'A WILD GOOSE CHASE'

Story ID:	1381
Written by:	Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe
Organization:	Retired RN/Freelance Writer and Photographer
Story type:	Only Here
Location:	Clarenville, Newfoundland and Labrador Canada
Year:	2003
Person:	Canada Geese and Me

‘A WILD GOOSE CHASE’

Sometimes along life’s way an event, person, place or thing causes you to detour and you find yourself in the midst of the most enlightening adventure.

My adventure began in the still, colorful days of autumn and
continues to this very day. I fell in love with the 'Shoal Harbor Geese'.

Little did I think I would have such a strange relationship with a gaggle of geese when I walked down to the old railway track one beautiful afternoon in late November with my camera. For years I had been coming to Shoal Harbor for vacations, but had never spent a whole winter in Newfoundland for thirty-two years.

I knew that Shoal Harbor/Clarenville was a Canada Goose Sanctuary. In late October and early November I had noticed the geese on several occasions as I drove the causeway connecting Shoal Harbor and Clarenville, NL. However, my attempts to photograph the wily birds were proving totally fruitless.

On this particular afternoon, however, it was a low tide, the geese were close to shore, it was a quiet day, and I had time, lots of time, to track down these beautiful birds. I walked to the Shoal Harbor wharf where friendly people always met, buying vegetables from the fresh vegetable stand, or attending to their boats and holding ‘tailgate conferences’ as I call them. I thought that since there were no boats coming or going, and no shocking noises to scare the birds, today was the day I would get my photos.

Well, I am sure you have heard of the ‘best laid plans that go astray’. The geese were nowhere to be seen. There was an older gentleman sitting on the wharf so I approached him and asked he if he had seen the geese.

With a strange look, and with one quarter of a cigarette dangling
precariously on his lip, he squinted at me over the smoke and asked, "What geese would that be Mrs.?"

I launched into a song and dance about these graceful, elusive birds that I wanted to photograph, and it just seemed to amuse him. Then he suggested that I could easily get a picture of a gull if I would just throw the feed to them.
No, I wanted geese, lots of geese.

Then the smoky gentleman posed the brutal question, "Ever eat 'em?"

By the look on my face he knew I was shocked and he laughed all the way back to the angle iron and four tires he called a truck, leaving a trail of smoke and the sound of a cough suggestive of an unquestionably destroyed pair of lungs.
So much for that I thought.

Then the kind lady selling her vegetables approached me, and told me the geese had left a short time ago but they usually came back just before a low tide to feed. I decided to take her advice and try another day.

Now, my interest in these birds didn't happen overnight. It came just as a gradual interest stirred by an offhand remark by somebody that these geese stayed in this area as long as they had some 'open water'. To determine how long they have been coming here is difficult. When asked, everyone replies, "As long as I can remember!" Whether the person is twenty or eighty years old, that is the token response to the question.

There is some folklore about the geese, but I'll research that another day. Right then I just wanted to enjoy their beauty, and gracefulness, feed them, and take photos.

My understanding of Canada Geese is that they are programmed by nature to fly South to escape the severe Canadian winters. I fretted about the birds getting cold until someone reminded me the Finches and Jays aren't cold so I let that worry sit on the shelf. In due time I got the photos, fed the geese, walked the shoreline at a low tide and had them around my feet. And I didn't get bitten.

Then in the grocery store one day I caught another goose story. I spotted an older gentleman I knew, standing and chatting with a friend. Finding an excuse to speak to them, I launched into my recitation about the geese.

"Oh, my dear. They've been here as long as I can remember."
Of course.

Then his friend started telling a tale of how his mother loved to get a goose to cook, so she could have some goose grease to apply to a chest when someone had a cold. Worked every time he declared! By this time another man had joined the group, at first listening, then his eyes clouded over, he turned red and started to laugh. He laughed and choked, and choked and
laughed. Finally he got enough air to relate the story of goose feather pillows they had as children. By this time the third member was gearing up to launch into his goose tale.

I slipped away.

