Canada
Geese III
Some Observations on a Geese Community
For a human-animal
to come to know another kind of animal, particularly a wild or non-domestic animal, is
extremely difficult. To know a non-human animal, bird or other natural being
requires patience, selfless watching, admiration, indulgence, open mindedness,
listening, a willingness to trust, and ultimately a willingness to love.
It is much harder to come to know a wild
being than it is to know another human. Wild birds, snakes, mountain lions,
foxes, wild forests and deserts are so far outside human concerns and interests
that they are much harder to get to know than speakers of a foreign language,
people of another race, class or ethnicity. It takes much more time and
dedication, even reverence, to get to know wild beings. Love grows slowly, and
requires great amounts of time to grow. This is the primary reason so little is
known about wild animals, birds or beings in the sea. Few will spend the time,
few care, few even know that such radically other and wild and hidden lives
exist. Wild birds and animals exist in almost another dimension than humans. The
failure to learn about and be sensitive to their lives is now having disastrous
consequences on many species. Human ignorance, malice, fear and myths and
falsehoods about animals and nature abound, and little has been done to correct
this sad fact.
I have heard farmers say that they never
name their domestic farm animals because they are going to kill them, and not
naming them makes the killing easier. This shows how much human emotions are
locked inside language as a system of cultural and emotional control. Naming the animal to be killed somehow
gives the animal a more sympathetic value to the farmer. Not naming it makes the
animal foreign, other, mere future meat for the table. Depersonalizing an
animal makes it easier to kill it. Impersonal study also creates distance and
alienation, and this is one reason science has contributed to the
destruction of of nature. The degree to which humans impersonalize and distance
themselves from animals and nature partly because humans are trapped and alienated by their own language.
Wildness is in the realm of the unspeakable, the ignored, even the shunned. Human
languages are cultural prisons, in a way, because they are abstract, and have
lost touch with a concrete and direct experience of non-human worlds and ways of
being.
One must abandon the cultural conceit that human
language is superior to other forms of communication. One must stop listening to
the words in one's head and listen to the wordless wonders being expressed all
around us in nature. Real looking at the world of non-human beings
requires trying to stop one's thinking in terms of human concepts, culture and
languages. One must unlearn such absurd beliefs as the conceit that humans have
been given "dominion" over the earth, or that humans are "made in god's image".
Wild geese, like pristine forests, need no "stewards", landlords or gods. The
suggestion that mankind "owns" or has dominion over ravens or eagles, ospreys,
forests, lakes,
elephants or foxes is laughable.
One must learn to value
and prize the rebellious arrogance of wild things. Their arrogance is their
freedom from us, their fierce devotion to their own lives. Wild things despise
the mere suggestion of human "stewardship" and "dominion". The Acorn Woodpecker
has its own 'dominion', thank you, as does the Flicker and the Beaver. Wild horses will not
willingly submit to human self importance, nor should they. I have never quite
been able to admire the human domination of horses or horse racing nor the
myraid other ways that humans "tame", "break", domesticate and abuse other
species. The falcon screams freedom, and the lion
despises his cage, and the polar bear must have his freedom to range across
thousands of miles of snow. Even the chickadee's sounds express fierce
opposition
to human control, capture and limitations. Natural beings have their own
integrity, their own notion of rights, their own culture, their own ways of
seeing.
If one
would know animals one must abandon most of what one was taught in
schools. Indeed, young children, prior to adolescence, usually have a
strong affinity with animals and nature, and come to understand much about them
easily. This affinity appears to be innate. This sympathy is often destroyed in most
children by the time they are
past adolescence, unless an adult supports their interest in nature of animals or
they simply refuse to accept the cultural conditioning against nature and
animals. The culture
teaches children by example that there is an impenetrable wall separating nature from the human
and that humans are superior and that nature exists merely for human use and
domination. This is the lie of "speciesism", and a very effective lie, much
like the lies of racism and sexism. To unlearn the cultural prejudices one must
give up being influenced by speciesist cultural expression, often conveyed
variously in religion, on T.V., in books and through business and government.
Then one must learn to listen as possible to the voices of the cultures in nature.
Natural communities do express their own cultural norms and values. You must let animals and birds "steward" and
guide you. You must give up your culturally determined need of power, of being
ascendant, superior, and better than nature and animals. You are not better, and
not superior. Revere them and grant them their freedom and their independence
and they will begin teaching you who they are. They might even begin teaching
you who you are.
So, with these general observations in mind, which I have learned from watching
many different birds and animals in their natural settings, I want to talk
here, on this page, about just one kind animal or bird: Geese, specifically, Canada Geese. They
are extraordinary beings, quite as amazing and full of variety and wonder as
human beings. In some respects they are an improvement on human beings, and
certainly their devotion to each other, to community, to their young, and their
spare and effective use of their own non-linguistic language has much to
recommend it over human cruelty, was, greed, selfishness and need of power.
