The Year of the Geese

 It is the year of the goose at Guppy Lake.  Well, geese, really -- the most ever on our little pond.  

We've often had nesting geese here, but never more than one pair at a time.  This year we have three pairs.  It's been pretty noisy, but gradually the three allegedly-monogamous couples are settling down to being simply picturesque -- though that changes, of course, if there's the slightest hint of new arrivals, as in this video I managed to capture:

In my mind, however, I also hear the ominous soundtrack of a Hitchcock movie.

Every year or so, in the spring, a pair decides to try to raise a family here.   It's a big mistake; tragedy inevitably ensues.

The problem is that the body of water we call Guppy Lake is actually quite small and shallow, and not really much of a barrier to predators.    But even in high water years, there are several islands in Guppy Lake that apparently look safe to geese, so they lay their eggs on them.  

There are few predators around here that would tangle with an adult goose, so they're mainly looking for turf on which they can defend their eggs against a direct assault.  They guard the eggs well, and soon we're treated to a line of adorable little goslings, following their parents around the lake like soldiers.

Alas, it is the goslings, not the eggs, that are vulnerable.  The lake's size permits weasels/stoats/ermines/fishers to attack from below, snagging a gosling before the parents have a moment's warning.   A great honking lament ensues from the parents, which can last for days, reinforced as the remaining goslings are picked off, one by one.  I don't think I've ever seen one survive.  And the geese really do mourn.

So this year three pairs of geese are visiting the Guppy Lake Gosling Abattoir.  Usually, peace and quiet are among the first words you'd use to describe Guppy Lake, but we can safely expect a record cacophony of mournful honking in the weeks to come.   But timing is everything.  Trina and I are about to spend a month in New York, for the birth of our newest granddaughter.  If we're lucky, the folks watching our house will bear the brunt of it, while we're enjoying Manhattan's relative quiet and serenity.