Tag Archives: Canada Geese

When Summer Changes To Fall

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With every major change of the seasons, Winter to Spring, Summer to Fall, the Canada geese would make their pilgrimages either North or South. To get there on time they would normally head in the intended direction when the weather was also starting to change. In the Spring the snow would still be lingering on the north slopes, and the back roads, unpaved as always, would be muddy tracks through the fields or trees. In the Fall the leaves would be well along, having changed color, drying out and wavering in the chilly wind, some having fallen already and crunching beneath my heavy boots.

My mind, sodden from the memory of the winter and the constancy of the cold, never quite believing that it would ever end, was hungry for the next signs promising the change and deliverance of the next season. When I thought I was at the end of my patience that’s when the Canada geese would appear. I would begin listening for them, impatient for their arrival, scanning the horizon for those first waves of V shaped formations, their strong wings powering their way towards me. I would listen harder and eventually I would be rewarded with the staccato cries of the geese calling from high up in the clouds. My ears catching every note as it sifted down through the grey misty haze and broke like sharp, crystal-edged flakes of sound around my soul. Each call a request, an invitation to join them, if only I weren’t locked tightly to the earth.

Take me with you, I would say to them quietly, take me with you. Often I would call it loudly up into the sky in a vain attempt to reach them, to make them see that I was trapped here and could not leave. I wanted desperately to join them, to go with them to those far off places, but they never paused in the steady rhythmic beating of their wings. If they saw or heard me they showed no sign of it, for I was not of them.

Year after year, season after season, it never failed to happen. When the first wings appeared out of the distance, impossibly high, looking like dotted lines drawn against the expanse of sky, their bodies just a dark silhouette, always, always when the first faint call reached out of the mist, the thought would jump unbidden into my mind. Look, I am here, take me along.

Heading north in the Spring and south in the Fall, stark against a deep blue sky, every feather outlined in perfect detail, or passing through clouds, their shapes becoming faint and opaque like shadows barely seen in the darkness. Their calls muffled, the size of their bodies getting ever smaller as I watched them recede into the distance, their calls fainter and fainter until they were gone and only an echo of them remained in my mind. Take me with you, I would say, and though I was forever rooted to the ground, I never ceased to ask.

Now years later I still find that catch in my throat as I stand here leaning against the door frame, my nose pressed tightly against the metal mesh inhaling the sharp metallic tang of cool fall air through the screen door. I’m waiting once again for the sound and sight of the high-flying geese heading South. I am here and the season is changing yet again.

Thoughts Of Spring

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With every major change of the seasons, Winter to Spring, Summer to Fall, the Canada geese would make their pilgrimages either North or South. To get there on time they would normally head in the intended direction when the weather was also starting to change. In the Spring the snow would still be lingering on the north slopes and the back roads, unpaved, were still muddy tracks through the fields and trees. In the Fall the leaves would be well along, having changed color, drying out and wavering in the chilly wind, some having fallen already and crunching beneath your heavy boots.

My mind, sodden from the memory of the winter and the constancy of the cold, never quite believing that it would ever end, was hungry for the next signs promising the change of the weather and the deliverance of the next season. When I thought I was at the end of my patience that’s when the Canada geese would appear. Black dots above the horizon, they would turn into vague shapes of forward movement, wings held at just the right attitude to glide forward.

I would begin listening for them, impatient for their arrival, scanning the horizon for those first waves of V-shaped wings powering their way towards me. I would listen harder and eventually I would be rewarded with the staccato cries of the geese calling from high up in the clouds. My ears catching every note as it sifted down through the gray haze and broke like sharp, crystal-edged flakes of sound around my soul. Each call a request, an invitation to join them, if only I weren’t locked tightly to the earth.

Take me with you, I would say quietly, take me with you. Often I would call it loudly up into the sky in a vain attempt to reach them, to make them see I was trapped here and could not leave and I wanted desperately to join them, but they never paused in the steady rhythmic beating of their wings. It never failed to happen, when the first wings appeared out of the distance, impossibly high, looking like dotted lines drawn against the sky their bodies just a dark silhouette, always, always when the first call reached out of the mist, the thought would jump unbidden into my mind. Look, I’m here, take me with you.

Heading North in the Spring and South in the Fall, stark shapes against a deep blue sky, every feather outlined in perfect detail, or passing through clouds, their shapes becoming faint and opaque like shadows barely seen in the darkness. Their calls muffled, the size of their bodies getting ever smaller as I watched them recede into the distance, their calls fainter and fainter until they were gone and only an echo of them remained in my mind. Take me with you, I would say, and though I was forever rooted to the ground, I never ceased to ask.

