Attracting Wild Geese to the Garden

My previous experience with Canada geese was minimal, but negative.  I knew that they could be aggressive, and that after having spent all hours of the day eating grass, they would deposit green “butter” everywhere, so I was not terribly thrilled to see the first pairs of geese arrive that first spring.  In time, however, I came to terms with their presence.  They arrive surprisingly early.  With snow still lying in the shade and the pond only partially ice-free, each goose couple picks out a nesting site close to the water and defends it from all comers.  Every evening they fly away, and every morning they fly back again for nest-site defence duty.

After the pond ice melts, the couples stay overnight and disport on the water.  Males go into hyper-testosterone mode, attacking each other while the females passively ignore the ruckus.  Some couples seem totally devoted, while others break up before starting a family.  It’s a sad thing to see a dejected male goose, calling forlornly for a female who has taken off and isn’t coming back.  And he’d better not cast an eye on any of the ladies who are spoken for, or there will be trouble.

Then the pond suddenly empties of females as they all start sitting on eggs.  The males lurk, watching for predators, but trying not to give away the location of the nest.  The weeks pass.  Some nests are predated by raccoons and coyotes.  Nests too close to the waterline are inundated by flood-water.  The atmosphere is strained.  At last, one morning a pair of geese appears on the pond bracketing a line of tiny yellow balls of fluff between them.  Another day passes, and there’s another pair of proud parents.  Hubby and I start counting the offspring.  Not all of them will make it.

It’s hard not to love the eager and inquisitive goslings.  They are fluff on legs, rushing around full of energy one minute, snuggling under mother’s wing for a snooze the next.  When they get too big to fit next to mother, a thyme carpet makes a lovely soft day-bed for them.  I hear them wittering to each other quietly, in voices totally unlike an adult’s strident cries.  They develop a fascination for my basement window screens and stand there pecking at the wire.

In a normal year, after the goslings pass the age at which they can mistake another goose for Mom, the adults join forces and share guard duty.  This year, though, a strongly territorial male goose has dominated the pond, driving off other pairs by attacking their goslings.  Only after being bested in battle did he tolerate one other family on the pond – the others all had to walk to a pond downstream.  Being attacked by a goose is scary, as they fly straight at your head.  This happened to me one time when I walked too close to a nest, and so I learned to stay out of the nesting area while the females are sitting on eggs.

This year’s goslings have fledged now, and their parents have taken them off on a tour of the neighborhood.  When fall arrives, they’ll be back for the big migration muster.  Some years there are upwards of 300 geese on the pond for a few days.  And then there are none.