When I first started
studying them some years ago, I could only grasp very simple things about them.
I became aware that my culture had taught me nothing whatsoever about them,
other than that they migrate. Indeed, my society had taught me virtually nothing
about the natural world that is all around us. Nearly everything I have learned
about it I have learned on my own. The society I grew up in had built a wall
between me and the natural world made of prejudice, hatred, willful ignorance,
neglect, will to power, greed and speciesism. I wanted to climb over this wall
of ignorance, as I had done with other animals and birds and with nature
generally. I knew that climbing over the wall that separates nature from
Euro-American society would make me somewhat of an outsider to that society.
I knew that by climbing over the wall, I too would have to learn to live in a
threatening environment, as do threatened species and indigenous cultures. There
are perils in siding with the victims, outcastes and neglected who live outside
our societies. There are perils in siding with beings that our society abuses
neglects or treats with malice or indifference. One becomes a sort of
sensitive coyote, wandering outside the walls of the town, wary of all the
dangers that come from the town. One becomes aware that a whole different way of
living and being is not just ignored by the people who live behind the walls of
the human city, but that the way of nature and animals is largely hated by these
people, and they want to exploit it, destroy it, limit or abuse it for their own selfish interests.
I knew Canada Geese were beautiful birds and had watched them flying with wonder and
admiration. I knew some people despised them for their droppings, which has
always struck me as hypocritical. Canada Geese droppings are small and dissolve
in the rain, and are hardly a health danger, whereas human droppings, waste and
garbage are
everywhere and pollute whole rivers and ecosystems. So I already knew Geese were
being scapegoated by human hypocrisy and that in many towns and cities they were
being killed. Those who scar the land with golf courses, cattle, parking lots,
strip mines, air pollutants, clear cutting and
shopping malls did not like Geese walking on their manicured grass. So they shoot them.
Hunters kill them for fun and the feeling of power it gives them. Yet the same
society that targets Geese, and many other animals, knows virtually nothing
about them. Ignorance and malice often go together.
One of the first things that endeared me to Geese
was seeing their goslings. The goslings are a pale yellowish and green, almost
the color of a new grass shoots, or the emerging petal of a daffodil or a new
leaf just beginning to spread out from a bud on a tree. Yes, the color of
goslings is the color of spring, the color of new grass, new leaves, new flower
petals. Their young feathers shine and glisten in the sun.
They usually hatch from their eggs in May, in the area where I live, and the
solicitousness of their parents impressed and amazed me. Their parents are
highly protective of them and the female will often lift her wing slightly and
let them gather under her wing for warmth and security. They go under her wings to seek
shelter from the storm, and they rest there at night. She covers them to keep
them safe for predators. With a gentle sound from her, I have seen them
all scurry under her wings where it is safe. The gander, the father of the
goslings, stands watch over the little ones and their mother, very proudly, his
strong neck raised high and looking about in all directions, guarding and
protecting them all.
NESTING SPACES and the COMMUNAL WEB
Nearly
anyone who remembers their mother can recall feeling the need of her protection
and safety, and who, as it were, took one under her wings as a child. I have
even sought safety and refuge, on occasion, under the wings of my mother as an
adult. Then, with the passage of years, as she grew weak and confused, I took her
under my wings and sheltered her from harms as best and as long as I could.
My own mother helped me understand something of the intimate lives of Canada
Geese and just how much their lives share essential things in common with mine.
But
I am getting ahead of my story. I had watched geese in many places and had grown
increasingly fascinated with them and their behavior. But I had not yet found a
nesting site where I could watch them more intimately. I finally did find such a
site at Hero's Wetland, the same place where I had been studying Orioles and
other birds. The first pair I watched nest lived almost immediately under the tree where Hero, the baby Oriole, had been born and the next
year they nested again in the same group of trees. I called the pair Hero's
Geese, since they nested on the little peninsula where the Orioles had nested two
years in a row.
I watched the Geese intensively for about
three years, less so in recent years, since we moved away from that area. The
first year I watched them was a constant marvel. Hero's wetland lies along a
river, and is periodically flooded by the river, usually in spring an early
summer. This, along with rain, sustains water levels in the Wetland. Some years, when
there is less rain, the wetland has dried out in August and early fall, although
not for long and never entirely, such that the frogs and turtles are able to
return for the next season. The total population of Geese in the Hero's
flock was about 90 birds in August or September. This number appeared to be
diminished by the following spring to 60 or 70 birds. I puzzled over what
happened to the 30 or so birds who were missing after their migration in the
Spring. I suspect hunting had something to do with the loss, as they migrate out
of the safe, non-hunting area where Hero's Wetland is located. Also, I believe that some of the young
birds, yearlings and two year olds, leave the Hero's community to join other
communities.