Shuffles Lipinski

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A conversation with Shuffles. Last weekend while on an ill-fated whirlwind trip to Yellowstone National Park to photograph some Peregrine Falcon chicks that were due to hatch and be photogenic, the visit sadly ended in frustration due to an unknown event that resulted in the parents abandoning the nest and the eggs within. We haven’t discovered what the event was yet but it resulted in one lone egg being left exposed in the nest. Since this changed our plans we decided to look up an old friend. We had a few moments to talk with Shuffles Lipinski a local resident of Grand Teton National Park.

If you enter Yellowstone from the south you have  to go through Grand Teton National Park to get there. Sometimes the Grand Tetons seems like the cross-eyed step child of Yellowstone, as it feels kind of like a door mat as tourists rush through to get to its older sister up north. It’s not though. They have plenty to offer in the way of scenery, such as big mountains that resemble a woman’s bosoms, and wildlife galore. There are Moose and Mulies, Elk and Canada Geese, Pelicans and bears. Plenty of bears. Like our friend pictured above. This is Shuffles Lipinski, a cinnamon colored black bear that can be seen on any given day hanging around where tourists can see him. Even though we were in a terrible hurry at the time to get up into Yellowstone to check the Peregrine nest we took a few moments to have a conversation with Shuffles. Here is an excerpt from that interview.

So Shuffles, Whatcha doing?

Just a runnin’ and a grinnin’.

What for?

I need to get up there where that tour bus is unloading them tourists.

We didn’t think you liked tourists.

I don’t. Hate ’em actually. But if I get up there and run around some and grin at them I’ll get points.

What do you mean you’ll get points?

Points. You get enough points and you get transferred up North. Get to play in the big show. Make a name for yourself. Get chicks. Free drinks at the club. Maybe a piece of the T-shirt business.

Really. Do all the bears want to do this ? Maybe that’s why we never see as many bears down here as we do up in Yellowstone.

Yup. You also get a number up there. Down here they still call you by your name. Up there if you’re cool you get a number. I want a number.

Note to readers: Yellowstone National Park is very proud, perhaps overly so, that they depersonalize their animals by giving them a number instead of a name, like Peaches, or “Kor, god of the fang”. That way they think people will get less attached to them, and not care when they get killed or worse, have to wear those tracking collars all the time. For instance if you ask a ranger or one of the bear guards they assign to each bear something like “Hey where’s Rosie? I haven’t seen her and the cubs lately.” they will give you a disgusted look and sternly but condescendingly, tell you “We don’t name our animals here in Yellowstone National Park, bear # 509 will be out shortly. You can wait over there behind that white line.” (‘you dumbass visitor’, being understood. We’re watching you now. Don’t make me talk to you again.) Returning to the interview.

So what’s wrong with your name? We like Shuffles, makes you more human and lovable, approachable even.

Yeah right. You approach me, I bite you. I get sent to the big house and get a tag stuck in my ear and then one in my other ear when I bite you again, and then its lights out bwana on the third time. You get the big sleep. No, I want the number. You get a number like 812 or something and people don’t know what to expect. You could be dangerous, you could be a stone cold killer just waiting for some bus rider to get close enough to take a selfie, people don’t know. You have a name like Horace or Shuffles, you don’t get the respect. Gotta have the respect, that ‘s what brings in the big bucks from people wanting to see the ‘bad’ bear. That’s what ups the T-shirt revenue, know what I mean?

Ok, got it. Listen we got to run. Got Peregrines and their chicks to shoot. Been a slice. Catch you later Shuffles.

Cool dude, listen, do me one, when you get up North tell the bear guys I growled at you and looked threatening. I gotta get out of here. I’m dying down here. Don’t tell ’em I bit anybody or anything just that I looked bad. Ok? Later brother. I owe you one.

Feather Count

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This is, as many of you know who watch the Nature channel, a Golden Eagle. They are nature’s answer to the stealth bomber, or Italy’s Ferrari, or TV’s Christina Hendricks. I mention her only because of the similarity of her hair color to the color of the eagle’s feathers while soaring against the bluest of blue skies in the late afternoon sun. This must be how Christina’s hair would look as it caught the sun if she were flying around the cliff face here at the eagle nesting site in one of her tightest-fitting dresses…… but wait, did I just say that out loud, never mind, let’s just acknowledge that this is a Golden eagle and move on.

What many of you don’t know is that feather loss is a common but little known problem for birds of prey, particularly for the larger birds like the Golden eagle. The Eagle Observation Department (EOD) here at The Institute has a serious, but totally unnecessary, project in place where we have taken it upon ourselves to perform a periodic inventory of the overall health of this pair of Golden eagles, which includes a full exact feather count of each bird, if you will. We do this simply as a public service at absolutely no cost to you the taxpayer. Since the Federal government has repeatedly refused to fund our efforts in this endeavor we have had no other choice but to take this on ourselves and self-fund this project. Which is why you occasionally see members of The Institute approaching perfect strangers downtown and asking them for money, or canned goods, or checking the coin slots in public phones for quarters, or even, sadly, standing at corners with our cardboard sign saying “Give me money! I’m counting feathers for the community! Thank you, The Institute.” So far we’re barely making it but as this is a necessary project, we persevere.

