Geese
A Mystic V
A V of mystic geese winging north for January snow
When first I hear them, I don’t know what I hear, and since I don’t speak Geese, I was given no clues either. If, by some strange coincidence, I had spoken Geese, I could have (at least with younger ears) distantly, faintly made out: “Wait up, you guys”, or “Come on you slowpokes”, or “What’s the hurry?”, or “Are we there yet?”, or “Keep the formation”, or some other Geese expressions to that effect. But I neither speak Geese nor have young ears so I don’t hear that; I’m not sure what I hear, but hear it I do, and what I hear is approaching.
And then I remember what that sound is, and I stop and turn and look up in the now-getting-even-louder sound’s direction: Ah, yes. Of course. Geese. Lots of them, lots and lots.
But here’s the instant mystery: I am walking the Pacific shore a January morning. North is back that-away (where my back is now facing), and the geese are coming from that-away, the way I’m facing, and that’s definitely south. These geese, then, are heading north. That, you guys, I think, say, though don’t scream, is the wrong direction. You want to turn and head south, warmer weather there. Unless you are snow geese, of course.
They don’t answer, just keep hollering and heading toward freezing north. Canadian geese, obviously, these mystic geese.
I have since asked a few neighbors, but I have received no rational explanation for this strange occurrence (which, by the way, I have observed more than once). Perhaps, offered one of them, they’re just practice flying, older geese teaching the young’uns the ropes.
Nope, I think. Not in groups of two hundred or more.
Perhaps they’re just confused (implying, perhaps you’re confused) suggests another.
Nope, no confusion here. Huge, sprawling V of mature (as far as I could make out) geese heading north in January.
Remains a mystery.
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© Wolfstuff
