Somewhere, at the cell-level of their bodies, the migratration-gene was flipped to 'on' and the geese took to flight yesterday, on their long traverse to warmer climes. As my SO and I went for our daily walk, before the uber-gorging that would take place, the sky above us was filled with the sight and sound of multitudes of geese. Everywhere we turned, the birds were in motion, all headed in the same general direction. Some groups had formed their signature V formation, other groups were in the process of organization and, yet other stray geese were seen in pairs, or the occasional odd-numbered cluster. Regardless of the size of the group, the honking was continuous and cacophonous. The fowl were communicating with each other and formation-to-formation.
This would not have been a good day to fly in an airplane, for either kind of bird.
Our walk was frequently slowed, or even paused, as we took in the almost pageant-like avian production. It was as if a Broadway-show producer clapped her hands and said, "Places, everyone.", except these 'places' are locations perhaps thousands of miles away and the geese perform their instinct-driven act, internally programmed by thousands of years of heredity.
Our fascination was heightened by our observations of the 'stray' pairs of geese or the odd-numbered clusters. These laggards were always flying at a more frantic pace, straining to catch up to a flock that had, for some reason, out-paced them. Our heads were filled with imaginary goose-to-goose conversations that might have gone like this:
"Thelma, (Seems like a good name for a goose, doesn't it?) I told you we should have left five minutes sooner, but NO, you had to check your feathers one more time!"
"Well, Woodrow, if you would have helped pack last night, like I asked you to, I would have been on time for departure!"
"Oh, Sampson, we have to invite Louise to fly with us. She's just lost her mate and has no one else to travel with."
"I told you we should have left your mother at home."
And, so, on this blackest of Fridays, I leave all intrepid shoppers with this parting thought:
May all of the language you overhear, or take part in today, be only of the 'fowl' nature, and not the 'foul'. Safe shopping. I'll be here, in my bat-cave, thinking of all of you.
Ancora imparo
