Suffering, Sacrifice, and Geese: Rest in peace, brave Boaz
[Hover over images for captions]"Sacrifice is usually difficult and irksome. Only love can make it easy; and perfect love can make it a joy. We are willing to give in proportion as we love. And where love is perfect, the sacrifice is complete." (Instruction Before Marriage)
I've
mentioned before how Husband Mike and I love Canada Geese, and so naturally, we get extra-excited 'round this time of year, what with all the nesting and goslings going on.
We keep an eye on the nesting pairs, paying attention to who's who and where they're hanging out, as well as listening to their calls and honks through our open windows. Because one couple, Boaz and Ruth (don't know why exactly we named 'em that; Husband Mike just started calling the female Ruth, from the Old Testament's Book of Ruth, so of course the male then had to be Boaz), built their nest within sight of our building, we wound up watching them even more than the others.
So, when we heard an enormously loud and sustained racket coming from their area late last Thursday night, we were initially puzzled. What on earth could they possibly be complaining about at 12 a.m.? After 20 minutes went by and the honking showed no signs of stopping, Husband Mike decided to investigate.
It seemed like forever before he returned, and it was with distressing news: a coyote had killed and run off with either Boaz or Ruth; he couldn't tell who due to the darkness. As he approached the area, a bunch of geese were paddling in the middle of the pond and honking; the source of the commotion. When he continued towards Boaz and Ruth's nest, he saw a large, dark shape move -- the coyote, who then ran away, dragging the body.
While Husband Mike described the scene around their nest -- feathers and down scattered in a large area just a foot or two from it -- we heard a repeated, plaintive "honk" drift through the open window.
The next morning, we were able to confirm that it was Boaz who died, and from the look of things, he did so while protecting Ruth and the nest. Three eggs were destroyed in the attack (two were cracked and one wound up in the water), but thanks to Boaz's sacrifice, three eggs remained and Ruth survived.
With such a dramatic example practically dropped on our doorstep, I found myself pondering the nature of sacrifice. If a mere goose could lay down his life for his mate, what about me? Would I be able to lay down my life for my husband if the situation demanded it? Would I have the strength to suffer so that others could live? I was reminded yet again of how astonishing it is that Christ did just that for us, His Church, His Bride.
Not knowing when the remaining eggs would hatch, or if the coyote would return, we anxiously watched and waited over this weekend, hoping Boaz's sacrifice wouldn't be in vain. Fittingly, they hatched today, on Mother's Day.
Labels: geese, reflections, wildlife
More adventures in goose-wrangling (Part II)
Continued from Part I last month ...We had to rescue 10 baby geese the next day, but how exactly were we gonna do that? After much pondering, Husband Mike came up with The Plan:
- Even though we were working with the wildlife rehab center on this, we didn't wanna draw any undue attention to ourselves. ("Oh, hello, Officer. Why are we chasing after these goslings? Um ...") Therefore, we'd get up the next day at 3:30 a.m. in order to be at the %&$)#! retention pond before 4 a.m.
- Lure the babies to one of the retention pond's rounded corner-ish areas with some cracked corn. (Note: Never feed waterfowl bread! For them, it's worse than junk food, and may even cause deformities in youngsters. Cracked corn is way better.)
- Catch the geese, then drive 'em all over to my folks-in-law's home -- it's much closer to the wildlife center than our place. From there, call the center and bring in the babies whenever we're told to. (You can't just waltz up to these places and dump off animals -- you've gotta get them properly admitted.)
As for the catching and transporting ...
That night, we dug out two ginormous plastic blue storage tubs and lined 'em with soft, fluffy towels. We figured each tub would comfortably hold 5 goslings, and the tubs were tall enough so that we didn't have to worry about anyone jumping out. Plus, once the 'lings were inside, we could
loosely place the lids on top to minimize sound/stress.
We went over our plan a few more times while piling the tubs, tin of cracked corn, wader boots (for Husband Mike, just in case), and flashlights by the front door, then turned in for a fitfully short night of sleep.
I was ready to smash the alarm clock when it screeched at 3:30 a.m. While I bumbled around still half-asleep, Husband Mike quickly got dressed. Kinda' hazy on details, but I think it took me two tries to pull on my sweatpants, and I seem to recall some flailing 'round.
Of course, the cats all thought that since Mom and Dad were up, it was Breakfast Time! Everyone hurried excitedly -- with much meowing -- into the kitchen, only to look confusedly around when no kibble was forthcoming. Poor guys. But, we had Geese To Rescue, and darnit, the furkids could wait a few hours until Proper Breakfast Time.
