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Big Bird comes over to say hello while the flock feeds on rain-freshened grass. Click here for larger image.

Struttin' My Stuff

Summer, 2006 - If you happen to see a goose with an extra-fluffy neck, it just might be Big bird. When I first saw this goose, its neck appeared to be blow-dry styled, giving him a sock puppet-like appearance. So that's why I named him Big Bird. He's friendly to me, and will eat from my hand.

Big Bird is a dominant male that often gets in confrontations with other geese. About half the time when I feed the geese, he's either chasing or being chased. Usually a goose will hold its head down when chasing other geese— but not Big Bird. Usually the neck is held perfectly upright so that he looks like a miniature llama romping about a pasture somewhere... quite humorous to see. All that chasing does get in the way of feeding, as Big Bird rarely is at the front lines to get first dibs on the corn.

The Strong, Sensitive Type

Winter, 2006/07 - A particularly remarkable episode occurred with the geese on a mild afternoon in early Winter. During the feeding time, two geese began a prolonged fight; each had the other's chest clamped in its beak. Their wings beat fiercely together with a loud flapping sound as they faced each other, chest to chest. The fight went into the water about 5 feet from the shore; the beating wings splashed water on my arms and face. I tried to distract the geese from fighting but they were too focused. After what must have been more than a minute, they released the grip and separated. The fight lasted that long because the two geese were pretty evenly matched. About 30 tufts of white downy feathers were left floating on the water, indicating the severity of the fight.

The first goose walked up to me on the bank. I fed it a little cracked corn as it walked by, although I did not recognize that particular goose. It seemed fine, and joined the flock. Then the second goose walked up the bank, and I could see that it was Big Bird. He seemed to be a bit stunned—even docile. He did not want to eat at first. I interpreted this as a sort of depression. For he first time ever, he allowed me to stroke and smooth his feathers a lot, which had become quite ruffled. The usual result of fighting/chasing usually meant little food for Big Bird, but I decided... not this time. As he walked slowly about the flock, I followed him and he let me feed him several pieces of bread. After the bread ran out, I stooped down in front of Big Bird and talked to him in a soothing tone of voice. I could see that one wing was slightly injured... the first joint on the right wing's leading edge had a pinkish spot caused by the wing-to-wing beating. While he was facing me about 2 feet away, something happened that was simply amazing. All at once, tear drops swelled in both of Big Bird's eyes—about 6 to 10 separate, large drops ran down on each side and dripped off his beak, onto the ground. Then he began to slowly preen his feathers. At first I was in disbelief. "Could those be drops of oil used in preening," I thought? No, the oil gland is near the base of the tail. Those were real, emotional tears.

As humans we tend to think that most fights have a bully—somebody who "started it." Or, maybe we should blame both participants for just not getting along. But that moral standard does not apply to wild animals. It is the nature of geese to be territorial and "selfish" over food; it's a matter of survival for them. I believe Big Bird responded to compassion when he needed it. I will never forget that moment.

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