What lessons have you learned from birds?  This is a valid question that should be asked of every birder.

I, myself, am not an avid birder, but have spent a lifetime watching and learning from birds.  I have been interested, for instance, to have observed changes in local avian populations and their habits.

Canada geese have been summer residents of my eastern Oregon area forever.  Formerly, in proper goose fashion, they would gather in great flocks and head south for the winter.  For the past three or so decades, however, ever-increasing groups have neglected to leave.  They overwinter in the area.  Is this because of more open water than was formerly available?

In the 1990s a pair of Canada geese took up residence on the pond by my house.  They were more gentle than wild.  I could tell them apart from every other goose because as I circled the pond, they would merely swim out of my way rather than fly away.  I named them Amy and Shawn.

Amy had a nest somewhere over in the nearby woods.  While she sat on her eggs Shawn patiently waited on the pond.  Once a day Amy would pull down over her eggs to cover and protect them, and would fly honking to the pond to get a drink and a bite to eat.  Shawn was waiting for her to thus announce her imminent arrival.  He would immediately take to the air to meet her.  Canada geese mate for life, and it was touching to see how glad Amy and Shawn were to see one another.

For the first several years Amy and Shawn never managed to raise a gosling.  I wondered why.  One day when Amy came winging in to the pond I went over to the woods, selected a hidden place to sit, and waited for her to return.  I knew the general area of her nest, but had never been able to locate it.

Shawn always accompanied Amy back to the nest after she'd had her drink and quick snack.  Presently they came winging in, and landed in the clearing near me.  They looked all about.  After several minutes, sensing no danger, Amy lifted into the air and landed in the top of a broken-off, 30-foot-tall cottonwood snag.

I'd finally located her nest!  I also immediately understood why she had never been able to hatch a brood.  Raccoons had obviously climbed up and had eaten her eggs.

I went to town, purchased a wide piece of tin, nailed it to the tree so that it completely encircled the trunk, and was immensely pleased when Amy and Shawn showed up at the pond a couple of weeks later with six fluffy, yellow goslings.

A winter or two later the cottonwood snag blew down.  I turned a tire inside out, attached a plywood floor, and nailed it on top of an eight-foot-tall post beside the pond.  I added some straw, and waited for Amy and Shawn to return from wherever they went for the winter.  Finding that her old nesting site was gone, Amy went looking for a new one.  I was watching as she discovered my nest box.  She hovered over it, circled it, looked at it from every angle, and finally landed in it.  She examined it thoroughly, and then sat down.  It fit.  I could see her happily thinking, "This is just right!"

Amy and Shawn hatched many broods in that nest.  I was watching and filming each year when the goslings hatched.  When all of the eggs had hatched, and after the day had warmed a little, Amy would fly down to the base of the post and join Shawn who was already aware of the hatching, and who was anxiously awaiting the moment when he could see his children for the first time.  He reminded me of my own impending fatherhood as I toed the "do not cross" line outside the door of the delivery room as our first child was being born.

At the base of the post Amy and Shawn stretched their necks up toward the nest and began talking to the babies, urging them to jump.  One by one the goslings jumped.  They came down with their feet pointed up, and landed on their backs.  Imagine having to do that from the top of a 30-foot snag!  Perhaps raccoons weren't the only reason for the poor survival rate of  previous nesting attempts.  The babies immediately scrambled to their feet and joined their parents.  Somehow Amy and Shawn knew when all of their babies were out of the nest.  I had the sensation that they knew how to count.  Shawn led the way to the pond.  The children followed, Amy brought up the rear, and they swam away in perfect order without any swimming lessons.

The goose family would only stay on my little pond for a week.  Amy and Shawn then shepherded their family a mile overland to a larger pond where they joined other goose families.

My pond was Shawn's pond.  Generally speaking no other goose was allowed to even think about landing on Shawn's pond.  He chased intruders away.  Some geese, however, were exceptions.  I suspected that the geese who were allowed to stay were Shawn's children.  I also theorize that when we see small flocks of geese, that they are all family members.  Amy and Shawn surely stayed together all year, and probably kept their children with them.  Why would they separate, unless seeking mates of their own?

One spring Amy and Shawn arrived at the pond with 15 other geese.  The presence of the other geese didn't bother Shawn at all.  I'd bet they were all his children, and maybe grandchildren, too.  It would be interesting to capture and band a little goose family and study how their family relationships play out.  I think that we'd find that Canada geese are very family oriented.

It should give one pause to think of shooting one.  It's not hard to imagine that doing so would bring grief to the surviving family members.