Thousands of Canada geese fly over our house these days. We are on the flight path from the harvested fields which they frequent this time of year and the harbour where they lounge for part of the day. Monday was a warm sunny day and our windows and patio door were open, so we heard the huge flock of geese long before we saw them. They flew in an undulating line across the sky, what looked like hundreds of them, honking as they flew, though not in unison. Their collective sound has an urgency, like a siren, heralding the autumn activity, the cooler air, the last of the harvest. The beat of the wings as they fly directly overhead is a unique unforgetable sound, a barely audible swish of muscle contraction and feather against air.
On Tuesday, another beautiful day, we walked along the boardwalk by the harbour at low tide and the geese were there.
Again we heard them before we saw them. At a distance you might think it is a group of people talking.
As you listen and watch, you can imagine they are chatting about the day, their neighbours, or the people watching them. Small groups take off, moving to deeper water while others move back.
They glide in on the breeze flapping just before they touch down. Occasionally an errant duck makes its quacking presence known, not to be outdone by the larger birds.
Meanwhile hunters are in their blinds again waiting for their goose dinner to appear in the field; Thanksgiving is on the horizon. Photographers try to capture perfect shots of an individual bird or the flock. Some residents want them off their property where they create a mess.
We want to watch and listen.
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