There is a church at the end of our street, and the field is always full of Canada geese. When we first moved it, I was startled to see a bright white goose among the crowd of Canada geese. After all, birds are not known to take well to other breeds of bird!
I did a bit of research, and found that this goose was most likely a runaway from a domestic establishment. How it ended up with the flock of wild geese is a mystery, but the goose migrated with them and came back for two years.
I began to look for the white goose as I left the neighborhood. It always gave me a boost when I would see him out there, pulling at the grass, completely unconscious of standing out.
Then one night I went out to put something in the mailbox, and there was the white goose, sitting at the foot of my stairs. He looked up at me, unafraid. I went and got him some bread crusts, which he ate gratefully, and then he settled down on the sidewalk. I went back inside, and when I looked out a half hour later he was gone. It was the last time I ever saw the white goose.
But one of his descendants is still with the flock. I see her in the field, pulling up the grass much as her father (or grandfather) did. She has the markings of the domestic goose, but in female form (not all white). I look for her much as I did for her ancestor, the lone speck of white in the field of black and gray.
Photo by zenera
