The Lone Goose

 

I go to Lindo Lake every week.  During baby season, several times a week. I wish I could go daily, but I live about 20 miles away, so 40 miles round trip.  Not far, but during week days and San Diego traffic…eeek!  Plus I’m not a Rockefeller and at gas being over $4.00 a gallon, well let’s just say I WISH I could go every day, but I go whenever I can (at lease once a week).

 I love all the birds I encounter there.  But as I mentioned before the Canada Geese are my favorite, maybe because they know me and fly over to me, maybe because they’re just so beautiful and elegant, I’m not sure, but they are the ones I always seek out.  Several things have changed over the years.  They used to be one big flock, now they’re separated into groups and sometimes geese within these groups do not get along, but still they stick together.

 Which is why, when I see a lone goose, I get concerned.  They are never alone. Maybe not side by side of one another, but if there’s a goose, odds are their counterpart, mate, friend, sibling is near by.  Several weeks ago I saw a lone goose. Not only was he alone, but he was in an odd location.  He was at the far end of the small lake near the parking lot.  The Canada geese rarely venture over there and they sure don’t lie down and rest there.  I was about a hundred feet away when I saw him and I kept scanning for another one.  As I got closer I realized, not only was he alone, but he did not get up and walk towards me.  Now this is not my ego talking here. It’s not like I was thinking, “how dare he ignore me??!?”  All the Canada Geese walk, run, swim or fly over to me when they see me.  If they don’t do that, they at least give a half honk and their cute little grunt and look over at me.  But this loner, nothing.  I actually sat right in front of him, maybe two feet away and I as usual as I always do, started talking to him.  He looked at me, but once again, I got nothing as a response.  When I reached into my backpack for cracked corn he was not even fazed.  I knew something was wrong.  I continued to watch him and I saw his tired little eyes blink open and shut and then he stood up and reached his neck down and that’s when I saw it.  He had fishing line rapped around both legs and he was more or less hobbled.  By heart started pounding, I couldn’t leave him this way.  He couldn’t walk, he couldn’t swim. I had to help him.  I always carry scissors just for reasons like this.  Normally I see fishing line on one leg and that’s easy to cut away without the goose even noticing, but this was going to be more challenging.  I started looking around; I needed someone to help me.  I couldn’t hold him and cut the fishing line alone.  It was pretty early in the morning, but the usual dog walkers and walkers were always there, until now. There was no one to be seen.  I made an attempt to reach out and touch him and he jumped/half flew and landed in a thump. His tail end was near me and his legs were almost outstretched. I was thinking I could do it alone, but then I saw the blood all over his feathers.  There was a hook embedded in his foot and all his struggling had caused it to bleed.   I stood up frantically looking for someone and off in the distance I saw a man and woman walking their dog.  They were going to be my saviors.  (Well "Ricky's" saviors) 

  I asked them if they would help and the husband was more than willing.  I offered to hold the goose. I figured there’s a good chance this goose will bite when we hold him and I cannot ask a stranger to take the chance of getting bit.  I have never touched a goose before.  When I knelt down next to him, I reached out and put my hand on the center of his back and slowly rolled him towards me and then I slowly ran my hand down the front of his neck to hold him still.  Even in this moment, I could not help but notice; he was the softest thing I have ever touched.  He was softer than silk in my hands.  And at this point, he gave up fighting. I tucked him to my chest and he just laid there.  We got the fishing line and lure off his legs, but that darn hook was embedded.  The nice man helping tried to remove it but he was having no luck so we switched jobs and he held the goose while I tried to remove the hook.  By this time we had drawn quite a crowd, people were so happy we were helping the poor fellow.  Try as I might, the hook would not budge, blood was running down my hands and onto my arms and I had to stop.  Not that the sight of blood bothers me, I was hurting him and not making any progress.  Fortunately one of the spectators had some wire cutters in his trunk and he jumped into the fray.  Within moments the hook was out, we stepped back and gave him some room.  He took a deep breath, ruffled his feathers and just sat there.  I stepped further back and he stood up and started to walk.  He was limping of course, but he was heading to the water.  It was a good sign. I felt so good after that. Sure I was covered in blood and dirt, but if I had not walked that particular way (which normally I don’t) I never would have seen him and known something was wrong.  Most people would walk by and probably think he was fine, but me being hyper aware of their behavior, I knew something was wrong.

 The next day I had to check on him.  I wanted to make sure he was fairing well.  I walked around both lakes and saw no sign of the lone goose (or a limping goose)  and then I did see him, he was on a small little island by himself (meaning no other Canada Geese) he was with the Pelicans and Cormorants and he had his own little corner, right by the water and plenty of grass nearby.  I wasn’t concerned that he was alone; I figured it was a good place for him to re-hab.  He couldn’t very well run with an injured foot.  I went to check on him several more times after work and the small little group of three became four again and Ricky had re-joined his comrades.