After we parked near the pond and started pulling out the tubs, I suddenly wished I hadn't put on a grey T-shirt. Why didn't I pick a darker color? Husband Mike dressed sensibly in black, but I might as well've put on a flashing, neon Goose Catcher sign. Nice going, idiot.
I was still attempting to maneuver my tub out of the car when Husband Mike informed me that he saw the 'lings stirring ... somewhere, I was too bleary-eyed to see exactly where ... so hurry up and get that tub next to the one I've already got out there. (He's really efficient.) I swung the tub around and attempted to stride forward and ... immediately twisted my ankle on the curb. My
good ankle.
I collapsed (I'm a wimp), but the relief of loud swearing was denied me as we were Trying To Be Stealthy. So, all I could do was curl over my stupid, stupid ankle -- great,
both ankles are crappy now! -- and whimper. After checking to make sure I was OK (well, I wasn't really, but whatever) and maybe saying something along the stiff-upper-lip lines, Husband Mike grabbed my tub and hurried off.
After the shooting pain subsided, I foggily limped over to the tubs, which Husband Mike had arranged in a sort of barrier near the roundish-corner, and picked up both lids to use in a goalie-blocking manner for when the 'lings tried to dash away. They were eagerly eating the cracked corn and didn't notice my approach, which was a good start. However, they
did notice when Husband Mike then lunged down, grabbed one, and plopped him -- peeping loudly -- into a tub.
The group tried to scatter in my direction, but I blocked 'em with the lids, so they clustered back into the roundish corner with much peeping. Husband Mike grabbed another one and dropped him in a tub, and soon we had a pattern going:
Lunge, grab, peep!, plop, block. Lunge, grab, peep!, plop, block.It took less than 15 minutes for Husband Mike to nab all 10 'lings, and then we were gently carrying our goose-laden tubs back to the car. (No ankle-twisting incidents on the way back, thank you very much.)
Thus we found ourselves half-awake at 4:15 a.m. in a car with two ginormous plastic tubs filled with 10 peeping baby Canada Geese. With the fragrance of goose poop starting to permeate the car, Husband Mike dropped me off at our place (I immediately crashed for a few more hours until work) and drove to my folks-in-law's.
I called him around 9 a.m. for an update. How were the 'lings? Fine, though they're none too happy about the accommodations. And there's a
lot of poop. When can you drop 'em off at the center? Left two messages and am waiting for them to call back. OK, well, call me back when you hear from them.
When I finally called Husband Mike again around noon (?), the center
still hadn't called back. (Remember, they knew in advance that we were coming and to expect our call.) He'd left
another message, this one angrier than the last, especially since while he was waiting, one of the baby geese died. (We think he was the smallest and weakest of the group -- Husband Mike had previously noted him being picked on by the others.)
What the hell?! Change in plan: Call a different shelter (one we'd also dealt with, but much farther away), explain the situation, and see if they'll take the remaining 9.
Much time passed.
Husband Mike called: Other Shelter immediately answered the phone and said to bring in the goslings -- including the body of Little #10, they'd handle it -- right away, no problem. He did. They quickly got 'em all admitted and said we'd get an update in a few months. And that was it.
We can't help but wonder if Little #10 would've lived had we been able to get 'em in sooner.
Oh, we finally got a reply from First Shelter, who called back after Husband Mike had left for Other Shelter. My mom-in-law said they apologized for not calling earlier, but they were all offsite dealing with the aftermath of a bad thunderstorm, yadda, yadda, yadda.
What, they couldn't have someone at least checking their damn messages? All we needed was for someone to call us back and let us know what was going on. Instead, Husband Mike sat around for
8 freakin' hours.
We were only slightly mollified by knowing my mom-in-law lit into them.
Anyway, a few weeks ago we got a postcard from Other Shelter. The remaining 9 geese survived and were successfully released back into the wild. Because Other Shelter is so far away, we'll prolly never see that group again. Even so, whenever we pass a flock of Canada Geese now, we can't help but wonder ...
Labels: geese, wildlife
More adventures in goose-wrangling (Part I)
Have you ever found yourself half-awake 4:15 a.m. in a car with two ginormous plastic tubs filled with 10 peeping baby Canada Geese and wondered, "Boy, how did this happen?"
Really? You, too? Well, here's our story:
It all started with Dax, a Canada Goose on our property. We noticed that he had a severe limp and completely avoided putting any weight on one leg, frequently plopping down when his good leg was too tired. As he was in obvious pain, we decided that some help was called for.
We do have a mite o' experience in aiding needy waterfowl, as evidenced by last year's
goose-wrangling adventure with Geordi, so we called the same wildlife rehab that helped us before. They said to watch Dax for a few days, and if the limping persisted, they'd treat him if we caught and brought him in.
