Autumn, and a scourge of geese

 My mother and grandmother loved the change of seasons, especially the arrival of fall after a long, humid Delaware summer. The minute the mercury fell into the 50s at night, out would come the blankets and comforters. The furnace would purr into life in the early, cool mornings. 

 

Gran, who lived with us, would cut bouquets of pyracantha (which we called "firethorn") from the bush in the backyard and place them around the house. There was always one large bouquet on our hearth. It proclaimed the change of season in the heart of our home. 

My mom even had different curtains for the cold season -- I think this was a thing in the 1950s and early 60s. I'd come home from school one day and -- presto! -- the whole house would be changed into winter garb. I wish I could say this is a tradition I've maintained. I'm lucky if I remember to wash all the linens, much less change them for seasonal ones. 

And it wasn't autumn at our house until Mom called me into the yard, pointing up at the sky. There'd be a flock of Canada geese, all obediently lined up in a perfect "V" formation, heading south to warmer climes. Often they seemed to be following the Delaware river, about a mile from us. The sight was as predictable as pumpkins, every fall.

This is definitely a tradition I haven't maintained, since the Canada geese we have no longer seem to migrate. We are stuck with them all year long. If you see them in the air, they are simply flying from one public park to another. I call them a "scourge," because the word "flock" just sounds too benign. 

Anywhere in New Jersey you can see them, but I encounter them most often on my walks around a nearby lake.  There may be up to a hundred, basking in the sun and decorating the lakeshore with goose guano.  If I'm very lucky, one will fly over my car in the parking lot and baptize it for me. Isn't that just special?

If I walk very quietly, I may get past the geese without their noticing. On a really unlucky day, the Goose Feeding Lady will be at the lake at the same time I am. I know she means well, even though she's feeding them stale bread, which is not healthy for them (they enjoy cracked corn, which is healthier for them, and I know I can buy it  at Wild Birds Unlimited, but I refuse). 

Feeding the geese, I've read, is a Bad Thing. Not only does it increase their dependency on humans, but it encourages aggression. When they are done swarming around the legs of the Goose Feeding Lady, they usually turn their attention to me if I'm in the vicinity. Before I know it, I have a scourge of fifty hungry geese closing in on me. And no food for them. So far, I've been able to shoo them away from me while power-walking along the trail. They haven't caught me. Yet. 


Maybe a little bag of cracked corn in my pocket would not be a bad idea after all.




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