This morning I saw the third flock of geese this season flying north.
Now I'm bad with directions, I get it, but if I was soaring above the ground, at dawn, I'm pretty sure I could figure out which way was east, and by picturing North America and holding my right wing toward the sun, I could thereby deduce which way was south.
These bad boys are heading straight for Canada.
I did wonder why geese honk so incessantly while they're flying. Why don't they save that energy for flapping? But now I think maybe these were arguing with the lead goose.
Several minutes after this third flock disappeared over the northern horizon, I watched one lone goose flap furiously across the sky, heading south, honking all the while by his lonesome self.
Whether this single goose overslept and was desperately trying to catch up, or he was a rogue who refused to listen one more minute to the directionally-challenged northbound lead goose, I do not know. Neither do I know whether he can make it to Mexico by himself.
But no matter how far he gets, come January, if the rest of the geese are still alive, shivering (and honking irritably at their leader) in the middle of the Northwest Territories--they'll all know that he was on the right side of history.
|Photo by Anchor Lee on Unsplash|