After a few days of careful scrutiny, it was clear that Dax's limp was still mighty bad, so we attempted to do the old Blanket-And-Box-Routine. However, it didn't go as well this time. Last year, when we tried to catch Geordi, he was far enough away from the water that we were able to eventually wear him out and grab him. But Dax was mere steps away from the water and simply jumped in and swam away from us when we tried to nab him.
So, we went back to more watching and plotting. Happily, though, his bum leg
finally began showing signs of improvement, and one day, Husband Mike completely lost track of him. Thinking that perhaps Dax went across the street to another popular Goose Hangout, Husband Mike went over there to see if Dax was around.
No Dax there, but Husband Mike
did find the aforementioned 10 baby geese, who were all stuck in a pathetically-conceived drainage pond. It was constructed in such a way that while adult waterfowl could easily fly/jump in and out, their flightless offspring -- once in the area -- were stuck. Two goose families had led their kids down into the pond, but then couldn't lead 'em back out again.
And as this was a newly-dug drainage pond, there wasn't much in the way of edible vegetation available. The four parents could fly up and out to munch on grass, but their kiddos were stuck behind.
Now what?
Back on the phone to the wildlife place, who said (duh) the youngsters were pretty much stuck in the pond until their flight feathers grew in ... about 3 months later. In the meantime, they were stuck in a shadeless, foodless prison. And their parents kept leaving them for longer and longer stretches of time so they could eat, making them highly vulnerable to predators.
Then the worst happened -- both sets of parents completely abandoned the kids (who by now were looking raggedy and who weren't growing like they should). And that meant the situation had just turned deadly -- baby geese don't produce the necessary water-proofing oils needed to stay afloat, but rely on having that rubbed on via close contact with Mom- and Dadgoose. No Mom or Dad = No Waterproofing Oils = Eventual Death by Drowning.
Another call to the wildlife place. If we could catch and bring in the babies, would they take 'em? Yep! You catch 'em, we'll care for 'em.
Thus, the plan to rescue 10 baby geese was kicked into gear.
Update:
Part II is here.Labels: geese, wildlife
Inspiring: Goose rescue
Speaking of geese (
see my previous post) ... While sad, this is quite an inspiring story:
Leader Times: Compassion spurs rescue attempt
by Tom Mitchell, 09 February 2007
"... [P]erhaps this lowly and helpless goose was an opportunity to bring out the spark of compassion and concern for all creation that lies with in all. That spark was fanned into a glowing flame in the hearts of the three men who took a great risk and braved sub-zero temperatures and dangerous river ice in an attempt to save one goose." Read the full article.
Labels: animals, geese, inspiring, wildlife
GooseWatch 2007
I've
mentioned before how waterfowl hang out on our property, something that greatly delights Husband Mike and me. We especially love to watch the continual antics of the Canada Geese, and it's a real treat to see
nesting couples.
So, when we recently noticed a new nest, we were thrilled and promptly incorporated regular "checkups" to see how things were going. Of course, I had to name them (hey, easier to keep track that way), so they were christened
Miles and Keiko.
Each day we'd call each other with Goose Reports: "Saw Keiko this morning; all seems to be well", "Keiko was gathering grass around herself", and "Keiko looked good, didn't see Miles". Actually, we really only reported on Keiko, since Miles did a good job of keeping himself hidden.
Because nesting Canada GooseMoms rarely leave their nests -- doing so only to quickly eat and drink -- when I didn't see Keiko on or anywhere near her nest a few days ago, alarm bells rang. I meant to call Husband Mike about it as soon as I got to work, but was sucked into Neverending Meeting Heck and forgot. But, Husband Mike also noticed the situation and called me that afternoon. What happened?
First, we checked to ensure the folks who manage our property didn't destroy the nest (it's illegal), which they thankfully didn't -- they were aware of the
Migratory Bird Treaty Act. Then Husband Mike investigated the nest up close for clues ... we're not absolutely sure, but our best guess is a visit from a hungry coyote. Definitely wasn't a case of
licensed egg-addling or an attack from another goose couple.
Because the destruction happened so soon after the clutch was laid, neither of us had enough time to memorize Keiko and Miles' features to identify 'em from the other geese (
yes, it can be done), so we're not sure if they're the ones who just started up another nest a few yards away from the old site.
So, to be safe, we're calling this (perhaps) new pair "Miles-and-Keiko.2". And our daily update calls have resumed. :-P
Labels: animals, geese, wildlife
Adventures in goose-wrangling
"All creatures are created from the same paternal heartbeat of God. Not to hurt our humble brethren [animals] is our first duty to them, but to stop there is not enough. We have a higher mission -- to be of service to them whenever they require it."
