Yesterday, David took three of his friends on a walk down the beach to see the
"biggest fallen tree in the world". You may not recognize it by that name. Perhaps you know it as that large uprooted tree laying on "the sandy beach" in Annis Bay. Or perhaps you remember it is the one an adult had to boost you up onto when the water level was too high to cross on foot on the beach. The log is long enough that all of the children at the Lake this summer could sit on it, and there would still be room for more. I don't recall it being there when I was a child, but I have had fun watching the next generation test their balance skills on it.I went to boost the first child up onto the log, to brave the balance beam left there by nature on the beach, and a flurry of goose
dander was blown into my face. I brought the child down and off flew a goose towards the water with some angry honking. As the feathers settled, I could see a nest built just at the base of that fallen tree close to the massive tangle of the long dead root system. I had no idea that a nest would have so many soft feathers lining the foundation of twigs and grass. One by one, adults lifted the children to have a close look at these massive eggs. The count was three. The eggs were larger than a child`s hand.Off we ran down the beach to let the mother get back to her work of keeping the
eggs warm. We stopped a long enough distance away to watch the mother goose return and to eat our snacks of apples, bananas, and oranges. Teh sun was setting and I knew it was time for us to make the trek back. I gave the boys a challenge. The goal on the way back was to make it by the nest without disturbing the mother goose again. The boys ran off ahead of the adults on their `covert mission`. In the distance, I could hear David singing snips of a song his grandmother taught him, `the one she`s been saving to make a feather bed`...
Go tell Aunt Rhodie,
ReplyDeleteGo tell Aunt Rhodie,
Go tell Aunt Rhodie,
The old grey goose is dead.
The one she's been saving,
The one she's been saving,
The one she's been saving,
To make a feather bed.
She died last Friday,
She died last Friday,
She died last Friday,
A standing on her head.
When I am singing that song with the kids, and doing the rest of its verses about the gander mourning and the goslings weeping, I always wonder why someone doesn't ask -- why was the goose standing on her head?
That is the question I would have had.
And still have.
Amazing shots Arta! A bird in flight like that! Stunning! And those little eggs. All practice for Russia I hear.
ReplyDeleteOn Monday last I was sad to see that the geese had hatched and were long gone. Just one empty egg on the gravel below the nest, apparently a successful hatching. One week, and nature can have moved right along.
ReplyDelete