Goose, Goose, Grey Goose

The noisiest goose in the world has lived on our pond for three years. The goose wars drove off all the Canadian geese, but this lone grey goose stayed. It honks at all hours of the day and night, the loudest, most plaintive cry I've ever heard from a fowl.

Seven weeks ago, her silence woke me in the night. Her cries had waked me at least once a night for three years, so her silence was palpable and a bit alarming. A few days later, a glimpse of her at the edge of the pond reassured me. In the last two or three weeks, I've neither seen nor heard her. Yesterday, my neighbor happened to be outside when I was out with Cassie, and I asked her about the goose.

"Oh, she's here," Carolyn said, pointing to the corner.

That poor goose has been sitting on a nest of eggs for seven weeks. She's now rail thin and cannot manage even a bleat. I got fairly close to take this picture. Her beak opened. Her tongue fluttered. No sound came out. She is literally dying to become a mother.

I recognize her desperation.