I’ve been here for a few weeks, tucked on the edge of a quiet wooded path. Sitting, patiently, shifting to improve my comfort or when I must eat. Lots of humans walk past, I’m mostly un-noticed, I stay quiet – better not to be seen or heard. There’s sound enough, the energetic woodpecker hammers, the squirrel screeches a warning, the heron’s wings flap when spooked. Quietly the flowers and ferns reach from the darkness to embrace the dappled sun and bluebells replace the primroses, the snowdrops before them. As they do each year.
She’s here again, the lone human, she’s been each day since I started sitting. She squats before and her soft noises ripple across the water’s surface to me. I’m here for just a few weeks, I’ll soon be able to leave my patch, with my young ones. I’ll stay around here and keep a watchful eye on the threats, I’ll protect my young in the folds of my wings. As I do each year.
I am Canada Goose. I am here each year.