At the cove, the female of a pair of Canada geese without offspring swims among the pilings feeding on the algae, while her mate stands above the beach on a small concrete platform just inside the fence separating the walkway from the river environs. Suddenly, the cry of a gosling in distress sounds across the water, as a small yellowish ball of fluff proceeds rapidly over the surface in the direction of the exposed beach. The male honks once, then once again more loudly, and flies off toward the call. He lands at the water’s edge as the gosling, one of the youngest brood, struggles ashore, collapsing just out of reach of the incoming tide. With the gosling falling silent, having attained a perceived safety, the male, standing near, starts in on a thorough preening.
The exhausted gosling sprawls on the beach, its neck drooping and its head falling first left, then right, on to the wet sand. After some minutes, the gosling totters away from the approaching tide to an algae-covered rock, where it begins nibbling. Succumbing to fatigue, the gosling lets its head fall until its bill rests on the rock. Waking, the gosling feeds once more, more energetically. Soon the female goose, still feeding, swims to the pilings closer to the gosling, which springs up, races across the sand, and speedily paddles toward her, only to be attacked by her as it approaches. Swimming away, the gosling takes up nibbling algae on one piling after another.
Meanwhile, among the pilings on the farther side of the pier marking the northern margin of the cove, the gosling’s parents and four siblings are scattered about feeding. At one point, the male begins honking, and first one gosling appears, then his mate, and finally the three remaining goslings. The family moves to the pier itself, foraging among the supports, proceeding along the length of the pier, not swimming under it and traversing its width.
Back on the near side of the pier, even though they both ignore the gosling, it stops feeding to follow the pair of geese toward the riprap of the southern pier, in the direction away from its family. Fortunately, the adult geese turn around and head straight for the northern pier, the gosling trailing behind. The pair enter the area under the pier, followed by the gosling, which almost immediately loses track of them. As the gosling utters his distress call, it is amplified in the low-ceiling space beneath the pier, and is carried to his family on the other side. Hearing the cry, both parents become agitated, pulling back their necks, than thrusting them forward. The male honks loudly, then even louder. The gosling’s call increases in volume, as it frantically swims toward the male’s honking. Suddenly, amid the two adult geese and four goslings a fifth gosling appears and life returns to normal.
Speeding across the water of the cove a line of Canada geese, one adult ahead, five goslings in the middle, one adult behind, swims directly to the beach. Reaching shore they all hustle out of the water up on to the sand, where they begin drying and smoothing their feathers. After a time, the female lowers herself to the ground, whereupon the five youngsters press themselves up against her. She envelops them with her left wing, pulls them close to her body, tucks her bill under her scapulars (shoulder feathers), and they all nap, with three small heads peeking out from between the mother’s wing and body. While resting the female exhibits a behavior known as sleep vigilance, in which, while half her brain sleeps, she briefly, but repeatedly, opens the eye controlled by the waking part of her brain, takes note of her surroundings, and closes the eye again.
Several minutes later, the most exposed gosling attempts to preen in the confined space between wing and body, thereby disturbing its neighbor, whose squirming movements annoy its neighbor. Before long, the female, becoming bothered by the fidgeting, stands up abruptly. First one gosling drops to the ground, followed by a second, then a third falls. When the female takes a step toward the water, the fourth gosling hits the sand, and the fifth finally shakes loose as she takes a second step. The five goslings each pick themselves up, shake themselves off, and run after the female.
While scanning the pilings north of the pier that serves as the northern boundary of the cove, I become aware of movement on the water below me. One small gosling rapidly swims out from beneath the pier. I await the appearance of its siblings and parents, but not a single other goose or gosling emerges. As I wonder about the meaning of a lone gosling, it first swims westward paralleling the pier, then returns swimming toward the pilings by the seawall. It turns again to float slowly into open water away from pier and pilings. By this time, I conclude that the gosling has lost its family and is attempting to locate them. With my binoculars, I search for any signs of Canada geese, for all the good that might do the little gosling. I can’t catch it; I can’t herd its family to it, even if I found them.
