“In the spring a young man’s fancy turns to love.” As this spring begins to dawn, I hesitantly acknowledge that the same aphorism might apply to an old goose. I do not intend to suggest that Gladys has become a loving creature filled with goodwill for everyone she encounters, but something has changed in her demeanor, particularly toward me.
Gladys was a present to our family from our friend, Michelle Simmons, the preeminent poultry guru of the Northern Neck, 16 years ago, to serve as a consort to our beloved Lou, now of happy memory. From the day of her arrival, Gladys has been a cantankerous individual, thinking only of herself, hogging every serving of food, allowing the other barnyard occupants to dine only after she had satiated herself.
Her indiscriminate honking must have been most annoying to them, and she and Lou never really hit it off. She and Henry are more accepting of each other and he seems willing to go along with her wishes, but I long ago abandoned all hope of goslings, having concluded that Gladys is simply not the maternal type, much to my profound regret. Goslings are such fun and they easily can become among one’s favorite pets.
Despite my efforts to ingratiate myself with Gladys, she consistently has treated me merely as a meal ticket. Expressions of gratitude have been beyond her purview. She is a stately animal, almost regal in her bearing. Henry keeps his distance from her and the two of them clearly are not an “item.”
Henry was hatched by my late friend, Lewis Shelton, and as I have written previously, he is a “people person,” much more interested in me and our family than he is in fellow fowl. When he first arrived three years ago, in trying to acclimatize himself to his new home, he looked to us to help him adjust. Gladys did not attempt to make him feel welcome, but she did not voice any resentment over his presence. Basically, she has ignored him. Perhaps the big problem is that he does not know he is a gander, having lived his entire life with Lewis and Mae Shelton and then with us. People are his world.
Gladys, on the other hand, has no human pretensions. Quite simply, she is a bossy goose, who has not been interested in anyone but herself, or so I have thought these many years, but this year a new facet of her personality is emerging. She is becoming more attuned to our family. She is less involved in mentoring Quack than she has been ever since his arrival as a duckling. The chickens never have been anything to her but a pain in her wingspan. She especially resents them at mealtime.
Perhaps taking a leaf from Henry’s playbook, Gladys now has begun honking to me, rather than honking at me. Henry and I have animated conversations whenever we get together. Gladys has begun joining in, adding her honks in a new dulcet tone, quite different from her previous sound, which almost was akin to a mad dog barking.
Now she allows the chickens and ducks to eat in peace. For years I have worried about their digestive systems as well as their emotional health, given her behavior toward them. Being hungry and anxious to eat, only to have a much larger denizen of the coop demanding to get to the feeding trough first, I used to think could have caused serious health issues. I realize that the proverbial “pecking order” is a fact of life among our feathered friends and that it has been beyond my ability to alter it.
The new Gladys may not be turning her attention to love as the season of renewal bursts upon us, but fortuitously she has rounded a corner in expressing herself, seemingly leaving the old Gladys in the past.
