We were enjoying our drive through the peaceful countryside when we spotted, and heard, a giant flock of birds. We thought they were seagulls at first. As we got closer, we realized they were geese. Thousands of geese, descending upon a winter cornfield. There were layers of them in the sky. Each group choosing a different current to ride, circling the field, and taking its turn to land. There were a few Canadian Geese speckled amongst them but the rest were pure white with black wing tips and tail feathers. I later learned they were Snow Geese.
My Husband has a bad habit of taking photos of life moments at the risk of not living the moment. I find myself constantly stopping his desperate search for the camera in the midst of a precious moment with the kids. I do it so often though that I think it's now my default whether he could truly miss the moment or not. He suggested taking a picture of the geese, which I immediately saw as ridiculous. How could someone capture the immensity of the scene? It was one of those few times in a city dwellers life where you realize that humans aren't the biggest thing going on out there. These geese were more majestic and awe inspiring than anything I'd seen in months. How could we preserve that feeling? But Adam knew better. He pulled over on a side road adjacent to the field, and stopped the car.
He got out of the car and took our two-year old son, Corban. They began climbing up the incline into the field. It proved to be a bit challenging, but with a few stumbles they got up there. I stayed in the car initially, worried that our baby would have hissy fit for being stuck in the car and yet not wanting to remove her for fear of a hissy fit getting her back in. But I opened the door so I could hear. I was ok with them trespassing, but couldn't muster the courage to do it myself, noting that the owner of the farm was probably looking on.
I could write a separate piece using this circumstance as an analogy for my life. How Adam gets into the field and I put a toe into the field but leave one foot in the car. I'm learning more and more how unnecessary fear has gripped my life and has been running through my blood since before I was born. How I worry too much about how things should be done instead of just risking imprudency. But that's another story for another day. In this story, I eventually got out of the car and took pictures.
It's a miracle no one got pooped on with thousands of birds flying overhead, but we all remain unscathed. We watched the geese land and fill in the field, making room for the next flock like they were playing a game of wilderness tetris. My Men wanted to get closer but of course the geese wanted none of that. As they approached, the geese huddled together and walked away nervously. Corban wanted to be amidst them I am sure. I remember the days when I thought that wild animals secretly wanted to be my buddies. When I imagined that if no one were looking, they would accept me as one of their own. It's so sad that they don't. Don't they know I would just snuggle them? I'd even dig for insects for those geese and preen their feathers if they would let me hang out. Maybe I haven't grown up after all.
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| flying overhead |
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| zeroing in for a landing |
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| Canadian Goose Herding Snow Geese |
