10/10/2026
At lunch recently, I read a Substack post by a favourite author (Susan Hill) about the arrival of Canada Geese in northern England. It got me thinking about my own fondness for them and what their coming and going has meant to me here in Canada.
I know many people consider them a nuisance, but I have loved Canada Geese for as long as I can remember. To me, they are part of the fabric of the year. Their raucous, honking calls are as much a sign of the changing seasons as anything else I can see.
In autumn, the change of season begins almost imperceptibly. There is a nip in the air in the morning and evening, and the unmistakable shortening of the days as darkness falls earlier and earlier. On sunny days, the sky is a clear and vivid blue behind maples turning scarlet and orange, the quieter golds and browns of other trees, and the deep greens of the pines. And as the leaves begin to fall, there is that particular smell of dying leaves.
And the geese begin to gather, in small and then ever-larger groups.
Living near a pond, with farmersโ fields not far away, we see great flocks of them at this time of year. At first, small groups take to the air and, in a higgledy-piggledy fashion, attempt to make a V and remember the unspoken, instinctive rules of formation. There are always stragglers who call noisily as they try to catch up with the flock. As the leaves change and fall, and the birds themselves grow fatter, their flights become more disciplined. The Vs grow longer and straighter, the calls more compelling, the tone more urgent.
Then, as the temperatures dip further and the first snows arrive, they get serious. Great mobs climb into the air with much discussion and self-encouragement, arrange themselves, and are goneโout of the darkening days and lengthening nights. I watch the incredible spectacle of them flying overhead and, as they go, I silently wish them a safe journey, away from huntersโ guns.
The first autumn after we moved into this house, my husband and I were lying in bed one night reading when we heard a single goose honking somewhere close by. The call strengthened and waned several times, sounding as though the goose was flying in circles around and around the house, perhaps lost. We looked at each other and started to laugh. It was funny, but I also remember feeling sorry for that lone bird in the darkness, hoping it would find the pond and the other geese.
When they are gone, I forget about them for a while. The holidays come along, then the new year, and our wildlife focus shifts to the battle between the squirrels and the birds at our feeders. But inside, thereโs a tiny part of me that waits.
Until one happy day in late winter or early spring when, before I can even see them, I hear that familiar clamour overhead. The advance guard has returned, and I search the skies for a sight that truly brings joy to my heart and, for me, announces the return of spring more definitely than any calendar.
I cannot imagine the rhythm of the year without our Canada Geese. Happy World Migratory Bird Day. ๐ฆ