Hero's Geese, I figured out, after watching
them nest over two years, where something like elders in the community. They
were very successful at nesting, unlike some of the other pairs, particularly the
younger ones. Hero's Geese managed to enable all of their eggs to survive. They
had three goslings some 30 days after the eggs were laid. I watched the female
nest most of the days of this period and she was remarkably faithful to her
nest site. The more time I spent near her the more I admired her abilities. She
was extremely gentle and tender with the eggs and turned them often. She pulled
down out of her own breast to soften the grasses in which the eggs lay. The soft
down feathers were lilac in color and on colder days, when she would feed in the
wetland a short distance from the nest, she covered the eggs with the down and
grasses. On unseasonably warm days she visibly suffered sitting in the sun. But
she was devoted and endured. Her husband, the gander, was always near her,
protecting her, watching out for dangers, attentive. He would watch the
nest more closely when she left it to feed. Their communications were
quite complex, unlike what the bird books say, which describe Geese
communications as being elementary. But the female would often alert her husband
to another goose approaching before he saw it. In other words, she was quite
able, through carefully modulated sound, to direct his attention to an incoming
danger. The offending goose or geese were usually one of the yearlings or
two year olds. He would chase off the interloper, sometimes with her help.
Once this was done the pair would make sounds toward each other,
as if reaffirming their commitments to the nesting area and to each other.
During events like this, the communications of the Geese were quite complex. The
ability to influence the minds of others is supposed to be a trait of "higher"
species, like Dolphins and Orangutans and humans. But the notion of "higher"
or "key"
species is a self serving, anthropomorphic projection. Most humans
underestimate animals and birds, as well as nature generally, while they vastly
over estimate their own importance. This underestimation of natural beings
is built into the sciences. The Geese I watched were quite able to communicate
very complex things to eachother, in ways that were both simple and beautiful. I
sometimes found myself wishing that my own language could be as direct and
unambiguous as the non-linguistic language of Geese. Human communication is very
cumbersome and has many faults built into it.
On one occasion, where I was watching a different community of Geese a
few miles up river from Hero's, I saw a group of ten or twelve Geese try to stop
a raccoon from eating eggs out of one of the nests. The raccoon was already on
top of the nest, and apparently the mother and
father of the nest had been too far away to defend it soon enough. They failed
to stop the predation. But in other cases I believe the Geese succeeded by group
efforts of this kind. There were many Raccoons and a Fox at Hero's and some of
the nests were destroyed by Raccoons. I witnessed one such event and the loss of
the eggs was due to the parents, who appeared to be young geese, having spent
too long a time too far away from the nest, allowing the raccoon an opening to
steal and eat the eggs. On another occasion I found the recently eaten carcass
of a goose, apparently killed by the fox. But this was only one example. The fox
was often around and it managed only to get one goose. So the
Geese are apparently quite able to keep themselves safe from Foxes, most of the
time. I believe they also can fend off raccoons if they are vigilant enough, and
saw the Geese harassing Raccoons a number of times. I
watched once when a red Tailed Hawk landed in the branch of a tree above a goose
and a gander and their four goslings. The parents saw the Hawk and called the
goslings under their wings, and looked up at the Hawk with threatening postures,
honking. The Hawk gave up his notion of eating the goslings.
There are various hazards to nesting on the
ground. Foxes, Raccoons and Hawks are three such hazards. But there is also the need to
keep the eggs warm. Young nesting geese, who appear to be inexperienced, sometimes stay
away from the nest too long and the eggs die from exposure, becoming too cold. A
few of the nests at Hero's failed for this reason. In addition, sometimes nests
fail because the eggs are
sterile. Nesting is certainly in part a learned activity, and once of the
valuable things about the larger nesting community at Hero's is that the older
Geese, who are more successful at nesting, provide an example of how to deal
with the hazards of nesting on the ground. This was demonstrated to me over a
number of years, when drought and human alterations in the environment caused
the water levels to differ sharply from year to year. The geese responded to the
loss of eggs in resulting from these changes by building different kinds of
nests over different years. For instance, before the more recent higher water
levels, the geese tended to nest on peninsulas and the two or three islands in
the pond. But when water levels rose above what was safe for nesting on these
islands and some nests failed the geese clearly thought out the problem and came
up with solutions by the next year. So now there are new kinds of nests at
Heroes. One nest is on a 5 foot height stump of an old sycamore tree that has
fallen, Other nests are on top of fallen logs in the water. One goose
built her nest up out of the water of reeds and bog grasses, and very good idea
since she can raise the nest to the height she wants it by augmenting the
grasses.
