Hop-along's Web Page
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Hop-along's Web Page |
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Spring, 2006 - One morning I was feeding the flock of geese as usual. Suddenly, I noticed a strange motion out of the corner of my eye, like a giant duck waddling amongst the flock. I turned to look closer and the motion stopped. Which goose moved that oddly? Then the goose moved again, and I finally saw the cause: To my shock and horror, a large goose was missing its entire left foot and lower leg, which ended in a perfectly smooth stub. So, it wasn't a recent injury, but where did this goose come from? How did the injury occur? I only knew that I had to learn more. So, I raced back to my kitchen to get more corn and bread. As I tossed a virtual bounty of food to this disabled goose, he hobbled about dutifully to get his share. I named him Hop-along for his conspicuous trait (it sounds better than Hobble-along). When he hobbled across the sidewalk, the good foot made a smacking sound on the concrete. Indeed, so large a goose cannot actually hop on one leg; his body weight had to be at least 20 pounds. Other unusual traits include large eyes with thin rings around them. And, his honk is low-pitched, sounding like a cow mooing nearby. I can tell when Hop-along is outside just by hearing his honk. |
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Hop-along flew back to the lake the next day, so I made sure that he got some corn and bread. After the flock flew away to roost (all except Sidekick), about 15 minutes passed and then it was dusk. I turned to leave when suddenly I heard some distant honking that was getting closer. A goose appeared over the trees on the other side of the lake. I expected it to land on the water as geese usually do. Instead, it circled and glided across the lake, landing in the grass right at my feet. It was Hop-along; he had flown back by himself. I knew right then and there that he had become a special friend. He has since flown to our lake almost every day for four months until molting season began. At each feeding, Hop-along would fly to me for a front-row seat. He always got first dibs on the food, at least for the first few seconds. Although few geese would challenge Hop-along from the front, he was chased too easily from his food from behind. I knew I had to find a way to move his food around so he could complete his meal. That is when I started using the feed tub. At first, Hop-along wanted nothing to do with the tub, but I knew he loved wheat bread. To train Hop-along to eat from the tub, I fed him small pieces of bread near the tub. He was lying on the ground at the time. Then, I tossed one piece into the tub. Without thinking, he grabbed the bread to eat it but got a bit choked up on the unexpectedly wet bread. Gasping, he jumped to his feet, or foot, I should say. Soon, he was used to the feed tub and even preferred eating food in water, as 'most any goose would. For a treat, sometimes I poured a layer of Toasty-O's (similar to Cheerios but not as sweet) in the tub to float above the corn. This became Hop-along's favorite food—a two-layer casserole, if you will. |
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The True Pirate Goose... Hop-along has some interesting eating disorders and other quirks. While eating from his tub, he is easily distracted by other geese who are also feeding nearby. He will suddenly fly to commandeer their corn, leaving his own behind and tripping over his tub on the way. When he comes to a stop, the other goose's corn will often be situated under his belly. So, he looks around and wonders where their food has gone. In this case, I move Hop-along's feed tub under his beak, and we start the process again. Part of the reward in knowing Hop-along comes from seeing how people respond to him and his quirks. One lady had to cover her eyes upon first seeing Hop-along. Gradually she improved to just biting her fingernails—quite understandable, though. Probably most humorous time occurred when Hop-along had indigestion. Some small children were close by, watching him eat. Suddenly he began working his neck around like a corkscrew. The children supplied the commentary on what happened next: "Cool! Look, he's throwing up," said one boy. Another prescribed, "Let's go get him some soda and chips." Priceless. But after a few sips of water from his feed tub, Hop-along was just fine. Regarding any food, Hop-along tries to "kill" it first, as if he were a carnivore spearing the prey with his beak. When eating from my hand, he "spears" my hand first before eating. Or, he spears the tub in that case, as well, hard enough to bounce half his meal onto the ground (if I'm not prepared for it). This told me that he was a true pirate goose: a one-legged, flying, killing machine. While being hand fed, Hop-along likes to bite my fingers as eagerly as the corn just to let me know who's boss. However, he improved in that now he only gives me an introductory bite before eating from my hand. Nevertheless, his bite is just short of what would leave a mark or make a child cry. Thus, he has the distinction of being the only goose I warn others about if they intend to feed the geese by hand. Hop-along develops a powerful itch at the most inopportune times. The itching place is around his facial patch on the same side as his missing foot. He tries to scratch it with his short leg but has great difficulty in reaching it. Often he has to stop eating to try to scratch his neck. After a couple of minutes of trying, his neck will finally become disjointed enough to make up the difference and reach his short leg. It is painful to watch, and I have offered many times to reach over and scratch his neck. Any dog would have accepted the offer, but the pirate goose would have no part of it. The instinct to protect his neck is just too strong. |
