In my completion of daily horse chores, I often hear the familiar honks of Canada geese as they pass overhead.
This spring, however, there was one honk that sounded a little different from the others. I am fairly certain it was Gary greeting me.
Two summers ago my family unknowingly fostered a Canada goose into adulthood. What was then a gray and yellow fuzzy ball grew up to be a beautiful black and gray goose by summer’s end.
I named him Gary, not knowing his true gender.
After taking flying lessons from my husband, Bryan, who would flap his arms up and down in a flying motion as he ran across the yard, Gary took final flight in the fall of 2014, flying south down the gravel road from our farm.
All of us hoped he would return.
Wildlife officials said geese are keyed into where they were raised, and if they are successful in breeding, they will return within two years.
I think Gary returned in March 2015, stopping briefly at the farm with other 1-year-old geese. He spent a few weeks in the area honking daily greetings before disappearing again.
This spring as geese were flying into the area and making nests, I believe Gary was among them.
The first Gary sighting happened as I was returning to the house from letting the horses out to the pasture. A pair of geese circled the silos before landing in the field east of the farm.
For several days I greeted them, and the bigger bird would honk back at the verbal greeting. Then the pair would be gone.
Several weeks later I was positioning the electric fence near the waterway when a pair of birds landed nearby.
I shouted, “Hi, Gary!?”
This time the larger one answered with several honks and walked to within 50 feet of where I was working.
We carried on a conversation as I pounded in poles and strung up the wire. While the smaller bird (“the missus,” as I referred to her) walked away, the larger bird did not.
A discussion with him took place for almost 20 minutes.
I asked the bird if he had a nest nearby and how many eggs it contained.
“One?” I asked.
The larger bird answered with a honk and a tossing of his head in an upward position. The smaller one was silent and continued to walk down the waterway
“Two?” I asked. Again a honk and head toss.
Three?
Honk. Head toss.
I got to six but didn’t go higher. I thought Gary was just bragging.
As our conversation ended, I asked him to bring the kids by once they hatched. The pair then left, making a circle around the farm, and flew back to the river.
The birds returned for a couple more days of quick “hello” greetings.
It’s been months since that discussion, and I hoped Gary would drop by with the family before flying north.
He did not. Or at least I wasn’t home to witness it.
As I completed chores last week, I thought I heard a honk.
Gary?
Fingers crossed, I am excited at the possibility of meeting the family of eight.