There are other threats to the community of nesting Geese
besides other animals and rising water levels.
Occasionally, I would see a pair or group of Geese of unknown origin fly into
the Wetland and this would cause trouble, with the result that the gander of one
of the nest areas would chase off the visitors, head down, threatening to bite.
Most of these threats are quite harmless, and rarely resulted in an actual bite.
I only saw a truly violent confrontation between the Geese twice. Once when a
goose got in between a gander and its newborn gosling. The gander saw this as a
real threat to the goslings and was very vicious in chasing off the other goose.
The worst occasion of violence that I saw was between
two nesting ganders of Hero's wetland-- two Geese that were probably
related and nested 50 feet from each other. The circumstances were these: there was an especially violent and heavy rainstorm about midway in the nesting season. The
river was much higher than usual and flooded the wetland, raising the water level
more than a foot. this resulted in drowning a number of the nests. All the eggs
were destroyed in these nests. I arrived at Hero's while the storm was still
raging. One of the pairs of Geese whose nest had been lost had left the
nest site with his mate and they had crossed into the nesting area of another
pair. The gander who lost his nest attacked very viciously the gander who did not
lose his nest. It was an extremely violent attack and probably resulted in some
injury, though nothing bad enough to be visible. It was very clear that the
goose that had lost the nest was extremely distraught from his loss.
Geese certainly have emotions and complex psychological reactions to stress,
much as humans do. The attack on the goose who did not lose his goslings was clearly born of
frustration and
anger. With humans, suffering and extreme hardship produce similar
reactions. In areas where there is poverty and over population, stress levels
increase crime rates and violent altercations. It is the same with Geese. The
storm ruined many nests, and this produced frustration and anger in the Geese
who suffered the hardships. The gander lashed out violently against his nearest
neighbor, who may well have been his brother or cousin.
One of the saddest events I witnessed with the Geese at Hero's was
watching a young female who sat on her eggs over 40 days. Generally the eggs
hatch out by 35 days, but in this case it did not happen. She kept sitting on
them past their due date. She became visibly distraught and nervous about the
eggs. When Geese are suffering from the heat they open their mouths slightly and
appear to pant somewhat. This goose was doing this while she sat on her
nest. But more than this, she began to pace around the nest, pulling out grasses
with her beak and tucking the grass under her rump behind her. She did this in a
circular fashion, walking a few steps around the nest, pulling up grass, tucking
the grass behind her, walking a few more steps and doing it again, and so on, in
a circular path around her failed nest. The pulling up and tucking behind of the
grasses is what they do when they begin to build the nest. So it appeared that
this goose, having sat on her nest over forty days, with the weather becoming
increasingly hot, had become nervous with worry, and she expressed this as a
neurotic imitation of nest building activity, but the activity had no purpose,
other than expression of her frustration at the failure of the nest. It was a
very moving thing to see and I wished I could have helped her somehow. I felt a
deep compassion for her plight. She worked so hard to bring her little ones into
the world and they died in the eggs. It was very much as if a woman who lost her
child, nevertheless continued to prepare for its arrival, buying the expected
one clothes or a crib. But the child was gone and she could not face the fact.
It was very clear that the goose that had lost the her babies was extremely
distraught from the loss, much like the gander I saw who became violent after
the storm destroyed his nest. In both cases the tragic nature of the events
resulted in extreme reactions in the emotional lives of these sensitive and
wonderful birds. They take nesting very seriously, and the loss of a nest is an
occasion where their suffering is visible and acute.
I never saw any evidence of outright cruelty among the Geese,
though they could be severe with each other when there were conflicts. But there
is nothing like the malicious and cruel ignorance and violence of which humans are capable.
One day I found some human adult footprints leading up to a nest, and the nest
was destroyed and the eggs were gone. It was an act of malice, that had no other
point than mindless destruction. On another occasion, I saw two teen age boys
about to hit the Hero's Geese female with a large stick. I had been watching her
for weeks and she had grown accustomed to me. But I never went closer than
twenty feet to the nest and never approached the area at all without a discrete
announcement that i was coming.. These boys were about to hit her across the neck
with the stick. They probably would have killed her. I screamed from a distance
and they stopped. I saw the same young man on another occasion trying to harm
frogs.
Geese do not have this tendency to malice and
cruelty. Their communities work marvelously well, and the only real threat to
their well being is humans.
