Yogis,
I’ve seen many geese in my life, yet I can’t say I have really gotten to know any.
I admit I’m a bit afraid. When a goose is not happy, they let you know.
I have several memories of being confronted and I was always
the one who backed down. The way they hiss and charge with wings wide is not to
be taken lightly. One even bit my young son’s butt one spring day.
Yet last weekend I felt closer to geese.
It began with spotting a goose sitting on what we determined to be a nest, feet from the door of our friend’s house. A circular mound of pine needles, leaves and feathers against the trunk of a holly tree at the lake’s edge. An ideal spot. Dad floating feet away.
As she stood to turn, we saw the eggs. She threw things out
of the nest. Pulled in new needles and re-fluffed the area. A gentle roll of
the eggs. Housekeeping. Attentive mother.
She then lifted her back tail, curved her wings back and
placed her wide warm belly down on the eggs, rocking from side to side until
she was firmly nestled deep in the nest. A cool breeze blew overhead.
We read she will sit on the eggs for at least 28 days, leaving only occasionally for food, water and to bathe. The father rarely sits on the eggs. Yet we witnessed how he takes his role as protector quite seriously.
We checked on them all weekend. Once I found that neither
were at the nest and I couldn’t see the eggs. We ventured out to get closer. I
saw them first….mom and dad taking off from upstream, bee-lining toward us with
much to say. ‘Run’ I yelled as old memories returned.
We realized she buries the eggs beneath feathers when she
ventures out….but never takes her eyes off them. And as dawn broke, she was sleeping
soundly with her head under her wing while Dad stood tall a foot away.
I realized how the qualities of attentiveness, nurturing and protection are innate. In all of us. Even a goose. But where do they come from? What is the source?
Always amazed,
SARAH