~ St. Francis of Assisi
This past Sunday, Husband Mike and I added "Wild Goose-Wrangling" to our List Of Life Experiences and played host to an injured
Canada goose in our bathroom. The story:
Returning home from Sunday morning Mass, we turned onto the road surrounding our apartment complex and saw a Canada goose walking with head bent low and both wings drooping at his side. This instantly triggered a strong "something's-not-right" suspicion. So, after briefly stopping inside to change, we headed back out to see if we'd simply imagined things, or if the fellow was truly ailing.
It took awhile to find him again, but when we did, a close-up look confirmed that Something Was Indeed Wrong, and he needed help. Back inside we went to call a nearby wildlife rehabilitation center. Could they do anything? Their reply: If we could 1) catch the goose and, 2) bring him to the center, they'd examine him and provide medical treatment if it was needed.
Uh-huh.
Catch a Canada goose. Any suggestions how we're supposed to do that?
Try to sneak up on him from behind, and throw a blanket over his head and wings. Then, place him in a Large Box, and put the box in cool, dark, quiet place until you bring him here. And even though it's noon right now, you'll have to wait until 3:00 p.m. because that's when our vet will be here.
Ah.
So, Husband Mike and I dug out an old computer box we'd fortunately not pitched (hoarding boxes does come in handy, I suppose), lined it with towels, grabbed an old blanket, and trudged back outside for some goose-wranglin'.
Picture this: Two grown adults chasing a large Canada goose between them (sneaking proved unsuccessful), flappin' their arms at said goose and each other, with one holding a blanket and the other lugging a Very Large And Cumbersome Computer Box. Did I mention this was along a busy street? And in full view of the neighbors?
After much back-and-forth running and yelling (at each other, not the goose), we finally had a stroke of luck when the goose tripped and Husband Mike threw the blanket over him. It was a little tricky getting Geordi (of course I had to name him) into the box, but we managed it.
With Geordi settled in the big box, we walked as nonchalantly as possible across the parking lot to our apartment. Thankfully, he didn't make any noise along the way, so we never had to explain what we were up to, and we even smuggled him past the cats and into the bathroom without incident.
While time flies when you're having fun, it positively shuffles when you've got a sick goose in your bathroom and you have to wait 3 hours to see a vet. But finally, we got Geordi to the center (again, he was quiet the entire time) and the vet examined him. The prognosis: Geordi's left wing was broken, and the exposed bone had begun to die. The surrounding wound was severely infected and was actually maggot-infested. On his right side was a deep puncture wound, also maggot-infested.
The vet said it takes 3 days for bone to die, and because of that puncture wound, she guessed he'd been attacked 3 days earlier by a predator, most likely a coyote. Unfortunately, she said they'd have to euthanize Geordi, because if they amputated his wing, he'd have to live in captivity and it's illegal to keep Canada geese in captivity. We weren't entirely convinced this was the only choice, since the vet wasn't totally clear in answering our questions about whether or not there were any facilities, anywhere, that could legally keep Canada geese.
Even though the outcome was less than satisfactory, at least we were able to ease Geordi's pain and suffering ("The maggots are eating him alive; he's in excruciating pain," said the vet), and he didn't die alone, in drawn-out agony.
Before we left, I quickly touched Geordi's feathery head in farewell. It was the softest, silkiest sensation I've ever known. I can feel it still.
Labels: geese, st. francis, wildlife
An early evening walk
In preparation for this month's
12 of 12 fun, I decided to give our new neato-keen digital camera (thanks again, Melissa!) a spin today while out for a walk. Now, Husband Mike and I have never owned a "real" camera before (having only ever used the point-and-shoot disposable kind), so we're both getting familiar with concepts like "zooming" and "exposure compensation".
Before I headed out, I took some test photos while reading through the owner's manual. The B was a most obliging model:
The B snoozing in his kitty window hammockOnce outside, I encountered the resident Goose Family. (MomGoose and DadGoose started out with six goslings, but sadly, they're down to three now.) Here's a shot of the clan walking towards me:
The Goose Family on the move
Goslings and Parent Goose
Gosling closeupAfter visiting with the geese (goslings make the coolest peeping, cheeping, something-eeping-ish sounds), I continued on and said hello to some of the ducks. These pictures didn't turn out too well -- kinda' grainy -- but hey, I got familiar with pushin' all the camera buttons.
Mallard floating in the water
Duck babies! Duck babies!
More duck babies!I would've taken more pictures, but unfortunately, the batteries ran out. Guess all that fussin' around wasted lotsa' juice, which was frustrating 'cause I really wanted to take some shots of three squirrels playing tag and tackle. Too funny!
Well, that concludes the tour for today. Tune in next time for squirrels and, if I'm lucky, robins!
Labels: fun, geese, the b, wildlife
