Wild Goose Chase

This morning I laid a wild goose to rest. These are words I never imagined writing and yet they come at me, in such a way that I must get them down right now.

I started my morning with my new normal, rising before dawn, laying down my yoga mat in front of the propane looks like a wood stove, starting my own herbal tea blend with a bit of black tea and doing my version of yoga and stretching as I wait for it to brew. By the time I finish those stretches, my tea is ready and I settle into the rocking chair by the fire to peruse some writings by other writers that I am just discovering as the sun rises, the sweet early morning light moving up the mountains that lie outside my south-facing windows.

On this morning, I also lit some incense to add to the mood and enjoy the solitude, my little dog on the rocking chair beside me and one of the cats soaking up the heat near the stove. I spend time learning about a Japanese writer I have never heard of, order a few of his books from my local library. I read a few essays of writers I have never heard of but whose words resonate with me, saving their articles. I have chosen to do this instead of scrolling social media each morning before I begin my own writing.

Today I spend so long reading others work that I put my own writing on hold while I took the dog to the lake for her daily walk. Our lake is quiet and peaceful in the winter, the summer tourists long gone and we walk together, yet separate, me lost in thought and the beauty of the freshly fallen snow on the rocks near the water, her checking out her normal spots, reading her version of news of what has gone on there since yesterday. As I drew nearer to the water, I see something floating in the lake, just beyond the boat ramp, too far to walk into the water to reach. I regret having come without my glasses, knowing that with them I could probably identify what I am seeing, rather than assuming it is definitely a dead body. I picture my binoculars at home, sitting near the TV after using them a couple of nights previously to identify a crazy bright light across the fields from my house. I walk closer, squinting my eyes, trying desperately to make out what I am seeing. I know that I will not rest until I know for sure, so I load up the dog and make a trip back home, a matter of only a few minutes, though it takes a little longer due to the snow and ice covered roads. I unlock the front door, grab my glasses and the binoculars and make my way back to the lake.

I drive closer to the boat ramp, leave the truck running and walk to the edge of the dropdown to the rocky beach, using the binoculars to zoom in. What I see is a floating wild goose, her neck bent backwards on her body with her head trailing in the water. I think to myself that she is where she should be and try to continue on my walk with the dog….but I find myself unable to walk away from her. I pick my way through the snow-covered rocks, watching each step carefully, until I am near her. By now she has floated much closer to the beach and it looks like I may be able to reach her. I balance myself as I step onto wet rocks, knowing my boots are waterproof to a certain point. Inevitably, I misjudge the water’s depth and feel the cold water fill my boot. Knowing I will have to fully commit to a cold plunge to reach her, I retreat once again. She continues to float closer to the edge of the beach and I convince myself that I can reach her after all, walking out once again on the wet rocks and use the plastic ball thrower to just reach her, pulling her close to me.

She is beautiful, completely unmarred except for a drop of bright red, slightly translucent blood on her wing. She is still warm and so majestic. I consider what I am doing, what I wish to do and what the right thing to do is. I find myself unable to just leave her floating – it seems disrespectful, and I worry that someone will come along and do, well, I do not know what, but I worry. I pull her from the water, holding her close to my body, whispering words of rest in peace. I begin to walk, deciding if I should take her home to my garden where I can place her under a pile of straw and rocks. As I walk, I know that I must leave her here and decide to place her body under a cache of rocks so that she will not be disturbed by a dog or wild animal.

I do know how silly this all sounds, especially in a place such as where I live. It is the wilderness and nature will be nature. For some reason, though, this particular wild goose struck a sentimental cord in me. I walk along the rocky beach, looking for just the right spot. I spy up ahead, nearer the dam end of the lake, a huge slab of rock, balanced with a few smaller ones underneath, making a bit of a hollow. I gently lay the wild goose down and my dog gives her a cursory sniff before wandering off. I turn her over, trying to see if I can figure out why she died and find more blood underneath and a single puncture wound. As if a predator grabbed for her but did not quite catch her. I pull a few smaller stones out from the hollow until I can comfortably reach to place the wild goose far underneath. Once I have her situated in what seems to be a comfortable position, I begin gathering heavy rocks and placing them at every opening around the slab, hoping to keep as many critters from her as possible.

I understand that something will get in there – I imagine a small critter will use her feathers to make a warm nest of its own and her flesh to sustain its own life through our harsh winter.

By now I am breathing heavily from the exertion and begin removing layers of hats, gloves and my coat for I have worked up a sweat doing this work. My dog demands her satisfaction with chasing the ball, still, and so I throw it again and again for her as we go back to the truck.

For myself, I wonder what the spiritual meaning is for me. My dreaming has been incredibly lucid and vivid this last week or so, full of animal symbolism and water. Just two nights ago I dreamt about finding a turtle in a pet carrier and opened it to find the turtle was dead, its head lolling. It seems to me there is a connection here and I look forward to the mental meandering to come with this.