Canada Geese Lindsey Cline
In the summer Sweet Briar lake is home to a large family of Canada geese. I most often see the geese casually swimming around the boathouse or near the marsh where the creek flows into the lake. In this dense nook tiny turtles stick their heads above the water; so many that the surface is covered with raised pointy noses and beady eyes. The vegetation in the marsh is thick, a perfect place for food and nests. In the summer you can easily hear the loud chorus of honks erupting when the family takes off across the lake. In late afternoon the group will fly together in the famous `V' from one side of the lake to the shore and settle for the night. On the shore immediate families separate from the group and join each other. The new parents of the this years goslings are identified. The most fascinating thing about Canada geese are their relationships with each other. Their behavior is revolved around unity and loyalty. They are extremely social creatures that rely on reciprocated protection, communication and learned behavior to survive. This species chooses a mate for life; they spend their lives together raising young, making nests, and locating food. Mating pairs greet each other by rapid, alternating calls that complement each other perfectly to sound like a single voice. You must listen carefully to pick out the higher `hink' of the female and the deeper `honk' of the male. This winter I find only one family of geese at the Sweet Briar Lake. The parents appear in the sky and as I watch them fly overhead, the symmetry of the two together is striking. To reduce drag and take advantage of the slipstream created by her mate, the smaller female flies on the diagonal corner from him. They turn smoothly, instantly, and never waver or change their distance from each other. They drop their heads in unison and the front of their wings dips to allow air over the top. The couple gracefully glides lower and finally comes the grand finale. Side by side their slender black necks stretch low, wings flap perpendicular to the water, and their webbed feet skid across the surface. I think they enjoy skiing across the surface because they linger for as long their thin legs will allow before settling and closing their wings. The four younger geese follow several minutes later, calling to each other with their wheezy voices that are much softer than the honk of their parents. Just like adolescent humans, a gosling's maturing voice will crack when it flickers between an adult honk and a baby wheeze.These youngsters remind me of adolescents in their flight as well. Their flight begins as a clumsy ruckus in the brush that rises into an awkward zigzag. Near the middle of the lake the siblings manage to form a diagonal line, but they are near the spot their parents have chosen to feed. They abandon the formation as they prepare to land. In a chaotic commotion of flapping wings, wavering voices, and jerking webbed feet, the geese settle from air to water. The parents are diligently feeding by this time. The male floats calmly while the female slides her beak across the bottom silt for underwater vegetation and aquatic insects. Her dark tail feathers point straight in the air and webbed feet tread the water to remain upside down. One protects the other, watching for predators while its mate is completely oblivious with only the tail feathers above water. Their wide-set eyes allow them to spot a predator two-hundred seventy degrees horizontally and vertically without moving; and a slight movement of the head allows a complete three sixty view. I observe all of this from a small clearing near the marsh. Spongy moss covers the shore's border between soil and water, and up close it looks like a forest of tiny evergreens. The shrub-like branches of a Seaside Alder stretch out over the water. Next to the tree a muddy trail has been worn through the moss. I wonder if this is a favorite place for the family because of the easy sloping path to the water. I sit on a fallen evergreen and next to me are the sprouting roots of sticker bushes that have been chewed to the ground. The geese's bill has sharp teeth around the outside, called lamellae, that could rip these supple roots for a meal. It is unusual to see a family like this one separate from their flock and I wonder if the goslings were either too young to migrate or one if one of the adults is injured. Adults are dedicated to their mates and their young; the family remains together regardless of circumstance, in this case wintering in chilly Virginia. Hunters have often observed the depressed mourning calls of geese that have lost a mate; geese will even leave the flock to search for a missing companion, often returning to dangerous hunting grounds. Geese usually remain in a family flock of twenty to thirty for most of the year and they rely on each other during the long migration. The head gander and goose lead and follow the group respectively. The gander signals take off by vigorously tossing his head and uttering soft sounds. The group responds by turning towards the wind and an older gander will begin loud honking. The geese follow water bodies on migration routes whenever possible and use landmarks to guide the way. Several weeks into March the entire flock returns to Sweet Briar Lake and arguments over mates begin to erupt. During this time, flock relationships loosen slightly to allow mating and caring for the eggs. A gander will pump his head up and down to give a mild territorial warning to protect his goose from other possible suitors. A more severe warning is waving the head back and forth, much like an adult waving the forefinger back and forth to tell a child `no.' I watch couples separate from the group and begin to swim in unity, only to be followed several minutes later by a single male—head outstretched, waving back and forth, and honking loudly. Courting geese greet each other by gently tossing their heads, bill pointed up and towards their mate, sometimes their necks will form arcs as they toss their heads up and down. In water both gander and goose will toss water on their backs with their beaks as a gesture of mating and commitment. In only a week or so the fighting and courting will be done and nesting will begin. Five to seven eggs are laid in mid- spring and during this vulnerable time males ferociously protect the nest from any intruders while the female incubates the eggs. If you ever come across a nest, beware. The male will chase any predator no matter the size. With outstretched neck and hissing voice he will protect the female and eggs to his death. The mother goose will time her molt to coincide with the maturing of her young, so they are ready for migration at the same time. This is usually in late autumn, only nine weeks after the goslings hatched. Eskimos used to hunt geese during molting because it leaves them flightless. Young goslings are taught how to bathe and stretch their wings in the first few weeks. They learn these behaviors from their parents, as well as communication calls and body language. Although some swimming and flight abilities come with instinct, amazingly, young goslings learn the majority of these skills from their parents. Goslings learn how, where, and what to eat from their parents. Without the constant protection and socializing talents taught by parents goslings would not survive. When two-year-old geese return from their first migration in the spring, they are too young themselves to mate. However, as their parents prepare for another generation of goslings, the youngsters often imitate and make their own `pretend' nests nearby. These are the only geese that a gander will let near his nest. On this cool March morning I watch two ganders launch into an all-out attack over a female—flapping wings, honking, and snapping beaks. I realize now that neither geese will be hurt in this fight. It is merely the social network of loyalty that they rely on to communicate and rear young.
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