The tale of Gus the goose and parenthood

The call came in the morning. “It's time.”

I dashed down the road to my neighbor's spacious front porch — sharing for the first time her annual spring vigil. I'd been wanting to see the goslings exit their nest — an eight-foot drop from the platform she and her husband had built on the little grassy island in her pond. The goose had warmed and coddled the eggs for 28 days — the eggs had hatched — and now it was a matter of mom climbing off the nest and she and her mate honking for the little ones to “come on down.”

This year was a slow process. Six hours, in fact. My friend and I tucked under warm blankets with coffee (she) and hot chocolate (me), and our binoculars. The day was chilly. I was glad I'd brought hat and gloves.

The goose stirred and ruffled her feathers now and then. We could see yellow fluff balls tumbling among the hay in the slatted box. The gander kept apart at pond's edge, occasionally slipping into the water. He tired of waiting and took a doze. Still, he cast a wary eye when a great blue heron swooped in wanting to catch frogs.

A coyote appeared, hunting in the field adjacent to the pond. Through the binos I watched it creep toward a small bush and pounce — the rodent in its mouth vanishing in a single gulp.

While we waited my friend told me her Gus the Goose story. One little guy had somehow been left behind by his family in her neighbor's cow pasture, and he asked if she wanted to raise it. She had chickens and at first put Gus in with them and gave him chicken feed. Eventually he got his own “apartment” with a separate entrance and a splash pool just outside the door.

He was living the high life. Gus went everywhere she went. He stayed so close she'd trip over him working in the garden. He wasn't keen on being indoors — but anything outdoors, he was there. He even flew alongside at four-wheeler level when they took it for spins in their field — honking and flapping and thinking he was zooming around a Nascar track.

Gus stayed with my friend and her husband four years, having the run of the place. Then they were involved in a winter car accident and there was recovery. She couldn't spend as much time with him.

One February morning he took off for about three hours. He'd never left before. The next day she saw him out the window ready to fly. She called, “Gus, come back.” But he was programmed for a wider world. Honking his farewell, he hit the sky and never returned.

Our present goose watch began to show signs of imminent success. Mom perched on the edge of the platform nest and flew to the ground. The honking parents gently encouraged their young to jump. They sailed to the ground like autumn leaves loosing from a branch. One was a bit of a hold out, but finally made it.

Immediately they were led to the gravel drive along one end of the pond to swallow pebbles, aiding their digestion. Then the happy family took to the water — and as I drove by on my way home there were the goose and gander, and five small goslings sticking close.

The first portion of parental duty was done; the remainder — the raising of their young — just begun. No wonder mama goose stayed on the nest most of the day. She knew the hard part lay ahead.