Evening walks in south Texas are pleasant this time of year. The sun drops quickly and the fresh air turns crisp but, if you keep a brisk pace, you'll stay warm, even in short sleeves. Yesterday I made my way around the neighborhood, taking in the autumn treasures, and could sense a peaceful, gentler spirit settling in; the kind that makes you feel thankful for the small blessings of life, and creates in you a desire to give something back. We usually call it the holiday spirit and it's the kind that miracles are born of.
A few golden leaves crunched beneath my steps and southbound geese honked overhead. The sky faded to gray and a couple of ambitious neighbors displayed early Christmas lights. As I listened to the call of the geese, thoughts of the coming winter and its holidays came to mind, winter with its time of slowing down a bit, staying inside and curling up with a good book. I watched them moving easily, high above me in their well-known V formation. They looked so strong and graceful and I remembered reading that, as each goose flaps his wings, it creates an "uplift" for the one behind, adding 71% more flying range than if they flew alone. When the lead goose tires, he will fall back to the end and another will take a turn in the lead. They're not stupid. They know the V formation is the most efficient way for them to travel.
It's remarkable that if one goose is sick or wounded and falls out of flight, two others will always follow, staying with it to help and protect it until it is either able to fly again or dies. They then will catch up to their flock or wait to join another formation. Geese also mate for life and have been seen protecting a downed mate with a sheltering wing and refusing to leave, showing obvious signs of grief. I believe they, as well as all animals, share the same breath of life, and from the same source, that we do, along with certain qualities that are inherent in that breath of life, qualities that go beyond instinct or training. No, they're not stupid. Neither are ducks, chickens or turkeys.
I once had a pet chicken. No matter where in the yard he was, Toppy would come running as soon as he saw me come out the door, kicking his little feet out behind him. That little black chicken followed me everywhere, even into the house many times. He would sit on my knee, tilt his head, looking me right in the eye and "tuck, tuck, tuck" his feelings to me. He had a desire to communicate and interact with me and the feeling was mutual.
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