Fowl play FortWhyte’s Sunset Goose Flights a chance to see often-menacing birds at their most graceful By: AV Kitching Posted: 7:00 PM CDT Thursday, Oct. 13, 2022

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This article was published 12/10/2022 (707 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

In England, in the area I used to live, Canada geese were barely tolerated. They were considered rowdy; their strutting waddles and arrogant posturing had taken over a small park popular with young children. The gaggle seemed to relish terrorizing these youngsters as they toddled by.

Dare to venture too close and out those necks would stretch, complete with sibilant hisses and menacing wings. Things got so bad council authorities considered elevating their status from mere inconvenience to the more serious “nuisance.” Forms were sent out, residents urged to tick boxes and lodge official complaints. At one point there was talk of a consultation with the Royal Society of Birds (RSPB).

I do not know what came of it all. By the time the situation worsened, I was already here. I had come to roost at the home of the goose.

There are at least six kinds of geese in Manitoba. The large Canada geese (branta canadensis) are as scary as I remember, often spreading out their wings and stalking me during my lake runs. This aggressive behaviour, coupled with their predilection for disproportionately large droppings, would cause me to avoid certain stretches of the path, veering towards the road while skipping over slimy goose muck.

So it was with a deep sense of trepidation that I arrived to witness the annual goose flight event at FortWhyte Alive, the 660-acre gem right on our doorstep.

Come late September as the daylight hours dwindle, Sunset Goose Flights, which have been running for 30 years here, kick off.

The geese usually come in from the fields as the sun descends, traditionally around the time of year when summer slides into autumn and sticky heat gives way to a crisp chill. Flocks keep swooping in up to 30 minutes after the sunset, but can continue later into the evening, too.

This year the migrating geese arrived early, Waverley Dovey, communications coordinator at FortWhyte Alive, tells me.

“FortWhyte gets around 15,000 geese during fall migration,” Dovey says.

“Migration peaks here in the first two weeks of October, but can vary greatly from night to night and year to year based on weather. A long, warm fall means resources like food and open water remain available to the geese, so they aren’t forced south as quickly.”

On the day we are there the numbers seem small and my child, full of the fidgets, wanders off with her father to explore the grounds whilst Free Press photographer Mikaela MacKenzie and I remain with the droves gathered on the terrace of Richardson Interpretive Centre, between Lake Devonian and Elliot Lake.

Bird watchers, wrapped up in blankets, their hands grasping thermal mugs of hot drinks, train their binoculars on the larger Lake Devonian, where the geese are expected to land.

The smoky smell of fried onions from a nearby food truck lingers in the air as children jostle about on crunchy autumn leaves. Under that noise the thwap-thwap-thunk of hefty axes hit their target as waiting visitors while away their time by participating in a supervised throwing game.

Yet more nature enthusiasts are indulging in a $60-a-pop, three-course feast courtesy of Loaf and Honey (and no, there is no roast goose on the menu: I checked).

As the hour approaches, the arrival of the geese is preceded by the raucous cawing of boisterous and bold gulls swooping over the lake. The skies above fill with their chatter and my daughter, who has wandered back, wonders who they are talking about. She’s not wrong; they do sound like gossips, each shrill caw met with something that rings suspiciously like laughter — although I cannot say for sure, as I do not speak bird.

The opening act calms down as each gull finds its spot on the placid lake.

Cormorants, stalking the trees, dark shadows on skeletal branches mimicking leaves, watch unperturbed.

Everything is still as the sun continues its descent.

The crowd sit up a little straighter.

And then, in drips and drabs, the geese arrive, wings forming a V in the swiftly darkening skies. In flight they are majestic, the ungainly waddle banished to memory. Groups of seven, in their famous formation, glide across the sky before coming in to gracefully land on the lake.

As they approach, the gulls squawk indignantly, whooshing away as each new goose formation displaces them from their hard-won spots on the lake.

The air smells of burnt sugar and the sun is now on the other side of the world, leaving behind faint streaks of red in the clouds.

Mikaela and I linger a few feet away from a cordoned-off area, wallowing in the beauty of it all. We are hoping for more geese to arrive, but things seemed to have quieted down for the night.

Volunteer Gary Brown, who has been at FortWhyte for six years, gently ushers us back to safer ground. “The darker it gets, the more come in,” he explains when I ask him why there are so few here today. “We try to get them to keep to a schedule, but they do whatever they want.”

He tells us the geese will keep coming as long as they can see where the water is. As soon as the sky turns pitch black, the flights come a natural end.

Brown is just one of the nature reserve’s 320 active volunteers. Described as the “core of FortWhyte,” the volunteers contributed a total of 14,199 hours of service last year. This year they have already logged 16,858 hours and counting.

“We’re always recruiting volunteers and right now are in need of school program leaders; it’s great for retired teachers or anyone who wants to share their time with kids, birding volunteers and cross-country ski leaders,” says Nicole Griffo, manager of volunteer resources.

“We provide training for everything. Volunteers don’t need to be experts; they just need to be willing to help. We do everything we can to find or even create roles, so each volunteer is doing something they love at FortWhyte,” she says.

My child, with all the insouciance her six-year-old self could muster, had proclaimed she was bored and wandered off once again. I find her busy at a craft table, where a group of volunteers are teaching children how to make things.

She is rapt, her attention captured as she learns how to make a turtle from popsicle sticks and yarn. Other volunteers are inside the Richardson Interpretive Centre, telling children about the wildlife in the area and patiently answering the tirade of questions showered upon them.

The centre houses a mini aquarium, an impressive collection of taxidermied animals (including an imposing bison which dominates the room), a living hive complete with honeycomb and a number of glass cases displaying everything from local snakes to layers of prairie soil to miniature dioramas of farmlands.

It’s gone past 7 p.m. on a Friday evening and the place is heaving, every child reluctant to leave the welcoming warmth, not just of the building itself but of the people who gladly give their time to the place.

Outside, the full moon casts its cold light on the forest. We shiver as we tramp back into the car. “When do you think we can come back again?” my child says, clutching her stick-and-yarn-turtle. “I really like it here.”

av.kitching@freepress.mb.ca

 

Sunset Goose Flights at FortWhyte Alive (1961 McCreary Rd.) take place Wednesday through Sunday from 5:30-8:00 p.m. until Oct. 23; entry is $5 per person. Goose Flight Feast prices vary and come at an additional cost, depending on the feast provider. Beyond Sunset Goose Flights, FortWhyte Alive is open year-round from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Visit fortwhyte.org for an updated calendar of events.