would have been snakes and wolves and all sorts of nefarious Disney creatures looking to eat. Suburban sprawl has all but eliminated the predators. Most ecosystems in Ohio have no threats to scavengers like possum and squirrel and offer no deterrent to geese.
And the day finally came. The baby geese had arrived. We didn't care if we were late to work so we snapped a few pictures of the celebratory event. Sure enough, daddy goose had come back to the fray. There they were, five baby geese looking cute, stumbling up a curb, following their destinies.
Our family did survive May. My daughter's soccer team turned on their winning ways and won our bracket tourney. My son's lacrosse season ended without much fanfare and baseball was up and down but overall fun. Our school years ended with hugs and smiles, like they always do. Despite testing and the rigor of an everyday job, teaching students always ends on the relationships you forge.
What of momma goose? Her nest was quickly mulched over and gone. Most of the geese population have moved on. It's quiet in the suburbs again. Cars speed through intersections and our pool is full of chlorine. Summer has already transitioned into July. June for me was fairly lazy. It was part feeling sorry for myself and part vindictive relaxation. July has come. It's time for me to start stumbling over curbs, following the lead of my God once more. You see how this blog turned out? It's all a metaphor. Even a momma goose's story.
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