All But One

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

My occupation involves discouraging migratory waterfowl from landing on toxic water. These migratory birds fly at twelve to fifteen thousand feet. They travel from as far as the North West Territories of Canada to Mexico where they spend the winter months. Then as the ice comes off the northern waters, they take flight and head back to those fresh, clear, fish filled lakes where they were born. As the birds grow weary from flight during the migration they begin to descend in altitude to look for a place to rest, drink and feed in order to restore their energy. Today I counted forty-seven Canada geese as they approached a pond that I was doing service work on. Or rather, the radar counted forty-seven targets. The radar picked them up long before I could see them. As the flock grew closer I went outside the radar trailer and watched as they circled into the wind to land.

The strobe lights flashed, the loud speakers squawked, and the manikin falcons flapped their wings just like the hazing system is designed to do. Although the geese had set their wings in preparation for landing, when the system activated, those energy-depleted birds aborted their landing and with much exertion changed their plans and flew on. Laboring to gain altitude, the geese gradually established formation and continued north-bound. They don’t fly in a “V” formation just because it looks good or the lead bird is the only one who knows the way home. The lead position is rotated and each member of the flock gets a chance or responsibility to fly at the point of the “V”. They rotate because the lead bird does a third more work than the others. Each bird trailing just behind and off to the side of the bird ahead receives what is called “free lift” from the downward thrust of the wings of the bird directly in front of it.

Watching the geese was like watching a graceful dance in the sky. If I believed in reincarnation, I would want one of my return trips to earth to be as a bird. The peaceful witnessing their flight was shattered by one lone goose that was struggling to form up with the rest of the flock. One bird was too exhausted to continue on. It aborted its initial landing and labored to join the others but it never gained more than a few feet of altitude off the water. As the goose approached the far end of the pond it gave up and landed in the toxic water. If it was too weak to continue on with the flock, it would never leave that poison water without help.

I abandoned my work, slipped on my life jacket and took Uncle Buck down to the water’s edge. Uncle Buck is the name I call my work boat. For the next two hours I chased that goose around the pond. I didn’t have a net with me to scoop it up so I had to get close enough to grab it with my hands. I knew that chasing the bird would only add to its exhaustion and lessen its chance of survival. I also knew that without help it had no chance of staying alive.

Eventually I was successful in getting the goose into the boat. It didn’t want to be there so I had to hold it down on the floor with one hand while I tried to steer the boat with the other. Once I got to shore I took the goose up to the maintenance shop and washed its feathers in warm soapy water. Soap strips the oil from the feathers and leaves a bird vulnerable but soap must be used to remove the harsh chemicals from the bird’s body.

The environmental officer at the coal fired electrical power plant where I was working said, “I hope you don’t plan to charge us for the half a day you wasted getting that bird out of the pond? We’re allowed a certain number of bird mortalities with your BirdAvert system in place you know.” “I’ve decided to charge the bird,” I said. Ignoring my response, he said, “The system saved all but one and that’s good enough for us,” I suppose you are right unless you are the one left behind,” I said. “It’s just a duck,” he snapped.

There has been someone there to help me when I was tired and hungry and couldn’t seem to find the energy to go on. I’m glad that that someone didn’t shrug their shoulders and say, “He’s just a duck,” or say, “I would stop and help but there is no way he could ever repay me.” The goose didn’t leave a forwarding address so it will be difficult to find where to send the bill for getting him out of the pond. It doesn’t matter. I was paid in full when, after a couple of hours of drying, I took the goose out of the makeshift cage and watched it fly up, circle to obtain its bearings and head north, hopefully to catch up with the other forty-six birds.

Catching up will be difficult because this straggler goose will have no bird ahead of it providing additional lift like we talked about. It will be as though it is flying lead position in the “V” for the entire journey until it catches up with the flock. Catching up isn’t likely. It has a better chance of forming up with another flock. Before you get too teary eyed thinking about the fact that geese mate for life, remember two things: first, if that goose had a mate in the flock it would have circled back, landed and remained with it’s partner until it was ready to move on or died, and second, the key word is mate “for life,” or “until death do you part.” Sound familiar?