November 27, 2011

Reisa Stone: Wild Geese

     Today's Animal Communication miracle left me breathless. I felt an urgent sense to drive across town to our beautiful regional park. As a matter of principle regarding privatization of the wild, I disagree with the parking charge. so I was going to park outside the gates and walk the extra distance on the road. By the time I was halfway there, I had to pee so badly, I trespassed into a farmer's green field (with bushes :-D).
     I heard the wild honking of countless geese. They drowned out tractor and boat noise and the clip clop of a horse on the road. As I stood in the field of long grass and clover, a flock of over one hundred Canada Geese rose from the lagoon an eighth of a mile away. They flew in a curving line east, towards me. As they reached a point above my head, they arc'ed to the south. If you dropped a plumb line from the exact centre of the flock, there I'd be. 
     They were only twenty feet in the air. The sound was overwhelming; nothing existed but the geese, the sky and me. I could see the dark masks on their faces, the undersides of their beaks and the softness of their light gray breasts. The individual feathers on their wings undulated in the autumn sun. My skin tingled.
     A few seconds later, another flock took the same path. Within half an hour, I experienced a similar phenomenon thirteen times. With the exception of two flocks and three straggling couples, the geese flew straight towards me, and turned south precisely over my head. It was as if I were the centre of the gyre, the strange magnet on which these creatures pivot to their winter home.
     I had the stray thought, "Eeeek I hope they don't go to the bathroom on me." One answered, "Don't worry, we went before we left home." It made me smile. He sounded like a precocious five year old, with the baritone voice of an adult.
     I stood there for another ten minutes. The lagoon and sky were silent.
     I'm new to this area. I had no idea that geese live in huge numbers in this partially hidden lagoon, let alone that they all migrate on a certain day. I can only honour the fact that over one thousand Canada Geese chose to fly south at 4:45 pm, October 27, 2011. I was there.

Reisa Stone, 
Expert Animal Communicator

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My favorite poem, by Mary Oliver:

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

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