Yesterday was one of our inventory days, so we sent a three-man team of scientists, photographers and security to our top-secret Golden eagle nesting site at Watson lake, outside of Bellvue, Colorado, 80512. The eagles were there and seemed eager to get this over with as they had mating to do so they could get the nest up and running for this years hatchlings.

Using our secret collection of eagle controlling hand signs, developed and patented here at The Institute, we were able to get the eagles to fly slowly back and forth as we counted feathers as quickly as we could. This is a much more difficult process than at first appears. As the feathers must be counted manually and in order, such as 8001, 8002, 8004 and so on, for accuracy. It is easy to lose count due to people walking up and asking you what are you doing or shaking your tripod leg. After answering you have to quickly reacquire the bird in your viewfinder and start over before it flies out of range. Add to that having to ask the eagle to fly upside-down so you can count the feathers on its back and you begin to get the picture of how difficult this process is.

This is why we have security on site as we inventory. Our crack security officer can keep the most persistent of onlookers at bay by slapping at their knees repeatedly with his attack dog’s leash. They howl and complain that they don’t have full access to events happening on public land but sacrifices often have to be made in the advance of science.  Besides they always want to look through your viewfinder and talk to you about how they once saw a bird that looked a lot like an eagle, and sometimes about their Aunt who suddenly and for no reason took off all her clothes and jumped laughing into the lake, scaring the Canada geese all to hell. We’re busy here people, we don’t have time for idle chit-chat.

It was a long, long day but we finally finished and everyone was relieved including the eagles that we had gotten through another one of these trying but totally unnecessary procedures. We made plans to meet back here again in a month to repeat our efforts and everyone was good with that, except the female eagle who had taken to pulling some of her tertiary feathers out and was threatening to start on her primaries when we made a joint decision to reschedule in six weeks instead. This seemed to placate her somewhat. Some of us remembered that expecting females were often difficult to manage during this time, so allowances were made.

Our tallies were much closer this time than during previous attempts. Our scientist came in with a count of 114,651 feathers for the male eagle, the photographer counted close to 3000, and our security person had a count of 9, but as he was quite busy with crowd control we understood the discrepancy. So added together and averaged that gave us a count of 39,200 feathers for the male. The females’ numbers were tossed after she started pulling out her primaries during the fourth or fifth hour of counting. We are deciding if we are going to keep her involved as one the test subjects or not, we may not, at least until after the chicks are born. She should be in a much more manageable state by then. And besides due to weight gain before she lays those eggs she’ll probably pop a few feathers anyway, but that’s a subject for another study.

In the meantime we’ll continue monitoring the site and observe whatever behavioral changes we see. If this is a study you can support we encourage you to send donations of many dollars, especially large denominations, if you can, to The Institute so we can continue our valuable work. We’re particularly looking for those supporters that don’t pay much attention to details and results but like to be known for supporting wildlife causes no matter what the reason. Remember, the more you give, the better you look. And looking good is great!

Deep Thoughts

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DeepThoughts6867Canada Goose and goslings Yellowstone                       click to enlarge

Here it is, the day I’ve been dreading. Mom says today we go into the river. Boy it looks cold. Dad says if we don’t go in a coyote will eat us, but he’s always saying stuff like that. I haven’t even seen a coyote. We saw a small foot once just laying in the grass and Mom and Dad got all weird and sent us into the high grass while they ran around flapping their wings and making lots of noise but I didn’t think it was a coyote.

I told them I didn’t think I was going in. I thought I would just wait awhile until I was a little bigger. Dad says I’m going in come hell or high water whatever that means. How you gonna be a goose if you don’t go in the water, he asked, but I’m rethinking this whole goose thing if that what is it takes to be one. Mom says there’s nothing to it you just fall in bob around a little, make your feet go back and forth like you’re walking and that’s it. You’re a goose. I’m not so sure, I’ve seen them swimming and they can swim really fast. How am I gonna keep up. Did you see the size of their feet. They’re like humongous. I’ve only got little feet, no way I can stay with them. What if I get swept down the river, how’re they gonna find me. I’ll get eaten by a coyote for sure then. This is turning out to be a really stupid idea. I’m not going.

