"Come quick, there's an animal out of its cage running around!"
I dropped my rake and shovel and ran out as quickly as I can (making sure to carefully close and lock the aviary behind me - no reason to compound the escape problem) and followed her in a hurry.
"What is it?" I asked, unhooking my radio from my belt.
"A bird - a big black bird!"
Well, to be sure, that could have been any number of things. It could have been a raven - which was brought to us with some wing injuries, so probably wouldn't be too hard to catch. It could be a male curassow, a mindlessly-aggressive turkey-like bird from Latin America. Or a black swan. Or a cassowary, in which case, we were all probably going to die.
Unfortunately, no further details were coming, just "big", "black", and "bird." (I feel the need to point out that this visitor did not appear to be someone from whom English was not their first language, so I'm not sure why we couldn't go into a little more detail here.)
"There!" She yelled, stopping suddenly and pointing dead ahead. Looming in the center of the path, largely ignored by everyone else but given a reasonable berth was... a Canada goose. Identical, in fact, to every single member of the flock of thirty that was grazing a few yards away on one of our lawns. Or the dozens that were swimming in the nearby creek. I looked over this visitor again - appearance, clothes, accent... nothing to suggest that she wasn't a local. I tried to wrap my head around an adult human being who had lived in this area for more than seven minutes without encountering a Canada goose before. When I told her what it was, the name meant nothing to her. She still thought it was some exotic zoo beast on the loose.
I mean, they aren't even predominately black...
Courtesy of Doc Thompson, Facebook
I love waterfowl, but Canada geese are ones of the banes of my existence. During the nesting season, they become savagely protective of their nests and attack small children who try to harass them. But they have negative qualities as well. They eat food meant for other animals, sometimes chasing them off their own diets. They decimate our grass. And there's that smug look on their face when they poop on the path directly in front of you, then look at you like they're saying, "That's right. I did that."
An adorably naive new keeper once asked if we could catch them all and sell them to or trade them with zoos in other countries, where they would be considered "exotic." I had to patiently explain that that's not how this works, and that they are protected as native wildlife. Besides, as invasive as Canada geese have proven to be around the world, there's almost nowhere where I think they really would be considered "exotic."
Canada geese have their place here. It's just that they also have a time here, too, and that time is not during the spring and summer. Then, they're supposed to be in... well, Canada, sitting on eggs and raising their young, then migrating down for the winter. The problem is that life is so pleasant down here what with no predators and endless grassy lawns that they see no need to migrate anymore. They have become alien invaders in their own country.
With proper legal permits, there are steps that can be taken to reduce their numbers and impact. There is a hunting season, of course, but not in the residential and urban areas where they make their presence most known. There is egg control, through pinning or oiling (don't bother removing the eggs - they'll just lay more). There is harassment, through trained dogs and other methods. Still, Canada geese are tough, resilient birds. They can be hard to scare off for too long, and they breed fast.
After all, it wasn't by being lazy, stupid, or weak that they conquered the United States. So we continue our arms race - I try to drive them off, they slip back in as soon as my back is turned. I'll probably be doing it for the rest of my career. I'm still just amazed, however, that a functioning human adult had gone so much of her life without ever noticing the geese among us.
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