Mother Goose is on the nest and Father stays close by in the water. Now we wait. We already have five other couples paddling around the lake showing off their broods and our gal is just getting started. Maybe as she sits there day after day for the next four weeks, watching all those youngsters growing bigger and stronger, she’ll wish she hadn’t put this off for so long. Some geese just cannot make up their minds.
You’d think that Father Goose himself laid those eggs and was sitting on that thin nest with nothing but a few twigs and his wife’s breast feathers between him and that rocky ledge. His nerves are already on edge. While I was watching yesterday from a few feet away a couple and their four goslings were out for a swim at the far end of the lake. The gander raised his head, shook it in the air, and released a loud series of gobbles aimed in our general direction. Whereupon Father Goose yelled back with agitated gusto, looking for all the world as if he were sick and tired of that braggart carrying on about his brilliant little fuzz-ball children.
He then extended his neck an inch above the water, opened his beak, and rushed muttering to his mate as though he had just taken care of that bore once and for all and she could rest easy with him on the job. Something tells me that we’ll have to send Father to anger management or slip him some Xanax before he gets these four eggs hatched.