I will share a little something that I have enjoyed over the years. This morning I drove back from The Bronx to Albany NY. The first part of my drive is a frantic race north on the Bronx River Parkway. I am very familiar with this stretch of highway since I used to drive it daily when I lived in New York City and worked in Orangeburg NY.
As I approach White Plains, one of my favorite things to do is to pay close attention in hopes of catching a glimpse of a particular goose that frequents a depression in the grass near the parkway. I have come to call this goose “my goose”. Exactly why I came to believe that it somehow belonged to me may have something to do with the fact that at one point this goose had become an important part of my morning commute.
I was thrilled when, once again, this morning I spotted my goose. This goose looks like a farm goose x graylag goose hybrid and has a snow white neck and head and a light gray body. I have been amazed to see it nearly every other time I drive this northward route since the summer of 1999 when I first noticed it. It has been about six months now since the last time I have seen it, and I was hoping that it would be there.
I find it fascinating that this goose has hung out around this patch of grass for over 6 years now. Alongside one of the busiest parkways in New York City no less. I wonder what its days are like. Whether it is awakened by the rush of early morning traffic, and if it appreciates the calmer weekends like I do. What is it like to sleep in the grass with the dew, or the snow in winter? How can it choose to drink the nasty runoff from the parkway? The air isn’t very fresh either with all the traffic, so I’d imagine that I would fly away to a more pastoral habitat. What surprises me though is that because I can identify it as an individual, and that I have known of it for so long, I find myself thinking about it as a fellow being and imagining its life with details that I rarely entertain when watching other birds or animals.
I enjoy watching birds. Sometimes I will watch a Mallard and wonder what it is like to sit in the cold water with your bare feet dangling below. And how it might feel to push yourself through the water like a boat by kicking your feet. Or on cold days I might wonder how shocking landing must be as you plunge into the water. Or how your feet might hurt landing on ice. I think about these things with other birds and animals, but with this goose it is different…a little more intimate if you will. I wonder what it thinks about as it munches grass alongside the parkway. Has it had a good life? Does it get along well with the Canada Geese? It seems to. But then I realize that the Canada Geese that are hanging out with it just might be the same Canada Geese that I have been seeing all these years, or perhaps their sons and daughters. I would never know the difference.
For several years this goose was an integral part of my morning commute, but its friends and mate (it did have one once) are still indistinguishable to me. It is my goose, but the ones that are important to it are just geese to me like a thousand other geese. I am reminded of the story of the Fox and The Little Prince where the Fox says “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” It is the time that I have wasted thinking about this goose that has made it so important to me. But then I realize that to my goose my car is just one of tens of thousands of cars racing by with a rush of air. But if the goose watches closely it will see me with my nose flattened against the windowpane.
Kevin Knuth
Delmar, New York
This post was written by drknuth on March 27, 2006
