The Goose

Well, there is only one goose left. I am devastated. I did get a bit unattached days ago.
It is not one I particularly liked. my favorites were Mosely the father that I first saw and Psoma who ate from my hand. This one, Cody if a boy or Codette if a girl, poked at a sibling and his Dad if I recall and freely shook his/her butt and pooped.

The charm of Cody/Codette has grown on me. I recall he/she loved to primp their feathers with their beak, to scratch their back with the back of their head, and to spread their wings and stretch. He/she, like the other ones, close their eyes with their lower white eyelids and stand on one leg.

I wonder if park goers, mostly Moslems, took the geese for food. They seem peaceful. 
Today was a major holiday for them and I did not see any of them bothering geese. One jogger said that he is a local and other years saw geese leave and return. Let's hope that happens. Other theories are that evil teenagers killed them or perhaps animals like foxes and coyotes. Or perhaps they went away, single or in small groups, and will return. Sigh. I will be an FBI agent until I find out.

I visit Cody/Codette, how has yet to eat from my hand and at times has been fed bread by others. He/she continues their gestures. Days ago, he/she kept company with tow young duckettes, that are now gone. Cody/Codette floats around, eats, drinks in muddy water, and today was chewing on dead twigs and a potato chip bag. Was he/she "brushing their teeth? I am fascinated.

I recalled an acting teacher saying often that a baby, child, pet or animal will upstage the best actor. Why? They are being themselves. They do not want to defend or prove anything. They are not self-conscious. I cannot imagine Cody/Codette thinking: "How am I chewing this grass? Is my ass fat? Can they see me poop? How should I best spend my time today?"

I have thought that at times I have sweated different people because they had or put up a show that they had what I did not have or really thought I did not have at the moment:  a certain fitness level, a career, a carefree attitude. Cody/Codette does not have this problem. And this is what makes him/her so fascinating. Besides, he/she is so sweet. 

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Distinctions from Canadian Geese

Who would've thought I'd care for geese? As far as I remember, I only thought of them, when I did, as almost ugly, big birds that fill Long Island parking lots with poop.

With years of ups and downs in family, dating, frenemies, human resource catastrophe, intrusive thoughts and other mental concerns, I adapted well to COVD. Besides deaths, may God rest victims' souls and give strength to their families and friends, I enjoyed the quiet time.

I did well without my favorite things: the gym and sauna, theater, restaurants and museums. I substituted home workouts and walks for the gym. Intuition told me to go to a lake where I went with my father and uncle as a child one day and I started going often. I had no expectations but to walk, with music and Dave Ramsey on my cell phone.

I saw four duck pairs, turtles, fish and eventually two white herons and two blue-gray herons. On one of my first visits, or the first, I saw one goose. I guessed he was male and called him Mosely. I wondered inside and out loud where his mate was; unlike the ducks, he was one like I was. Days later, Mosely had a wife and five children. I was a bit jealous of his wife who had a family. I eventually called her Barbara. I had difficulty naming the children, not knowing if they were male or female and not wanting gender-neutral names like Cody. One grown girl, it seemed , who ate from my hand was called Psoma or Bread Man in Greek. It sounded cute. In two weeks the end of May and early June, the grew and their feathers went from down to grown brown and black colors. Their necks and faces started getting black, and white spots appeared on their head. Sigh. I cried inside they'd leave me. I thought they left one by one, and begged them not to do that.

I observed the family on the water; feeding on grass; pruning their feathers, even turning their necks all around; dipping themselves in the water; looking for food in mud; and taking naps, their under eyelids white.

One day I walked by them and fed them, continued to walk and job and when I returned, I saw a 9- and 11-year-old girls pestering them. I castigated myself that I did not tell them to stop loudly enough. The geese showed off their feathers and then headed to the lake. I counted four, not five, goslings and thought I saw someone with one in the corner of my eye. I was guilty it was my fault. The girls must have hurt them.

I returned that night and there were still four goslings.

It stayed that way for weeks.

Then there were three.

I called 311. I called Audubon. I emailed PETA. I put out questions on Quora. No one seemed to know. Did anyone get them and eat them? Did an angry teenager hurt them? Were there raccoons, coyotes or foxes at the park? I doubt that.

Last week, my Psoma was gone. I visited twice one day, and skipped the next. A day made a difference.

I put up signs. Nothing.

What I learned:

Animals in the wild, even more than pets or zoo animals, are totally themselves. Even in the cruelty of nature, (beyond a heron catching fish, I did not observe), they are in a smooth, wondrous dance. they do not want to impress you and they do not wonder what you think.  We can take lessons.

There is a line between possibility and wishful thinking Jogging at the park recently, I envisioned the three missing goslings flying over the tree tops to their family: probably wishful thinking.

I blame myself. When other goslings went missing, I could not really blame myself more for the first one's missing.

I cling. I cling to still have those weeks of peace walking, seeing my family unfold, wanting to be part of it, and somehow being part of it, although at times the geese seemed annoyed to see me. I cling and so does/did some family members at times I was in grammar school and the family relationships were more simple. Expectations, control  and vindictiveness had not set in yet. So stagnation and clutter are a result.

On one hand, things are sweet when you sweat, hunt and work for them. On the other, they are sweeter, and definitely more light when you do nothing and discover/receive beauty, a gift, love, new people and experiences...

In any case, I miss my geese and do not know when gratefulness for the unfolding of that family in my presence will be greater than pain and nostalgia.

Check out my books on www.Authorhouse.com or www.Amazon.com The Boy in a Wheelchair, Life, Work and Play and PocketGuide to Fitness and Musings on www.Lulu.com.