There is a kids’ song titled the "Ants Are Marching, One By One,Hurrah! Hurrah!" that kindergarteners and first graders love to sing, probably because it is a counting song, as well as having kid-pleasing lyrics. However lately, I am thinking that it is the Goslings who are marching. Each spring, here at Buffalo River bottoms which my home overlooks, we see and hear the adult Canadian geese arrive in early spring, we hear them fighting (loudly) over nesting territory, we see the adults walk out into a grassy field below our house to feast on the new green grass, and finally we don’t see them at all for awhile. This means that the eggs are hatching and both parents are either sitting on or guarding the nest. Now it is the time of marching goslings, led by one parent at the front, and herded from behind by the other parent. It is total devotion (or maybe it is pure instinct) to the little ones they have hatched into this world of foxes, weasels, crows, and other nasty predators of baby geese. It is a great pleasure to see these baby geese, now gray and fuzzy, but soon to be looking more like the adults, only in miniature. How much they have to learn before they fly off in the Autumn to warmer climes. In the meantime their parents are watching over them every minute of their existence (they don’t hire any babysitters) and teaching them all the things that wild geese need to know and survive. It never ceases to fascinate me—this spring and early summer rite of geese and their goslings. How fortunate I am to live where I can see it happening day by day. I am grateful.
