What’s good for the goose

I was engaged in a staring contest with a Canada goose. I lost.

In a recent stroll along the Fox River, I came upon a family of Canada geese. There were mom and dad in the charming company of their six adorable, fluffy offspring, busily grazing on fresh spring grass along the narrow strip of greenway between the sidewalk and the bank sloping down to the water. I should clarify: the male goose was not doing any eating. Mating pairs of Canada geese follow traditional gender roles: the female builds the nest and incubates the eggs, while the male, the gander, serves as guard and protector. As I approached, this gander was faithfully and diligently doing his job. The closer I got to his family, the more erect his posture became, and he locked his black eyes on mine. When I got to a spot opposite where mama and goslings were gorging on sweet shoots of grass, he was on high alert and positioned himself between me and his family. I was no more than eight feet from him.

Out of curiosity (or foolhardiness, if you prefer), I decided to stand there for a short while to observe the gander’s behavior. I stayed completely still, as did he. Over the next five minutes, he never budged or took his eyes off of mine. I was impressed that his family didn’t pay any attention to me, so trusting were they of his ability to protect them. When I became restless, I decided to try a little experiment: what would I need to do to prompt a reaction from him? I started by simply leaning my upper body slightly in his direction. That was enough. He opened his mouth wide, calling attention to his bill and tongue, both of which are serrated. Ouch. It was the goose equivalent of a suspicious dog baring its teeth. I wisely decided to walk on. Score one for the geese. Impressed by this bird’s pluck, I smiled as I went on my way.

Around here, it’s as if the Canada geese are in charge. Countless times since we moved here nine years ago, I’ve had to stop and wait in my car on a local street while some geese strolled across the thoroughfare. And I mean stroll. Blissfully unconcerned about the traffic jam they’re causing, the geese are seldom in any particular hurry in that situation. If you’re in the lead car, the lead goose invariably gives you a defiant look as if to say, “Don’t even THINK about moving. We OWN this place.” I find their bossiness and fearlessness endearing, but not everyone feels the same way about these large birds.

Canada geese have a PR problem. They seem to be everywhere: golf courses, public parks and parking lots, yards abutting or near water, retention ponds on corporate campuses, plowed corn fields. Wherever they are, they tend to take over. As herbivores with a diet consisting mostly of grasses, they are prolific poopers, creating unsightly messes on walkways and expanses of manicured lawns. Geese are quite vocal and loud. Some people find their honking less than poetic when the geese are their neighbors. Occasionally they also contribute to dramatic news headlines. There have been numerous reports of Canada geese attacking passers-by. There was also the well-known incident in 2009, when US Airways flight 1549 encountered a flock of migratory Canada geese after taking off from La Guardia Airport in New York. The birds are large enough that the collision resulted in a total loss of engine power. While the pilot landed the aircraft safely on the Hudson River, no human lives were lost, and Tom Hanks starred in the 2016 film inspired by the incident, the Canada geese struck by the aircraft didn’t fare so well, and the species’ reputation suffered another blow.

While it will surprise no one that conservationists classify this species as “least concern” from a population perspective, Canada geese weren’t always so numerous. By the early twentieth century, overhunting and habitat loss had dropped their numbers considerably. By the end of the century, conservation efforts and the reduction of their natural predators led to their rebound. And their numbers continue to increase, in some cases dramatically. Credit the adapatability of the Canada goose for its continued rise. It has learned to be comfortable around humans and has decided that some of our manmade landscapes are ideal habitats. Take parks and gold courses, for example. There is often water close by, which is a requirement, and they typically have large areas featuring the birds’ main source of food: grass. Even better, the well-tended lawns give them a sense of security; their openness makes it harder for a predator to sneak up on the geese. The birds have found some of these places in urban and semiurban areas so pleasing that increasing numbers of the north-breeding populations no longer migrate south for the winter. We have our own group of permanent residents here. Often in winter months I have seen them in local parks rooting around with their bills to find grass under the snow.

As much as I am not fond of dodging goose poop on the sidewalks of my favorite park, I have to admire their gumption, flexibility, and ability to survive – and even thrive – as their environment has changed. There is much else to admire about these large waterfowl. Those that migrate fly in their recognizable V formation, with experienced geese taking turns as the leader of the flock. This V formation, which is also used by aircraft flying together, reduces the birds’ wind resistance, enabling them to use their energy more efficiently. Canada geese can fly up to 1,500 miles in one day in favorable weather conditions.

My park encounter with the gander was evidence of how protective the geese are as parents. They can be downright fierce keeping any potential predators away from the nest and goslings – including other geese that invade their nest territory – and most of their aggression toward humans is to defend their young. Once the goslings hatch, they are fully able to walk, swim, and eat; the parents are on guard duty until the goslings reach maturity. Some of the adults also display a fascinating co-parenting behavior after the goslings hatch. After witnessing a pair of geese loudly and forcefully defend their nest from an encroaching goose pair a few weeks ago, I was surprised last week to see ten goslings peacefully swimming along with four adults. I have since learned that when there are a lot of geese nesting in relatively close proximity, different sets of parents will sometimes bring their goslings together, with the adults sharing babysitting duties. These groups are called crèches. Sometimes a large group of goslings (as many as 30 or more have been seen) will be overseen periodically by just one or two adults, which gives the other parents a welcome respite from their protector role. It’s another ingenious goose adaptation.

In a world where our natural environment is under relentless change, it is reassuring to me that the unmistakable sound of honking geese flying overhead will continue to be heard for some time to come. What’s good for the goose is our understanding.