Farm Rreporter

Gus and Hilary have to be about eleven years old at least. I am not sure how that equates in goose life for longevity, but it has been a grand and extremely interesting few years.

Gus was given to me by a friend that was afraid the coyotes would get him as they had gotten other farm animals they had kept. It seems the other geese on their place had wound up as foul luncheon for the four legged country hobos. Gus needed protection and a good home. We had both.

Gus has always been very affectionate, needing attention and liking to be picked up and fussed over. His shrill honking close to the ear could be hard on delicate hearing receptor's and his enthusiasm and excitement over seeing me or any other people-person, is expressed with the same, almost insane, high pitched honking. He is easily excited.

Recently, one foggy day, Gus didn't truly recognize me. His strident voice made it quite evident that I was a foreigner in his territory. His tone was shrill, piercing and quite demanding. Coming together a little more, he recognized who I was. His tone changed immediately. His chortling and croons were evidence that he saw someone special to him. His love and devotion is quite touching and very evident. If allowed, he will pull at my shoes and pant legs, trying to get truly close. If allowed, he will walk over your shoes, between your legs and pull at your shoe tops or shoe string, if you have any. At times the extra attention can be a bit intimidating. He is a big bird with a six foot wing span. Those wings are powerful and can at times be used in his defense if need be.

When others are about he is not as relaxed, but on guard, cautious, anxious and inquisitive. He has an instant like or dislike for people also. My number one son happens to be one of his dislikes. The feeling appears to be mutual and though the years there have been many "disagreements" between the two of them. They have finally come to an agreement to disagree, but to leave each other alone.

Within the last year we have new neighbors to the West of us. The three acres they have are ideal for having some horses and other stock if wanted. The new neighbors take pride in having special horses, which they baby by keeping them on a rigid schedule of feeding and seemingly constant grooming. This is unlike our horses that have to eat pasture grass during the summer months and only get special attention during the winter when they have to be fed twice daily. The winter feeding schedule is good for the horses but murder on work schedules. The only grooming they get is a good roll in the dirt, mud or rubs on the trees, fence posts or occasionally by a visitor. I consider our horses more as "Pasture Art."

Gus lets us know when feeding time is in progress at the neighbors. Actually he let us know anytime anything moves about in his field of hearing or sight. He is quite a watch goose and is truly frustrated he cannot be nearer the house. He would come flying to the back door every time he saw us if he could. There have been times he has been left out of the pasture to wonder the full acrage. It is quite disconcerting to look up and see this goose head looking in the patio window pleading for someone to please come out and play. Better yet is the look of, "Can I come in" look. That look can tear at your heart strings if you let it. The mess on the sidewalk and lawns is reason enough to make sure the geese stay where they belong, behind the pasture fence with the horses. Both the geese keep a sharp eye for anyone that comes near the house and truly notify everyone that will listen; someone is out and about the place. They used to even let us know when the mail man drove up with the mail.

Both Beverly, my wife, and I listen for the geese throughout the night, knowing we will keep in touch with what is going on by the sounds of the geese. Mostly it is the constant talking or communicating in goose language to each other that we hear. Often Beverly will say. "The geese were making an awful lot of noise while you were gone. Maybe you should check and see what is going on out there in the barn yard." Often I only need to listen to see what is going on. If I can hear them gabbling I know things are going OK. There are other times I do investigate. Once in a while they will sleep. When they are quiet there is cause for concern. Usually I find them by the horse trailer with their heads tucked under their wings sound asleep. They can wake instantly and greet me wildly with honking, taking flight to hurry to where I am. What a fan club!

Hilary isn't as congenial as Gus. No, they are totally opposite in disposition.

We play a little goose game along the fence. She will attack me if there is a fence between us. What pleases her most is to find the toe of my shoe close to the bottom of the fence. She delights in getting hold of that choice piece and twisting it with gusto, if she could. For this reason I always keep uncovered toes out of harms way. This of course gives me an excellent opportunity to reach over the fence and grab her by that long velvet neck and disable her. She is then ripe for picking up. Her weight sometimes taxes my muscle reserve. Actually I have to be quick because her wings become a formidable force with which to deal. Once I have her in my arms she becomes quite docile and somewhat compliant. She has never once offered any type of resistance or attempt to bite or harm me in any way. I would never be able to do that if anyone else was about. She will whip out a nasty bite at any one that would chance to come close but not me. Both of the geese become edgy when strangers are about and will shy away from coming close.

there have been times when I have picked her up when someone has come up to me. She will immediately snake out her head and try to connect with that individual. It could be horses too that occasionally get the vengeance of Hilary when I am holding her. The horses seem to be quite inquisitive, but recently have learned to stay clear of the geese especially when I am holding one of them. I have never quite figured out what their thinking is other than protection of the one that is holding them.

It wasn't long ago Hilary and I had quite a go around. Her bill got quite bloody from her biting into the wire cross piece of the fence. She just kept on attacking the shoe/fence and I kept letting her. I did feel quite badly to see her somewhat injured but she did recover quite nicely. The last time I picked her up I noticed she had healed quite nicely.

It is amazing to me she has kept up the ritual for so many years. Gus, on the other hand, tries to discourage her by reaching over and take out a hunk of neck feathers. This doesn't seem to faze her because she keeps doing it again and again. Perhaps she is a slow learner. The place gets to looking like some kind of feathered war has gone on. The occasional breeze will carry away any dropped feathers and we are again back to just green pasture grass.

Gus' favorite ploy to keep Hilary in line, is to place himself between Hilary and myself. He will walk back and forth trying to keep Hilary from the fence and eventually at me or the offered shoe. It is interesting also to note she will never try to attack me when I am out in the pasture with her. She will snake her head and hiss vehemently, but never try to attack me. She usually remains quite aloof and somewhat disinterested in me.

We were playing our little game the other day. I had been out in the pasture/orchard checking the trees and seeing to the general welfare of the barnyard. As I came back through the long pasture gate, I was standing just behind the fence with my hand still on the gate not yet closed. Hilary came with a vengeance at me knowing I was behind the fence. She could see the fence between us. I was curious to see what would happen so I stepped through the slightly open gate, exposing myself to the full force of Hilary's attack. She was only ten feet ways, coming fast, wings spread. I was to witness first hand the great intelligence those birds have and be able to assess her reaction time.

The game suddenly changed in that split second of time. She valiantly tried to change her course. Her great orange webbed feet spread out in front of her, heels digging into the soft barnyard dirt, sending debris flying. In her haste to try to check her full fledged charge, she toppled forward. Saving face is also in her game. With all the dignity she could muster she gave me one more meaningful hiss and folding her wings she waddled off to join Gus at the watering hole.

Her constant efforts to appear mean and haughty have always been lost on me. I found a convenient tree to lean on and held my sides, laughing until I cried. Of course this all was played out around the sixteen legs that are always close by for any handout available.

How interesting it is to realize what entertainment the Lord has given to us if only we would take the time to notice. The birds, chickens, cats, horses and of course the geese give me no end of pleasure. Of course this observation comes from a farmer boy named "Little Leon", yours truly.