EKOS Communications, Inc.

This time, we were joined on the island by more people arriving by powerboats (almost all zodiacs) than we had ever experienced previously. I get nervous when I see this. Powerboats enable far more stuff to be brought along, such as coolers filled with booze and carted by merry-makers more concerned about having a good time than about impinging on other peoples’ solitude. But in this case, those that choose to camp there turned out to be more interested in appreciating the natural beauty of the place.

One day, with a strong southwester whipping the sea into sizable waves and the kayaks remaining safely tethered to a beach log well above the high tide mark, I decided to do something I hadn’t taken time to do in ages - bird-watching. So with binoculars in hand, I wandered off in the direction of some large open meadows.

No sooner had I arrived when a startling flash of yellow and black swirled by, followed by many others. Alighting a limb near by, I identified the dazzling flashers as a flock of American Goldfinchs. Not far away, I heard the distinctive call of the Olive-Sided Flycatcher “quick three beers” so I decided to seek it out as I had never actually seen one, other than in photos. Soon I found myself on a familiar trail that once was an old road leading down to a tine inlet on the north side of the island. Realizing that the flycatcher was constantly moving about and that I could end up wandering in circles without ever laying an eye on the illusive bird, I followed the trail instead.

Arriving at the inlet, I found it empty. Low tide now exposed the mucky weedy bottom. A tiny patch of sand no more than 1. metre square caught my eye as a hghly favourable place to sit for a spell. In a few minutes, a flock of Canada geese flew over my head, wheeled around and dropped in low over the water at the mouth of the inlet. They did not land but instead came straight up the inlet towards me and passed overhead. They banked again and dropped down for a second time.

Three landed in front of me in the middle of the inlet, while the rest landed at the water’s edge. One of the three, immediately began honking in a very regular pattern.

Eventually, the rest of the flock began to waddle up the inlet towards the three in front of me. A pair of adults with six goslings came charging from behind and soon overtook all the other birds. The adults were likely the parents and as they walked, they bobbed their heads frequently {not sure what this is about. Will have to do some research on this]. One of the goslings was much larger than the other five and had traces of adult colouration showing. {Why one should be so much advanced than the others, I also do not know but want to find out].

The two adults and six goslings were making a bee-line straight for the end of the inlet, which I found very curious. I couldn’t imagine why they would be wanting up there. Soon the rest of the flock was falling in line behind them. Within minutes, one of the first three birds to land follows after the rest of the flock, leaving the honker and one other bird.

By now, it was clear that these three birds were scouts and guards, sent in first to investigate the safety of the area and last to follow the flock to ensure no surprises from the rear.

The second to last bird finally began to slowly move off in the direction of the others, only the honker remained now. Many times he appeared to look right at me [but I don’t know what it saw as I remained motionless and my clothing colours may have blended with the rocks, logs and greenery around me], but gave no sign of alarm. Many more precious minutes slide by before it finally turned to join the others.

After only going a few paces, the goose suddenly quit honking, lowered its head pointing almost in my direction and looked ready to fight. I doubted that I had done anything to rouse such a reaction. Then I heard two loud swooshes of great wings flapping and looked up just in time to watch a bald eagle swing in to haze the goose a little before continuing to glide out over the open water. With the predator gone, the goose picked up its pace and soon disappeared out of my line of sight.

Although I was dying to see what the flock was doing at the end of the inlet less than 100 metres away, I knew I had to be very cautious and move with a great deal of stealth. Slowly rising to a standing position and leaning out from behind the rock, I peered at where the flock should and froze in disbelief. They had all vanished!

After a few seconds, surprise gave way to suspense. Early I had crossed a trail made by animals. It started at the rocks lining the inlet’s terminus and ran up a steep, but short bank and into a thicket of small Douglas firs. The year before I had explored this trail, hoping to find out what kind of animal had made it, but I came up with insufficient clues to draw any solid conclusions. This time when I had crossed the trail, I had noticed lots of goose droppings and down.

The geese had obviously gone up the bank and into the forest, but why? For rest? I couldn’t envision being on land in confined quarters as a safe place for a goose. Unless, the geese have figured out that there are no land predators on the island. No coyotes, no raccoons.

I sat back and waited to see when they would re-emerge.

I didn’t have to wait long. Three birds fly past me towards the open water which was now much closer on account of the rising tide. They had been in the forest for less than 20 minutes. Immediately upon landing, one of the three commences honking again. Probably the same three birds performing the same security role, I thought. Sure enough, a few minutes later, out march the rest of the flock, except the family of eight. Why had they remained behind?

Two Canada geese flew in, landed and began walking towards those coming out of the inlet. At first I thought they might be from the same flock, but such was definitely not the case. The two recently-arrived birds dropped their heads and charged the other birds with some loud hissing. The out-going flock veered away and let the two pass with a wide berth.

Now this could get interesting, I thought. What might happen if these two encounter the family back in the forest? Would feathers fly?

But suddenly things got even more interesting. Another pair of geese swooped in and landed in front of the two now waddling towards the end of the inlet. After some posturing and hissing, the newly arrived pair flew off, chased by the other two who apparently had a change in priorities.

No sooner had these two pairs gone flying off with much honking when my ears detected the soft chirping of chicks. From around the corner of the rock outcrop beside which I was reclining, the family of eight appeared. I glanced at my watch. They had been in the forest for almost one hour (just two minutes short). Joining the others, they swam out from the shoreline and then took to the air. As before, one by one, the three sentries rose to join them. The last to take to the air was the honker.

For more than two hours, I was completely absorbed and utterly lost in the behaviours of these Canada geese. I’ve come away with countless questions arising from peaked curiosity. Equally important I had experienced what I had come for, re-creation. A sense of belonging to a greater whole. Of being a part of the wonderous web of life.