While always attentive to the scene that repeats annually, I admit I view it with a great deal more sympathy this time around.

The Canada geese return sometime in late February. The lake’s still frozen but I hear them at night and see them circling over during my walks. Two (seldom more) will land, circling around as if to stake out the property as theirs.

I have no doubt it’s the same pair returning. I used to feed them and the young goslings from my hand until Henry discovered the kids made a delicious snack. Henry’s gone now so I hope to try again as soon as the weather turns a little more amicable.

Long before that can occur, the water melts and the geese settle. Moving water is so wonderful after the frozen stillness of winter. Skirmishes are expected in those first days while unwanted interlopers are nosily chased away. There may be a randy gander among them but I suspect most are simply last year’s kids set on a homecoming. Fat chance of that happening.

Then the first of the idyllic days set in. The pair is inseparable. When they fly, they talk continually to each other, two low notes for him and one higher in response, vocalization that can continue “at sea” though I doubt if one is ever that far from the other.

I have watched the mating which must take place in open water (as far as I know).

Then, not too terribly much longer, the couple separate. Obviously they don’t for who is a better example of steadfast devotion than the goose? It’s just I’m now beginning to see one floating alone. Every so often, perhaps every few hours, she’ll come in to join her swain. So swimmingly happy they seem to me. Then they come ashore for certainly hunger drives her.

One munches while the other, never moving, stands tall. She is vulnerable, so she must be protected. There’s always time afterwards for a swim or a lazy float.

Today a pair of mallards came ashore in what I saw as a friendly attempt to socialize with their larger cousins.

For whatever reason, the geese were having none of it and scurried off. Later I saw the same scene repeated with a pair of hooded mergansers. Guess these geese just want to be alone for now.

The two returned to land further away, visiting many parts of their property before separating again. It was a while before I located the nest. Sometimes it’s obvious. For years they preferred “Goose Island” which is why it got that name. But any spot of dry land seems all right. I have no more control over where they settle than about what they do but know one year a pair nested at the edge of the cornfield. Then the tractors came.

She’s on her way back now, he following about twelve feet behind. And out of sight!

Could their nest be on my land here? It’s possible of course. Old Molly is no threat though generally the geese prefer an island which strikes me as far safer. A pair of mallards fly over and away. That’s a freedom my geese won’t have for a while if all goes well.

“Ma” is most likely still in the early laying stage. As I recall, she lays one egg a day until that’s done. During that time her own responsibility is to keep the egg warm (not so easy when snow threatens), turn it occasionally and then keep adding siblings until she feels finished. It seems obvious to me that as the clutch increases, so will the time required to sit on the nest. For now there’s still time to relax and enjoy the company of her mate.

I wrote last year — June 14, 2019 — that, after what seemed a pretty normal start to the season, none of the eggs hatched as expected. One counts on twenty-eight days.

As I write this we’re pretty much under “house arrest” with COVID-19.

Solitary confinement can’t be that much different for the female goose than for us. Come to think of it, the gander has the freedom to move as he wishes. But what’s there to do when your lady is confined?

Does a goose have a philosophical thought when she’s left to brood?

I know I do.

Susan Crossett has lived in Arkwright for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. Information on all the Musings, her books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.