Part of the Community (detail)
COMMUNITY NOT "TERRITORY"
One thing that became
clear very soon after I began studying Geese is that they do not have
"territory" in any sense of ownership. Mallards, other ducks, small birds,
herons, muskrats, turtles and frogs, among others, regularly crossed or shared the
nesting area. Even some Geese were allowed within the area, within certain
limits. The relation of Hero's Geese to other pairs of Geese nesting in proximity to them was
close and cooperative for the most part. The nesting Geese joined together to
face common threats. I began to see that what I was looking
at was not an isolated pair in a territory, but a community of complex relations. There
were many nests at Hero's Wetland. The
whole notion of their being territorial boundaries, in the sense of ownership of
private property, or discrete nuclear families in competition, disappeared. This
notion of territorial natural selection is a projection of capitalist values on
the natural world. The projection dissolves on closer examination.
What the Geese were doing was not defending a
territory, but preserving a lattice of communal relations in the nesting area and doing so
only in regard to the safety of the nests. The proximity of many nests in the
same area, each joined to the others, and each separated by a boundary of
respect, established a kind of web of relations among all the nesting pairs. The
Geese community consisted of interlocking cooperative nest areas. There were
clear relations and alliances between the various families.
Any pair that made certain honks because of a threat was often echoed by the
nearby pairs, who also became concerned about the threat. They would sometimes
join in on the chasing away of the interloper, and the severity of the
expulsion of the offending goose appeared to depend on what the relationship was.
Geese from different flocks who landed at Hero's Wetland appeared to be treated
more harshly than Geese from
the Hero's flock. What initially appeared to be separate territories was actually an
interlocking web of cooperative nesting spaces, each one an expression of a larger communal
relationship.
The notion of territory is a dogma in
evolutionary theory and ornithology. But I started doubting its validity because
of what I saw the Geese doing. The Geese
were not creating territories, but life spaces, a nesting community, a communal
web of nesting spaces, and the
apparent arguments between geese were something much more complex and
interesting than the mere assertion of capitalist values, land rights or ownership
or competition among nuclear families. A flock of Geese is a cooperative colony,
not a bunch of separate family units of obsessed with their own advantage and
territory.
The reference of most of the behavior of Geese to the larger community is constant across the
spectrum of their lives. Even in the mating ritual, (described in the poem
"Coats of Liquid Light") , the Geese often call out after mating to the rest of
the flock. "We have done this" they seem to be saying. Moreover,
even before they begin mating, the Geese pairs chose out an area where they will
nest. The mating goes over days and even a week, often many times a day.
There is thus a close attachment not only to each other
but also to a place. One rather humorous detail of their attachment to place and
the relation of other species in the area to the Geese is the following. A pair
of Geese I was watching mate were observed by a pair of Blue Wing Teals, a kind
of duck, who had the odd habit of mating at Hero's Wetland over some weeks but
then leaving to nest elsewhere. This pair came to Hero's every year to do this.
One day I watched the Geese mate and then the Teals mated on the
exact same spot, no more than a minute after the Geese had ended their mating.
It seemed the Teals not only had a certain respect for the mating of Geese, but
they chose to imitate the act, even down to the choice of spot!!! The Geese had
created a congenial environment not only for themselves, but for other species
too.
Interspecies affection is an interesting subject. I suspect that there is much
more interspecies
interactions and awareness than human- animals know about. There is a
tendency to see "affection" among
animals in human terms-- which may be a mistake. These two Blue Wing Teals
return to mate in this pond every year-- they do not nest in it, but apparently fly further north-- but there is
clearly a relation of the Teals to the Geese
that has an "affectionate" dimension-- though the exact nature of this affection
is hard for humans to understand-- it is a
relationship that is subtle and profound enough to move the ducks to mate not
only in the same wetland as the geese but on the same spot. There are many things
in nature that simply are not noticed by humans because of our tendency to see
things in human terms. Mating on the same spot is not something humans are
likely to do-- but it appeared to have great meaning to the Teals.
individual pairs of Geese have
a strong bond to one another, but this bond is closely allied to another bond
they share with the entire community
of Geese. The shape of the community is clear by late summer and into the
Autumn, when the young begin to learn to fly. Then one can see clearly that the
separation of pairs and defense of the nesting area of each pair was a temporary
phenomena, which was not about "territory" at all but rather about preserving the
integrity of each nesting area within the larger context of the whole life of the Geese
community.
The transient nature of the nesting
spaces created during the period of sitting on the eggs is shown when the eggs finally hatch. I was able to
witness what happens
after the egg hatching with many of the pairs. The first year there were seven active nests around the wetland, with more near
the river, and some more in an adjacent floodplain forested area. The
second year there were nine active nests around the wetland alone. The third year
the numbers were similar. Of these I was able to see the first
days of the goslings of numerous pairs. In each case, the parents
lingered near the nest for the first day, while the little ones learned about
the elements, experienced swimming for the first time, and how to eat. But
within a short time, no more than a day or two, the parents abandoned the nest,
and led the goslings first toward the woods and then toward to river. I was amazed that all the families I saw do
this went in the same direction. They first headed toward the woods, where they
might stay for another day or two, eating vegetation, and then they would go
south toward the river.
