In a week or two this shoreline will draw anglers soaking up spring while soaking worms to tempt panfish in shallow, warming water. The bobber watchers may not jostle for position but will surely work to outmaneuver each other for the best spots.
This morning there are no anglers on the marshy bay, covered in thin ice for at least one more day. There are, however, a lot of geese, and they do jostle, wings clashing if verbal threats aren’t taken seriously. Canada geese are in pairs, claiming nesting sites in snowy patches of cattails and reeds poking from the ice.
I’m seated tight to the shoreline. Winter is on the leave but has left its mark. Stubborn spits of snow and wet ground are covered with branches from an ice storm. Bits of garbage are strewn about, though scarlet twigs on a red osier shrub pay no mind.
Geese are paired up for as far as I can see—dozens of “gooses in deuces.” Truces of courtship appear in place, though every so often a lone goose, probably having lost its mate, wanders about. It gets chased away, its hope for a new mate dwindling; geese mate for life, until death do they part.
Today the geese walk on crumbling, darkening ice, sometimes stopping to rest their bellies on the surface or stand on one leg. I vow to sit and watch in an attempt to read their nesting behavior. I have a lot to learn.
Just when I think there is peace among the geese, suddenly one pair begins honking. Honking loud. Apparently, another twosome has come too close, though to my eye the “offenders” are simply waddling aimlessly. The honking male, slightly larger than the less irritated female, makes a short dash at the other male. They awkwardly tangle, clashing wings. Then it all quiets down again.
What am I watching? Is there already a nest I can’t see, hidden on an elevated clump of ground in the cattails? Has dogged nest defense begun? Perhaps egg laying has started. Could well be, for geese, like many birds, lay an egg a day before incubation begins, allowing for simultaneous hatching of a half dozen goslings, maybe more, maybe less.
I shift position and sharpen my camera focus, framing geese in cattails 125 feet away. But what’s this? A few feet from my feet a sleek creature comes through a platter-size hole in the ice. A river otter, dripping wet, pauses next to the bank near exposed tree roots. It sees me fumble with my camera and tripod, then it whirls and dives back down the hole, leaving me with a photo of a tail.
I turn my focus back to the bay. A bald eagle circles above, male red-winged blackbirds atop cattails trill “conk-la-REE,” and a lone duck passes over, drawing a few honks.
The geese are calm but guarded. When egg-sitting begins, they will aggressively and tirelessly fend off predators, including that otter. The geese are focused on the goal of goslings, spring’s detail in the cattails.
Note: For more essays like this, my book, “Soul of the Outdoors,” is available by contacting me at davegreschner@icloud.com or 715-651-1638. The book is also available through online book sellers, and at Wisconsin bookstores in Rice Lake (Old Bookshop), Eau Claire (Dotters), Menomonie (Dragon Tale), Hudson (Chapter2Books), Spooner (Northwinds), Three Lakes (Mind Chimes), Cable (Redbery Books),and Bayfield (Honest Dog), and in Duluth, Minn., at The Bookstore at Fitger’s.