My heart goes where the wild goose goes

October 12th, I was out at William L. Finley National Wildlife Refuge with the nip of fall just barely showing on the trees. As Farm Boss and I walked along the trail, we could hear the geese calling. I wanted to ask them, Where are you going? Can I come? I will follow.

The closer we got, the louder they were. Hundreds of geese, maybe thousands, some making a deep whooping sound and the others more like when you hear when a flock goes overhead.

I must go where the wild goose goes.

My heart knows what the wild goose knows,
Wild goose, brother goose, which is best?
A wanderin' fool or a heart at rest?

Tonight I heard the wild goose cry,
Wingin' north in the lonely sky.
Tried to sleep, it weren't no use,
'Cause I am a brother to the old wild goose,

It's not like I need to go with them but there is a thrill in hearing and seeing them that makes me think about it. I have often heard flocks overhead with that thrilling sound of a thousand birds calling to each other. Going north, heading south or just circling the valley, the sound of wild geese always calls to me.

A young man along the bank said he had identified Lesser Canada Geese, Cackling Geese and Great Basin, the latter two are also Canada Geese.

Woman was kind and true to me.
She thinks she loves me, the more fool she.
She's got a love that ain't no use,
To love a brother of the old wild goose.

The cabin is warm and the snow is deep,
I got a woman who lies asleep.
She'll wake at tomorrow's dawn,
She'll find, poor critter, that her man is gone.

Poor critter? Well it's a wonderful song to sing and hearing it makes me feel like taking off on an adventure. Shall I go south with the geese? Not this year but maybe some year.

The geese were excited, stirred up. I would watch them lift off from the pond. A few would head upward; then when nobody followed, they'd drop back onto the water. Some would go east and some west. Were these geese resting up for further migration or are they the ones that spend the winter here?

More lifted off as though, yes, now, let's go now. Come on... When not enough followed, they would again settle back on the water. After a few of false starts and building energy, they all lifted off. Wow!

The sound of their wings as they took off, I swear it was like a nature climax for the ecstasy you could feel as their flocks rose, building in power and purpose as they set their patterns for flight. The whoosh of a thousand wings or more, it was power and excitement. Describing it goes beyond words.

Does one bird decide, yes now? Do some of them get enthused by those young ones soaring and landing? How is the decision made that now-- we will go now?

Finley Refuge is only open for hiking until November 1. Then they close most of the trails until April 1 so the birds have it all, leaving a few small blinds where human visitors can watch but not be intrusive. It's a wonderful gift to be someplace like that and hear those sounds because the hearing is as much the power as the vision.

Lyrics: Cry of the Wild Goose, written by Terry Gilkyson, and sung most famously by Frankie Laine. Photos from Finley October 12, 2008

If you haven't seen Winged Migration, definitely rent it. I had bought the soundtrack too just because the music, the sounds were so stirring. It gives a small taste of what it's like to be out at a nature preserve with those big flocks: Nick Cave-- To be by your side