In July, I moved to a house with a big pond in the front yard. All along the same street, there are ponds in people’s yards. Up and down the road, you’ll spot ponds. Next to one of these ponds, you will see a flock of geese standing around, or most likely, relieving themselves on the grass or driveway next to the pond.
When they swim, they’re a gaggle of geese. However, if they’re flying, they’re a skein. Once they’re flying, there are lots of words to describe their formations, like chevron.
It’s interesting to read the descriptive terms for groups of birds. A murder of crows is the most well-known. A murder of geese would be more apt, though, if you’ve ever had to go outside and sweep the bird dung off your driveway. Or, if your dog decided that the droppings looked delicious.
There are all kinds of names for groups of birds: a charm of hummingbirds or goldfinches; a staring of owls; a covey of quail; a chattering of starlings; a party or band of jays; a wedge of swans; a raft of ducks; a host of sparrows; a flight of swallows; an exaltation of larks. A staring of owls is the most apt, I think.
What I want to know is who sat around and came up with all of these slightly mad names for groups of birds? Obviously a terror of retirees … or a palace of drunk/high people.
But, let’s get back to my original topic. I said earlier that there were many ponds in my neighborhood, but if you spotted the geese, they would be in front of one pond. That is because this very large flock of geese is treating the neighborhood like a pub crawl. One day they’ll be at my pond. Then they’ll all decide to walk, en masse, across the busy street — despite the fact that they flew hundreds or thousands of miles to get here — to another pond.
They love stopping traffic. When I hear them honking, I just know the leader has just announced that it’s time to find another person’s property to defecate on, and all of the follower geese are agreeing that that is a wonderful idea, but only if they get to walk to their next destination.
Besides being jerks, geese are mean, too. I got too close to one and it hissed at me. I’ve heard of geese attacking people who’ve annoyed them. They love to intimidate people. If they were human, they’d be gangsters or enforcers. I learned to keep my distance from them, but sometimes it’s hard, and not just because I’m perverse. It’s tempting to try to shoo them off the property. But, once geese have decided that your pond is where they are spending the day, as a flock or a gaggle, you might as well give in and locate your broom for the next day. They will leave piles everywhere. Relieving themselves is like a job for them, and they are very good at their job.
When I lived in Connecticut, we had a town beach that was overrun by geese. It was very tricky walking across the grass in the park to the sand on the beach because the geese had transformed the lawn into their toilet. This year, the town installed blue lights that were designed to keep the geese away. They worked wonderfully. The geese relocated across the park to the softball field.
I looked into geese deterrents for my property. Those blue lights are expensive, but I discovered a cheaper solution: grape Kool-Aid. There is something in grape Kool-Aid that they hate. I’m in a quandary, though. The house I live in belongs to my brother and his wife. If I put grape Kool-Aid around the perimeter of the pond, some of it will be bordering his white driveway. When it rains, the Kool-Aid will stain the driveway purple. I can’t decide whether I should risk my brother’s wrath at the mess in his driveway, though.
I have nowhere else to live … unlike the geese, who will eventually go home to Canada to annoy the nice Canadians.
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