Apples For Monica

Thaddeus, Clarence, Iris and Monica are the names we’ve given to four geese that spend their days navigating the woods that surround our home. It’s not a natural environment for geese. One would assume they would prefer a more open space with thick, delicious green grass to eat and perhaps a pond to play and bathe in. But no. We once tried to re-home them in such a place and they would have none of it. They are content with the Wal-Mart kiddie pool made from blue plastic and the small over grazed areas of lawn around our house. They patrol the grounds like small dinosaurs, completely confident in their authority and look with disdain upon all others who must share their space.

Nothing escapes their notice. Even at night. We are often awakened very late, when a raccoon, opossum or some other nocturnal neighbor has the audacity to wander too close. The alarm is sounded and no one within a half mile of our residence is unaware that something has disturbed them.

Each one has a distinct personality. Whenever you see them, they are together and always at least one of them is on guard and watching for danger. Except Monica. She lives in her own world. Usually lagging behind seemingly lost in thought. She has a quiet and gentle demeanor.

There is a softness in her eyes and unlike the others ear-splitting screams, honking and incessant chatter, she has a voice like cascading laughter.

Often Monica gets left behind. While the others are methodically grazing and moving on to the side or back of the house, Monica seems to be daydreaming. Suddenly waking to find she’s been deserted by the others who were so involved with eating they hadn’t noticed she was gone.

Sometimes if they’re in the mood they’ll follow the dogs and I up the driveway rocking side by side on stubby little legs and chatting continuously. We stop at the “Peace garden” where a couple of chairs have been reserved for my wife and I to sit and take in the beauty surrounding us. If my wife is with me, they have to stay behind as they share a mutual disdain for each other.

Too be fair, the geese a have a disdain for everyone but me. However, given the right circumstances, they have been known to take the odd swipe when my back is turned. This is a recent development and I’ve yet to understand what prompts this behavior other than a goose’s surly and “dickish” attitude towards all non-goose life forms.

Once I’m seated and comfortable, they all gather around conversing in light chatter about god knows what. They get as close as they can and untie my shoe laces or pull on my pant legs.

Except Monica. Since she was very small, she has had a fascination with my wedding band.

Very quietly, she pushes past the others and gently at first, nibbles on the gold metal. Her bill sounds like chattering teeth as she tastes the edges of the band. Unfortunately, the gentle nibbles quickly escalate into a wrenching tug of war as she tries to pull the band from my finger.

If her bill slips off the ring my finger gets pinched with such gusto it feels like it’s caught in a steel trap. When I pull my hand away and shout at her to stop, she genuinely looks surprised and maybe even a little sad that she hurt me. However, she just can’t resist that ring and within seconds is back softly nibbling, looking up at me as if to ask” is this ok, I’m not hurting you now, am I?”

Their little “gaggle” is fun to watch. They are very loyal to one another and show genuine concern if they notice Monica is not among them. When migrating wild geese have a member of the flock that has been injured, some may stay behind until it dies or can rejoin the flock. Geese can live a long time, up to thirty years in captivity. Wild geese don’t live as long, most are killed in their first year by a predator.

Geese love to eat grass, but also partake in nuts and berries as well as insects. Ours prefer whatever we’re growing in our gardens. Except Monica. More than anything else, more than grass, more than garden greens, more even than my wedding band, Monica loves apples! The only time you’ll ever see Monica in a hurry is when she knows you have an apple.

She is somewhat of a connoisseur as well. She knows the difference between a Gala and Red Delicious. Granny apples and Golden delicious are “Ho hum” and Macintosh are a bit tart for her taste. Fuji apples are her favorite. (I had to pause for a moment after I wrote that to consider what kind of person takes the time to learn the kinds of apples a goose likes, but then decided it would be best not to dwell too long on my occasional nerd like behavior and attention to details pertaining to animal behavior.) I even save my apple cores and give them to Monica.

She appreciates my thoughtfulness.

I was concerned for their lives the first winter we had them, it became so cold and the thermometer on the front porch dropped down into the single digits. I built them a little house and filled it with soft comfy straw. But they would never go inside. There could be a blizzard with thirty mile an hour winds and bitter cold, but they would just sit there, slowly disappearing under a blanket of snow.

Last winter when we had two weeks of unusual cold, I physically picked them up and put them in the house, then nailed a piece of wood to the doorway so they couldn’t leave. As it turns out, it wasn’t necessary. The large flat feet of waterfowl are natural radiators, the arteries and veins in a goose’s legs work in tandem to retain heat. They are also covered in dense layers of feather down that is most efficient holding in body heat. This winter they are on their own . . . maybe.

A friend of mine visited the other day. When he got out of his car, he was immediately surrounded and accosted by this local band of thugs. He had to walk backwards bent down with his hands in front of him vigorously defending his lower extremities. When I came out the door to help in his defense, he let down his guard for an instant. That was all Clarence needed to get in a nip and a slap. We don’t get as many visitors as we used to before we had the geese. My wife thinks they should leave. Actually, everyone thinks they should leave. If I could find another home for them . . . a really, really good home, I would be ok with that. Except Monica, she needs to stay. I’ve planted apple trees