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...with a Big Heart Sometimes Hop-along and another gander have a chest-butting turf battle. But Hop-along has a clever approach that makes up for his deficiency. He grabs his opponent by their chest feathers and summarily hauls (flies) them downhill and into the water. Then he sits on the other goose, who eventually pops to the surface some dozen feet away, having learned their lesson: Do not challenge the pirate goose. And woe be to any goose who dares to eat from Hop-along's feed tub. Despite Hop-along's pirate nature, he has a very big heart. He gives the biggest goose hugs, ever. One day when I came over to feed him, his beak and neck started quivering. Suddenly, he slid his beak and head on my arm up to my shoulder and neck. Although it was a bit scary and unexpected, that was the first of several times Hop-along has hugged my neck. How can one not love such a pirate goose as this? People often ask about Hop-along's missing foot, "how did it happen?" "Well, Hop-along's not saying," I tell them. Seriously, though, I asked the same question at first. But one day acceptance arrived and it just didn't matter. I mean, Hop-along has accepted it—true? Somewhere along the way, he just got unlucky... none of that Darwinian nonsense about survival of the fittest, here. Hop-along does more than hold his own among his peers, a true inspiration that would do any species proud. |
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Hop-along Returns! Around the end of May the daily flights of geese visiting the lake had stopped. Molting season had begun, a time when geese shed their old flight feathers and grow new ones. For a few weeks the geese could not fly. Hop-along was not here, and there was no way to know if or when he would return. His absence was a little surprising, since 21 other geese had settled in at the lake. Hop-along had apparently chosen to stay at his roosting lake for molting season. Summer, 2006 - By the end of July, a few geese began visiting the lake again during the day and leaving at dusk. They obviously had new feathers and could fly as before. One morning as I fed corn to the flock, I noticed the familiar, unique motion that Hop-along makes as he walks among the flock. There he was, and his new flight feathers looked great. I went over and he reached out with his beak to eat corn from my hand as always. However, he seemed uncharacteristically shy about getting his share of the corn on the ground near other geese. Then I realized that he had lost his spot in the pecking order during his two months away. But two or three days later, he was right back in the middle of the action at feeding time. Having to compete with up to 65 geese for food, Hop-along flies to my feet now for a front row seat, as it were. I often have to (carefully) step back just to give him a place to land. As the geese eat the corn on the ground all around me, it's easy to lose Hop-along among the closely-packed mass of goose bodies—their legs are hidden from above and their heads are down, too. But he will often tap my legs with his beak to let me know that he needs more corn, so he doesn't remain "lost" from me for long!
I could not recall any goose fight that looked so serious... but it reminded me of how a cheetah will take down a baby gazelle, clamping onto the neck until—well, you know the rest. This had gone on for nearly a minute, and I thought about jumping into the lake to intervene. But the presence of brown water snakes made that a bad idea. So, I tossed a couple of large rocks in, hoping the splash would detract the geese. That didn't work, but in a few seconds the goose broke free of the neck clamp. The goose then made the "swim of shame" over to the bank, and surprisingly seemed to be somewhat okay, after all. The aggressive goose with the death-gripping beak swam over the bank, next. I was astounded to see that it was Hop-along! The pirate goose takes his food seriously indeed; we all got a big reminder of that. It's interesting how quickly any feeling of pity will melt away when Hop-along goes into his pirate mode. |
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Copyright 2006-2007 Bruce Beverly. All Rights Reserved. May be used elsewhere only with written permission from author. |
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Fall, 2006 - As I began to toss some corn to the geese one afternoon, two geese began a confrontation that included chest-butting and flogging with their wings. The fight moved quickly to the water, and with all the splashing, I couldn't identify which particular geese these were. One goose clamped its beak onto the base of the other's neck, holding on tightly. Even though the chest-butting and wing flapping continued, the grip on the gooses neck was intact.
