One Little Gosling's Undesired Adventure

I was recently reminded again about the consequences of involving oneself in certain elements of nature.  Our ranch hand was out and about when he found 4 little Canada Goose goslings.  Out of interest, innocence and definitely some thoughtlessness but certainly not malicious intentions, he picked one up and brought it up to the house to show to Jack.  Since Jack was down for a nap, that didn't happen, and very quickly, Milan and Darin decided they needed to get going to town or they would be late for an appointment.  Darin went to "put the goose back".

I felt bad about it already.  Here was that poor little goose, grabbed away from its brothers and sisters, not to mention his parents, and being paraded around for us to ogle.  And, I'm sorry to say, I did: admire his lovely coloring, his delicate features, his cute, but very plaintive and pleading little peeps.  I even took a couple pictures.

Being in a hurry, Darin put the gosling down in the shop yard, across a ditch and quite a ways from where he found the little guy originally.  No parents or siblings were in sight.  When Milan discovered the situation, he was furious.  Although he doesn't like Canada Geese living here (farmers call them "rats of the air" because they can eat an incredible amount of new grass before the cattle can and cost farmers a lot of money), he will viciously condemn anyone without even batting an eyelash for placing animals in suffering, even potential suffering.  He asked Darin, "Don't you think he'll just die out there?"  To which Darin answered, "Probably."

Now, I know Darin.  He is not heartless and cruel.  He is gentle and kind to his horse and very sweet and friendly with our stand-offish dog, Cash.  He's a very good, upright, moral, hard-working, kind and seeking-to-be-righteous person.  He is the best ranch hand ever -- very conscientious and thorough, very invested and interested.  So, what happened?

I think it happens to all of us.  We get carried away by things in life without giving them much thought.  I know it happens to me daily. Darin just wanted to let Jack see a little gosling. No harm in that. But removing the gosling from its family, well, there's harm in that. Especially for the gosling -- potentially fatal harm.  His answer to Milan's question was a surprise, even to him, as it was the first time he had stopped to think long enough about what might happen to the little gosling in the long run.

Thankfully, Milan was able to catch the gosling, but not before very much tiring the poor little panicked bird and also getting himself torn up in a blackberry thicket.  The gosling actually managed to get into the ditch leading to the pond and even dove and swam for some length under the surface trying to evade being captured again.  Soaked, scratched and furious, Milan hastily plopped the gosling into the chicken run with our 100+, then-3-week-old chicks and raced out of here to make it to his appointment. At least the gosling would be safe.

I was on the other side of the house, dusting in the back bedroom, with the windows slightly cracked and the gosling on my mind. Within minutes of Milan leaving, I heard louder than usual, insistent peeping. I went around to another window to see the little guy struggling desperately against the impenetrable (and intentionally so!) wire-welded sides of the chicken run.  I worried he wouldn't last much longer.  He would completely tire himself trying to find his family and then die of weariness.

I dropped my dusting and prayed a trek out to the ponds would find his family. Sure enough, on the far side of the barn pond, momma, daddy and three little siblings were warily watching my approach. I prayed again that they would stay there and that I wouldn't have too much trouble catching the gosling out of the chicken run.

You've seen our chicken runs. They're very low to the ground, so getting around inside is a cramped and very, very messy business. Even after a few hours, the ground has enough little chick poops on it to make crawling on all fours under there a pretty darn unsavory task. We've only had to do it on rare occasions, as the way the runs are configured allows us to do everything from the top (not to mention that because they are moved once, and later twice, a day, giving us one or two clean opportunities per day to do anything that requires crawling around on the ground). I steeled myself, and in I went.

The chickens know us as the source of their food, so they're not very shy anymore. They crawled all over me while I was in there. The little gosling, however, ran from me. I had expected this, but even so, I felt a little desperate. He could get around so much more easily than I could. What should I do? I stopped moving, and tried to honk like a goose (I wish I had a video of this part... or maybe I don't!). I guess I was somewhat convincing, because the gosling actually approached me instead of running away from me. He got just close enough for me to scoop him up. I placed him in the darkness and warmth under my coat to calm him down, knowing that the more he struggled, the smaller his chances of survival would be. He immediately snuggled in and settled down. I carefully shuffled myself out of the chicken run, one arm gently holding my coat and the little gosling in place. What a relief to get out of there!

I walked quickly down to the pond, planning my release. I wanted to get close enough for momma and daddy to hear him peeping, which I figured he would do once I removed him from under my coat. I also thought that I would probably get closer to them if I stayed across the water from the family. The gosling could swim, sound carries well over water, and it also offered a clear line of sight.

With my approach, the two adult geese starting honking, and the little bird under my coat started peeping in reply. I knelt down at the water's edge and set him free. What a sight to see him beeline for his family and his family beeline for him! My heart felt like it swelled and got warmer, watching the reunion. I tried to imagine how happy and relieved that little gosling felt, and I wondered, do geese have what we understand as those emotions, or is it just instinct?

Either way, I'm glad for how things worked out in the end. Milan was relieved and happy, upon returning from his appointment, that the gosling had been successfully reunited with his family. Milan also had a follow-up conversation with Darin about the whole situation, and Darin admitted he just hadn't thought it through enough and that he shouldn't have been so thoughtless. I'm glad for the poignant reminder we all got about the delicate balances of nature and the opportunity to share this story-with-a-happy-ending. Most of all, I'm glad the little gosling is back with his family - back where he belongs.

This photo was taken several days after the gosling was reunited with his family. I was glad to see he survived the ordeal. Part of me had worried he would be so traumatized and exhausted that he would crawl into a thicket and breathe his last, even after coming back to mom and dad. We've seen that enough with our chickens, but I should have known these little guys are MUCH hardier than domestic meat chickens (especially White Cornish X). Clearly, he's doing well, eating our grass shoots where we reseeded the ground after it was leveled last summer. This brings up again how we actually have a love-hate relationship with Canada Geese. They are incredibly good foragers, meaning they're very destructive to areas of field we're attempting to renovate. Thankfully, only a few seem to hang around, and I must admit, I enjoy seeing the goose families in the spring.