The Geese of Hero's Wetland on The River
( details of Barn Swallow painting)
Moreover, once the nest site was abandoned, arguments between pairs and other
geese cease, for the most part, if not entirely. Within a month, as the birds go
into their molting cycle, the Geese and gosling merge into a group again. In
fact they always were a group, and not separate pairs in a "territory".
The separations were merely apparent.
Once the birds leave the nesting area with the
goslings the flock could be found down at the river. The flock would fluctuate in
size, some pairs wandering off for some time and then returning. Bad weather
would usually bring the entire flock together, and they would all return to
Hero's Wetland. The river could be very swift and dangerous for the Geese after a
heavy rain. Hero's was a safe haven for them, as well as the place where they
were all born.
In any case, the period of learning,
schooling and molting
extends roughly from May until migration, which can be as late as December. The
females with goslings tend to gather together on the river and share duties in
watching the young. It amounts to a kind of baby sitting. The are occasional
disagreements about proximity of the goslings of one family to the family of
another pair. But these disagreements are mild. The community is composed of
families that are together, but at the same time separate. As the young are born
at slightly different times in May, they are of slightly different sizes. The
littler ones interact with the larger ones and all the goslings get to know the
adults, and learn which of the adults are friendly and which are not. But
in any case, the community holds together, despite differences between families,
arguments and disputes. The young learn to be part of the group before they
learn to fly. Learning to fly comes some months after
hatching. The parents molt in late summer as the goslings are growing their
wing feathers for flying.
In other words, the community of
Geese took one form during the mating and nesting period, where all the Geese
together, adults and juveniles, created an interlocking, almost honey-comb
like lattice of communal and cooperative relations. These relations composed the
flock into a union that helped the whole community to withstand stresses and
dangers. The form of the community changed after nesting, when the Geese all
moved to the river, and there the community sought safety for molting and the
education of the young. In July and August I would often see the Geese on the
river in groups of many adults and babies. Some of the parents would be
leading goslings of other parents, some would be leading their own, but all of
them would be loosely together. They rested and preened on pebble strewn
sandbars in the river. These months were an largely quiet and idyllic time for
them, with warm nights and long days, with the young growing stronger each day
and the whole flock gathering strength for migration and the coming winter.
To summarize, the creation of
discrete nesting spaces
for each pair during the period of sitting on the eggs had only one object, and that was the hatching of
the goslings. Once the goslings were hatched, the community reasserts its
primacy and the discrete boundaries between each nesting pair largely dissolve.
Their
main concern is not the creation of "territories" but rather, community.
The Geese immediately seek out other families and begin to gather together to
help raise each others goslings. The nesting occurs in late March to April, the
hatching in May, education of the young by the community goes on till the fall
into the winter when the whole group will migrate. Upon the return the following
early spring, these geese begin this cycle again.
Water into Air (detail)
THE YOUNG IN THE COMMUNITY
The community of Geese was composed of mated pairs of
various ages. There are the older adults who nest and younger pairs nesting for
the first or second time. Then there were the yearlings, who had been goslings
the previous year, and two year old juveniles, who had not yet found a mate. The
yearlings in the group experience a big change in their lives in their
second spring, a year after their birth. They are used to being attended to by
their parents. But as their parents begin a new nesting cycle, they begin pushing
the young of last year away, not far away, but away enough that the parents can
watch over their new nest. The yearling and two year olds are the
"troublemakers" of the community. They are too old to be babied, and too young
to know quite what to do. These young birds were the jokesters of the community
and the source of most of the trouble and humor. In most cases when there was an
altercation resulting in a bird being chased off, it was one of these juveniles
that was being chased off. This happened so often that I began to think that
much of what humans consider to be territorial dispute among Geese are actually
something different. The yearling Geese never go away far. In fact, they tended
to situate themselves right in the middle of all the nesting pairs, such that
they were still never far from their parents. The yearling Geese formed a kind of
sub-community within the larger community, and they created a kind of adolescent
society. They got themselves into a lot of trouble, but in the process they
appeared to be learning to be adults. A lot of the noisy altercations in a geese
community are actually a form of play. The play appears to be about learning the
limits of the community. The young Geese learn throughout the nesting period
what it means to nest and what the parents will tolerate and not tolerate. In
short, much of the behavior of the adults towards the yearlings was a kind of
schooling.
