The Geese Show

The Fall and Spring seasons have always brought a spectacular sight to our household. Twice each year we are treated to hundreds of thousands of migratory ducks, Canadian geese, and sandhill cranes that fly over our house on their way north or south.

The sheer number of these birds never ceases to amaze me. Most years, I can step out onto my deck and watch and listen to thousands of birds as they fly over in their familiar aerodynamic V-shaped formations. Each formation contains somewhere between 50 and 100 birds and there are dozens and dozens of the formations. Sometimes they are so low you can hear the distinctive swish of their wings as they flap to create lift and thrust. At some point, our family began to call this sight The Geese Show.

We are blessed with this bi-annual pilgrimage because of the Horicon National Wildlife Refuge located approximately 40 miles north/northwest of our community. The refuge consists of a 33,000-acre wetland created by the continental glacier thousands of years ago. It is one of the largest freshwater marshes in the United States and is a key rest stop for the birds on their travels. The surrounding farmland provides the flocks easy access to abundant food sources.

I have become so accustomed to this migration each spring and fall that some seasons I don’t even take note of it. Yet year after year the birds return whether I notice or not. Their migration is timeless.

This year I turned 60 and the Geese Show started me thinking about my own mortality. For most of my life, I’ve barely noticed the passing of the years. Yes, my kids have grown and matured, and I have definitely noted the passage of time on them as they grew. I’ve cycled through cars, snowblowers, refrigerators, clothes, and the like, but through all these changes, I have somehow failed to notice the subtle changes in myself.

My hair has turned from blonde to pure white (or arctic blonde as I like to call it). In my mind, and on my driver’s license, I still identify as blonde even though it has been more than a decade since I could truly call myself that.

I am still blessed with good health and fitness, but I am no longer fearless when undertaking tasks that require coordination and balance. I find myself taking less risk or purposefully taking extra time to complete tasks I once performed effortlessly. In addition, the loss of my loved ones and ensuing grief has made me much less tolerant of individuals who don’t recognize the frailty of life and appreciate their loved ones, faults and all.

My own losses have jolted me into the realization that my time is not limitless. Like the flocks of geese, the annual migration continues, but the individual birds that comprise their beautiful formations are constantly changing. So it is with life, the march of time continues, but its composition is in a constant state of flux.

I must move forward with purpose and recognize the wonder of each year, month, and day. As my days count down closer and closer to their inevitable conclusion, I should not waste any moments on frivolous or trivial pursuits. Neither should I indulge individuals who attempt to bring a vortex of negativity to my life.

I have been blessed with the opportunity to take part in this beautiful flight called life, but time stops for no one. My part in this show will not last forever. I hope to make every day and hour count. I wish that for all of you as well.