Once the soybean field is harvested, the geese come…
It’s 6:30 p.m. and the sun is setting. All of the sudden, the air is filled with the honks of hundreds of Canada geese arising from the field. Their song is heard for miles as it builds to a glorious crescendo. Each group of birds instinctively falls into “V” formation and circles the field before flying off in different directions. The sky is clear in minutes.
As the last rays of light give way to darkness, the geese find safe haven floating atop lapping waves of nearby ponds and lakes. For the next week they will return every morning to pick the harvested fields clean. And every evening, as dusk approaches, they will leave—until they come no more.
My family has grown accustomed to the presence of the geese in the fall, but we refuse to take them for granted. When the honking starts, I run outside and gaze up at the majestic bodies flying overhead. Soon the screen door bangs and the children join me. We watch, spellbound, as more and more birds take off. Then I tell them a secret. “If the geese fly low enough you can hear their hearts beating.” They laugh.
I raise my arms and wave wildly toward the sky. “Hello, hello! I’m here! I love you!” Tears spring to my eyes. I’m crazy! I sound like a three-year-old…but I can’t help it. I want to tell the geese how I feel. In the shelter of the barn, our own geese stir as they hear my voice rise on the frosty air. Their honks join those of the wild ones as if to say, “Fly high…fly free, for me.” And standing in awe, with my arms outstretched, I can only echo their cry.