Whoa…Dad just picked up sis with his beak and totally flung her in the river. Holy man, she’s bobbing though and there she goes swimming right behind Mom. Ok, OK dad I’m going, really, I just want to ease in sorta, don’t push. Alright then, this isn’t so bad. I don’t know what sis was so scared about, this is a piece of cake. Ha! I got goose written all over me.

Goose Herding A problem That Shouldn’t Exist

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There is a daring new program being tested out in Yellowstone that was developed right here at the Institute. We often hire our top guns out as problem solvers when the folks in charge find themselves stumped. And this problem had the park management in a tizzy, I can tell you.

If you have been to Yellowstone lately you will have noticed that there is an abundance of Canada Geese in the park, more than an abundance, they are up to their eyelids in Canada Geese. They are everywhere, if you tip over a rock you will find Canada Geese. They are in the rivers, in the woods, up on the mountains, behind the dumpsters at the Yellowstone Lodge, under people’s feet, in people’s hair, there are just a whole lot of Canada Geese. They need to be regulated.

On the other hand you have a fair number of buffalo bulls that are transitioning from being full-time in your face herd breeders and dominant knock your widget in the dirt leaders, to go sit out on the hillside, can’t cut it any more, retirees. They’re still viable useful individuals but they have been marginalized, either by the downturn, or reaching the mandatory buffalo retirement age of 31, or they just got their ass handed to them in the last rut by some young Turk who is now the bull duck in the pond and now they’re out of a job. But none the less, they still have value, not to mention experience, knowledge, and a great work ethic.

The absolute brilliance of this plan still boggles our mind. What you do see, is you get the buffalo to herd the geese. Yeah I know, simple right? It just makes sense. The buffalo are used to making other animals do what they want them to, so they don’t take no for an answer. What better choice is there to work security. The buffalo herd the geese who go willingly because who wants to argue with a bull buffalo, back to a waterway like a river, or a pond, where the geese should be anyway. Thus they become much more manageable because they’re too busy trying to stay afloat and keep other geese from getting in their stuff, than to go somewhere else and cause trouble. Problem solved. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, this is why we get the big bucks. This proves the need for an Institute that has your best interests at heart. We come at these problems from a different direction, outside the herd if you will, than other folks because they’re too restricted and hampered by worrying about what might actually work than to try the improbable if not ridiculous solutions we come up with.

And what we came up with here, this really smart but brilliant plan came out of our think-tank, ours, the one where we go to think. No one helped us in any way in the development or implementation of this program, no input from the dunderheads that couldn’t solve the problem in the first place, nothing, we did it all, so we are taking full credit for its success. We feel that this is a genuine Solution to a Non-problem and that’s the perfect place to be to make money if you’re a government sponsored entity. So Yes, if you look at it closely, it’s money for nothing and the chicks are free. If other National parks have this problem, or any other animal management problem that requires herding by buffalo, they’re going to have to contract with us and cough up the big shmeckolinos for its use. Chalk up another success for the Institute, you just can’t hold us down. Remember we’re making your tax dollars work for us.

Heading Sideways

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If you’re a migratory bird and you’re in-between migrations what do you do. If you just sit around on the lake and eat goose bon-bons all day you’re just going to get so fat you won’t be able to haul your big butt out of the water. If you don’t flap your wings about a thousand times a day how are you going to be in shape to make it to Argentina or L.A. or where ever you’re supposed to go. These are some serious questions you need to be asking yourself before everybody else is leaving and you’re left behind honking in the bullrushes all by yourself.

These Canada geese are pretty fortunate to be summering in one of the most healthy, disgustingly fit places in the Nation. We got joggers, cyclists, runners, high-speed goofy looking walkers, canoeists, rafters, pool players, orthodontists, horseback riders, marathon doers, people who cheer other people doing stuff, and speed-readers. You can’t swing a Do-Do bird around here with out smacking somebody doing something healthy and fit making. With all that do goodyness happening it’s bound to rub off on everything and everybody and these geese are no exception.

Everyday about the crack of ten they’re up and flying laps around the lake. They put on about 60 miles then nip down to one of our healthy but expensive restaurants and have a nice big plate of eggs. Wait, not eggs, I wrote that before I thought about it, A nice big plate of greens, that’s what I meant. Healthy greens, fresh from Whole Greens, our local high-end greens provider. It’s where all the trendy geese shop and freshness is guaranteed. Then its back to the lake and another 60 miles.

Today there was only this pair making the circuit. Its unknown where the others were. Normally this place looks like an airborne roller derby so something must be happening. Maybe there’s a sale someplace. I saw one of the big boxes had a sale on GPS stuff which could come in handy for the fall trip. Little chic looking unit you can wear around your neck, numbers light up so you can see them in the dark. The rest better get back to it here pretty quick, it’s already August and fall is just around the corner. They don’t want to miss the ‘Day of The Goose’ festival down there in South America.