I was unable to tell if there was a sexual
division among the juveniles or if both females and males were part the group. I
suspect that both males and females were part of the this group. But I found it
much harder to tell sex differences among the young than among the adults. I
also could not distinguish clearly birds that could be yearlings and birds that
might be two years old.
Occasionally the young birds would
fly off together, in a kind of temporary migration formation, and return later. The nesting
adults would all set up a clangor at their return and the young would be chased
from nesting area to nesting area until they finally settled down in what seemed
to be a neutral zone, where they could preen and nap.
One of the most interesting things I saw the group of
juveniles do was play a certain sort of game. Hero's Wetland has a lot of dead
snags--- old trees, mostly sycamores and cottonwoods that have died because of
the wet conditions. Some of these dead snags have been dead for some years and
they tend to break off at points where one of the many woodpeckers who live
around Hero's have built a nest. The cavity nest weakens the tree. After a
wind storm I would sometimes find the parts of these trees fallen. A few of
these trees have broken off 30 feet or so above ground, leaving a very tall
stump, that had a sort of platform at the top, where the trunk had broken off.
The young geese liked to fly up to the top of the stump. Another young one would
see this and a commotion would begin. Another young goose would fly up to the
one standing atop the stump and try to displace the bird. It would succeed in
some cases and in others fail. The Goose who held the top of the stump would
then be the object of yet a third, forth or fifth goose, who would fly up and
try to displace it. this would go on for quite some time, with many of the
juveniles becoming involved. Sometimes two geese would try to displace the one
at the top. I saw this game played four or five times over the years. I do not
know if such games are unique to Hero's Geese or if similar or different games
are played in other communities. But it appears this this game had some
influence on the geese coming to build nests on top of some of the higher
stumps. As the younger geese aged they turned what they learned at play into a
means of increasing the safety
of their eggs. This is also what humans do, where games serve a similar meaning
as a way of children learning about living in a larger world.
Canada geese at Play and Nesting
(detail of Yellow Warbler painting)
It would be interesting to study distant but related
communities of Geese. This is the area of Geese relationships that I understand
the least. It was never clear to me why there were fewer geese after their
return from migration, and what the two-year or three-year-olds do exactly when they form
mating pairs. I suspected that the older geese at Hero's were aware of other,
perhaps related, communities elsewhere along the river system, perhaps miles
distant, and that some of the juvenile birds that left Hero's community joined these other communities.
I surmise that there is some understanding of the community of Geese that
live in surrounding areas. The juveniles would often go on what appeared to be
flying excursions in the fall. Five geese would disappear for awhile and then
return, for instance. Did they encounter other Geese communities on their
travels?
On occasion I wondered if some of the flocks of Geese
that rested at hero's wetland but did not stay were communities that lived up the
river somewhere or even further away. Do the young Geese that grew up at Hero's
and left return for a visit? But I
am speculating. I don't know. Nor could I determine how many of the yearling
Geese actually left the flock. it appeared that many stayed through the second
year and some became parents at Hero's. I don't know how many. Nor could I determine if any Geese from
other flocks joined the Hero's Geese. I suspect so. But I could not find out. Indeed, to determine this would require putting tags on the geese, radio collars
or other such invasive practices. I have no interest in doing this sort of
thing and think it of questionable ethics. The only real and ethical way to come
to know Geese more thoroughly would be to live with them for many years. With
time one gets to know individual Geese, as I got to know Hero's Geese and could
sometimes recognize them. It would be possible to recognize all the member of
the entire flock if one gave them that much time. But one would also have to
come to know adjacent flocks of Geese that might live miles distant. To know how
nearby communities of Geese interact with distant communities would be hard to
study.
COMMUNICATIONS
The complexity of the sounds Geese make is remarkable, and
much more subtle than seems to be indicated in some of the literature about
Geese. The sounds are often associated with body postures of various kinds,
which seem to modulate their meaning. For instance, with the behavior called
"head tossing" or "head flipping", the motion of flipping the head up and down
is usually made by the male in the direction of the female of a pair sometimes
with honks of various intensities. It seemed to signify mild irritation at
another goose, not part of the pair, that is nearby. But this is not invariable.
But the motion occurs so often especially prior to or during nesting, that it
seemed to have much more meaning than I was able to divine. I saw them use the
head flipping motion also when a group was about to take off. There were also
particular modulations of the familiar honk which appeared to mean that flight
as a group was soon to occur. Occasionally these organized movements weemed to be
the result of one goose as leader, but other times, the decision appeared to be
a group descision.
Head tossing is one
of many signals and sounds that Geese use to both communicate with their mates
and with the larger community of Geese. A Geese colony is a very noisy place. To
humans, hearing it for the first time, it seems chaotic and the Geese appear to
be aggressive and "territorial". But this is a very superficial understanding of
what is going on. The apparent cacophony of the Geese colony actually is the
sound of complex communications being voiced from nesting pair to nesting pair,
from adults to juveniles, and from Geese who might not be part of the local
community who have wandered in.
