THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, October 28, 1995 TAG: 9510270008
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A12 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Opinion
SOURCE: George Hebert
LENGTH: Medium: 60 lines
Canada geese, those regal birds with the sinuous necks and white chin straps, are usually most dutiful in responding to their particular calls of the wild - the urging to head north for breeding when the weather warms, or the beckoning of southern climes in the fall.
But sometimes the messages seem to get muddled, or accidents leave one stranded from the flock or bereft of its mate (maybe a few of them simply decide to escape the old flyway rat race). At any rate, we hereabouts occasionally find some of these great migrators not migrating at all but hanging around local waterways in odd seasons.
Several years back, one of the big birds took up all-season residence on the banks of the Lafayette River in Norfolk, not far from where my wife and I live (as noted in a piece I wrote at the time). Some avian eccentricity might have been involved, as this individual began consorting with a squadron of mallards and indeed seemed to think it was a duck, too.
More recently, in the same area we saw a pair of Canadians keeping company when they should have been with the main flocks elsewhere. Of course, half of this duo may have been that original stray (I can't tell one of these look-alikes from another). And this past spring, far from the traditional northern breeding grounds, this neighborhood twosome showed up with a string of web-footed fuzzballs in tow. I don't know how big the brood was originally, but five of the goslings grew to near-adults before we lost track of them for a while because of our own absences or simple failures to connect on our bike rides.
Several weeks ago, we encountered what I believe to be the same congregation, somewhat enlarged, still playing hookey from the migration crowd. Now there were 11 full-sized birds (by our reckoning: the family of seven plus four truant recruits from somewhere).
The same group (confirmed by the same count of 11) has put in feeding appearances on various river embankments since then, plus one time as a serene little armada in the water, close to shore and as disinterested in our passage as any farm-pond assemblage of some domesticated breed.
In the bird book that we consult on such things, the maps of migratory patterns are colored purple in those regions, between winter and summer habitation areas, where some populations of a species routinely stay the year round.
For Canada geese, our part of the continent shows no such purple sector.
Over the past several days, we haven't sighted the flock that seemed so (unseasonably) settled in. But from the comfortable vibes they were giving off at last sighting, I feel pretty sure they'll show up again one morning soon, 10 of them strutting around on somebody's shorefront lawn, nibbling and fattening, while the 11th keeps its head up and swiveling - the inevitable sentry.
So (what else?):
Color this bunch purple. MEMO: Mr. Hebert, a former editor, lives in Norfolk. by CNB