The gosling paddles back toward the seawall pilings, fortunately discovering a floating plank, upon which it drags itself, gaining some refuge from the wetness and weariness of constant swimming and floating. At first, its stands on the plank seemingly abandoned, in abject misery. Eventually, fatigue causes the gosling to collapse onto the plank, where it drifts into and out of sleep.
About this time, I catch sight of two adult Canada geese. Continuing to watch them, I make out one, two, three goslings accompanying them. The parents and siblings, most assuredly. But what now? Seeing no possible way of uniting the family, I reluctantly turn away from the unfinished drama to carry on with my own life, hoping to see four goslings when I revisit, but truly expecting to find only three.
(On the following morning, there were indeed four goslings with the parents. A happy ending, for now.)
High tide at the cove covers most of the usual goose and duck feeding spots. The beach is totally submerged and most of the pilings are under water, as well. The two Canada geese families, with five goslings each, one set about three weeks old, and one set a couple of days old, cruise around the vertical and horizontal supports of the well-worn pier that constitutes the north side of the cove searching for their dietary staple, luscious green algae growing on the many surfaces washed by the river between the times of the medium out-going and the medium in-coming tides.
I first notice the family with the older goslings feeding around the pier supports nearest the walkway. Then, at about two sets of pier support columns farther into the river, I discover the younger set of goslings along with their parents nibbling algae. As the families feed, that group barely stays beyond the other group. Then, slowly the older, larger, faster goslings begin to overtake the younger, smaller, slower ones. The parents of the smaller goslings attempt to hustle them along, whiling performing head-bobbing displays directed at the other parents. Most of the little goslings scoot toward the adults, but one tarries, floating in place, as some of the older goslings catch up to it. The larger goslings surround the small one, picking at it, and are joined by the parents. The little gosling is buffeted by the larger geese, but the blows are not severe and in the resulting rumpus caused by the five geese jostling each other for shots, the assailed gosling breaks through the circle, fleeing to the protection of its parents. Rapidly the parents gather their brood and quickly shepherd them across the water to the other side of the cove. Perhaps a lesson learned the hard way.
Following a seemingly interminable spell of dismal weather, featuring gloomy fog under gray clouds, ever-enlarging patches of blue sky appear, allowing the long hidden sun to make its presence known. By the time I arrive at the cove (see Guarding Gosling Gaggle) the river is bathed in brilliant light and pleasing warmth. Below me on the beach, luxuriating in the pleasant sensations, the Canada goose parents and five goslings, last seen about a week before, drowse on the sand.
After watching for several minutes, I look up and scan the cove for other feathered creatures. Seeing nothing other than the usual brant geese, I shift my focus back to the goose family at my feet. As I do, I spot among the pilings small yellowish blobs on the river surface floating between a pair of Canada geese. More goslings? Younger goslings?
Moving along the fence to a better viewing point, I do indeed see a second set of five goslings, smaller, younger, and hatched only a day or so ago. They cluster behind mama, forming a fluffy raft that trails her fixedly as if by magnetic attraction, breaking apart only for a brief moment before recoalescing.
Suddenly, the male issues several honks indicative of a challenge being offered. A third pair of Canada geese, without offspring, has appeared in the cove disturbing the tranquill setting. Without hesitation the male thrusts hinself into the air and propels himself at the perceived male intruder, who takes flight and lands some distance away, where he rises up out of the water flapping his wings.
Just after the male returns to his family, the goose pair with the older goslings enters the water and swims toward the pilings. As the two families converge the males begin head bobbing displays that show their discomfort with other geese at such close quarters and are mild warnings. When the two families are quite near, the females join in the head bobbing, until the families pass, moving on to separate areas among the pilings to feed. This first observed encounter ends peacefully enough.