I have seen and heard a gander on
the pond call out to a group of ten or so geese flying hundreds of feet above
the pond, and as a result of the call the flying geese changed direction. It is
also clear, watching Geese who are migrating, that sounds that indicate
direction changes are a regular feature of their long distance flights. The lead
Geese call out changes to the Geese that fly behind them.
This ability to use sound to indicate
direction can be quite complex. For instance. In the Autumn, after the young had
all attained the ability to fly, the entire flock of some 90 birds, was dabbling
about the river on a warm day in two groups. One of the groups was up
river and the other down river a few thousand feet from the other group. A fisherman approached from up river. I was
standing between the two groups, watching them. Fisherman, intent upon the
catching and killing of fish, often neglect to respect the rights of birds to
their places. This fisherman was approaching the group of Geese up river. The
gander, I believe the gander from the pair I called Hero's Geese, seeing the
fisherman coming, swam down river towards the second group, who was watched over
by the 'wife' of the gander. As he called out to her he
began herding the flock that was with him, who were composed of mostly young
birds and a some pairs of adults.
The female, his mate, in control of the
second group down river, heard her husband's honks, and began gathering her
own group into closer proximity to each other, just as her husband was doing. Both groups understood by the
vocalizations, honks and hinks, that it was time to not just line up to begin
flying, but to face up river to do so. Hero's female then
began calling out, telling the first flock it was time to fly. Half of the flock
flew into the air and over a nearby bridge at the same time. The male, who had
gathered the rest of the Geese in the same area, took off with his group in an
identical manner and direction. it was all done in a matter of a few minutes.
The Geese all flew over the head of the offending fisherman and landed up
steam in a place they thought safer.
What amazed me about this event was that the pair
of Hero's Geese organized this flight almost entirely by using a series of
calls, honks and hinks. The sounds used were very subtle and were composed of
directions not just to the two groups of Geese but also to each other. The two
Geese communicated not only the need to fly to escape the fisherman, but where
they were to begin their flight, when and in what direction. They organized the two
groups of an entire flock into a take off position and all the geese facing the
same direction, and then accomplished the take off in a period of probably less
than two minutes.
This is no small accomplishment, given that 90 birds, most of
them very young, had to be told where to go, what direction to face and when to fly. In order to
accomplish this the seemingly simple sounds of the geese had to express
intention and purpose and involved planning for an entire group, organizing where to move, what direction to face and when to fly. This is a very complex
set of directions and intentions, and certainly as complex as anything humans
do, in terms of requiring foresight, managing groups, as well as reasoning and
planning an event in the near future that will help the group as a whole.
Indeed, it is hard to imagine that two adult humans could organize 90 children
and young adults to move in a stated direction and do it in less than tow
minutes. Moreover, all this was done without what humans call language, or rather, it
was done with a kind of non-linguistic language that is different in kind from
anything humans call language, but in no way "lesser" than what humans call
language.
The mistake that humans typically make in
regard to non-human communication is that human language is always compared to
non human sounds. It is always humans, with their human centered concerns that
do the comparing. No surprise that the conclusion is always that human language
is superior to anything in nature. But this is a speciesist fallacy. One can
tell nothing about the sounds of birds or animals without first knowing the
context of their lives and actions. It is impossible to know or say anything
realistic and accurate about non-human sounds without first completely immersing
oneself in the lives of the animals or birds one would like to understand. This
is not easy to do, and above all requires huge amounts of time. If I had not
spent three years closely watching the flock at Hero's I would not have been
able to perceive the intelligence and insight of their behavior on the river
relative to the threat of the fisherman. This is not to say that I now
understand everything Geese are saying in their complex interactions. Hardly. I
understand only fragments of their speech and how they live in the world. But I
discovered that these are not only marvelous birds, but that their society is
rich and complex and as full of intrinsic value and worth as the lives of human
beings. But they are very different than human beings and this difference
demands our respect. The abuse that humans deal out towards Geese and most of
the other kinds of beings on earth is evidence, not just of the limited and self
centered nature of human language, but of the myopic lack of respect and
insensitive unwillingness to listen to the concerns and lives of other kinds of
beings. As the poet Pablo Neruda wisely asked, "how is the translation of their
languages arranged with the birds". Indeed, birds do not appear to need
translations of what they say. Birds of different kinds appear to understand
each other well enough. far better, in many ways, than human-animals who speak
the same language often understand each other. It makes one wonder.
Copyright © 2002 Mark Koslow.
All Rights Reserved.
|