The winter solstice came and went. The weather was bitterly cold, the harbor iced up and still the geese stayed. I thought about the little sweaters like those made for the victimized sea birds of the ‘Exon Valdez’ disaster, but then I came to my senses and realized that a goose dips under water, hence the little cardigans would get wet and freeze in the cold air.
Then one day the geese were all gone. There was not even one down near the wharf. I missed them terribly. Were they OK? Did anyone know anything regarding their location now? Were they getting feed? The only way to find out was to ask, so I did. I inquired of the gas station attendant as he was filling my car if he knew where the Canada Geese had gone.

"Nope" he said. "But you go up to the garage and ask buddy and he can tell ya. He's into that kinda stuff!"
Thankfully I knew that in Newfoundland if one cannot remember a specific name, then the person is automatically renamed ‘Buddy’.

So I visited the garage.

Not seeing anyone, I called out, "Buddy, are you in here?" There was a rattle of metal.

"Yeah, I'm down 'ere, what's the problem?" asked ‘Buddy’, who was attached to a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a car.
I launched into the usual 'goose inquiry'. Yes, sure enough, they'd been around as long as he could remember. And he didn't see them go, but he knew they would be back, leading me to ask how he knew that.

"Cause they likes us maid! Matter of fact I saw them in Lower Clarenville this morning. They'll head for Shoal Harbor tonight. Love to be in the cabin wid a few of dem roastin'!”

I hid my displeasure, thanked him and left. So, I discovered, that is what they do, spend so much time in each place, near open low tide waters.

Two days later, on one of the coldest days in February I went to Bayview Road in Clarenville and found my handsome, stately gaggle of the geese who just will NOT GO SOUTH!
They were all over the place, slipping and sliding, their webbed feet unable to grip the shiny smooth ice surface, but they seemed content. If one goose was sliding, he would stick his beak into the tail feathers of another walking by and get a good tow. There was evidence of them having been fed, but it was very cold!
I stood on the bank and asked them why they didn't go to a warmer place? They did not need tickets, it would cost them nothing, no baggage to lose and they could be somewhere in a farmer's field filling their bellies and soaking up the warmth in a southern climate, so why stay and freeze on those bitterly cold days when your words froze as you spoke them - causing a definite ‘teeth-chattering’ way of talking. Yes, it was THAT COLD!

Honk! Honk!

They wanted to be here. They were being fed, they were together, and they were quite satisfied. When I went to drive away, I found my car stuck solid in a snow drift. I tried my best to dislodge it to no avail. Two strong men came and helped this damsel in distress, and of course I launched into the story of what I was doing there, and how I once had seen a duck frozen to the ice while living in Nova Scotia, and had to be rescued. Now I feared for the geese. The duck that was saved had feet that took months to heal.

The older man just stared at me as if I had grown a third eye or he was seeing a vision of something quite bizarre.

Then he spoke, in what one could call a ‘rant’.

"The birds look OK don't they? Nobody got stuck, except you. I think, dear, that these are not just Canada Geese, they got a lotta Newfoundlander in 'em. They'll be fine. Now you just go and get warmed up yerself, the birds are gonna be just dandy!"

He walked away dragging his shovel behind him.

He was so right. I love the geese, but nature does not need my daily undivided indulgence. We all play a part, and if we share in the job of keeping an eye open for anyone or anything in distress, we all should do just fine.
The geese honked loudly as I drove away. I saw them in Shoal Harbor the next day, still looking splendid. So my detour into the 'gaggle of geese' gave me tremendous laughs, I met lovely people and I learned so much. My photos are great reminders of that adventure. Our geese are still here as I write this and people are used to me with my camera now and always tell me where
something interesting or unusual can be found worthy of a photo. So chance encounters led to even more adventures, the geese are great, and a random act of kindness has given me memories to tell my little six-year-old grandchild. I will take her to help me feed my geese when she visits, and she will remember her Nanny’s love of nature and of all living things, great and small.
The most wonderful thing is that the geese are already back for the upcoming winter. They are beautiful, and I still love them.
It could be worse my friend tells me. I, at least, did not start chasing around a ‘murder of crows’. If I try that and start asking if anyone has seen the ‘murder’, some real traumatic problems could develop!

So, I plan to continue to goggle at the ‘gaggle’ of my webfooted friends, because that goose could be somebody’s mother!

And that is the story of my somewhat odd interaction with those beautiful, graceful birds, our ‘CANADA GEESE!’

Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe.