Monday, April 17, 2017

The Lone Goose

The cry of a lone goose pierced the sky, the haunting notes singing the tale of a bird separated from his family.  It was late April.  This Blue had somehow lagged behind, was left behind and now it is plaintively seeking its kind.  As the sun drops behind the horizon, the goose hears  the clucking and cackling of poultry far below as their keeper is spreading grain for the evening feed.  The goose circles, descends.  In a large open yard it espies two dozen or so common chickens.  Though the birds are not its kind, they are birds.  Blue lands on the periphery of the yard and the hens go ballistic.  The goose assumes submissive posture, offers no threat.  The chickens calm down and the goose cautiously walks toward them.  Finally it is close enough to peck at the grain on the ground.  Blue joins the chickens for dinner.

We have seen that Blue has assumed the role of guardian of the property and protector of the flock.  Even the rooster has accepted this interloper as a part of his family and all is well in Birdland.

September comes, as September will.  On a bright clear morning Blue hears a familiar sound approaching from the north.  A flock of its own people-- snow geese!  Nature stirs the whatever within the creature that impels it to rejoin its own kind.  Blue starts down the lane, runs down the lane, flaps its wings and leaps to launch itself into the air!

Blue gets about three goose-heights off the ground, sails a few yards and crashes headlong into the dirt.  The poor bird has been much too-well fed, its body now heavy with surfeit.  Its sole exercise for months has been waddling around the chicken lot; its pinions are atrophied and too weak to support flight.

The flock, hundreds strong, soars overhead while Blue honks a feeble "Good-bye, good-bye."*

 *There is a moral in here somewhere but I shall refrain from pointing it out.  If I could see it, and I did, I know that you can as well.

 Text  ©2017  David W. Lacy

Image By Adrian Pingstone - Self-photographed, Public Domain, Link


Secondary Roads said...

Poor Blue has not risen.

vanilla said...

Chuck, sadly grounded: abundant food, little exercise.

Secondary Roads said...

I'm sad to say, the same seems to be happening to me.

vanilla said...

Chuck, Blue may well be a metaphor for my life: overfed, under-exercised, wanting to manage everything in my little world, longing for my own people who keep on sailing by high overhead. Well, or maybe not; but i fear the worst.