Hector and the Returning Canadian

Hector and the returning Canadian

I'm in Cambridge now, rehearsing a play, so I, like you, can only imagine what I'm about to relay.  It's threatening first frost up at our place in Vermont, a bit early, but everything's a bit off these days.  Sheets are at the ready to protect our garden vegetables, especially the squash and tomatoes and potato plants.  All the Canada goose families have flown away leaving Hector behind, Hector who had forged a kind of tutoring friendship with the flock's young, an honorary uncle status with the adults.  Richard and I would feel his pain, we thought it must be like that of a parent watching one's offspring go off to college.   Did he even understand?  Running below them, trumpeting out, as they flew away for good, he so earthbound, unable to fly, to follow, only their shadows on the grass below, their silhouettes against the sun above, both disappearing over the far tall pines, he left behind.  Did he feel any pain, any sadness?  Did the heartache pass away the moment they disappeared over the treetops, an immediate amnesia, and then he went to picking at his feathers, pruning and fluffing as if the moment before hadn't even happened?  How we'd impose our own stories on the scenario, looking out the window at him, then turning to one another, our lower lips shoved out in the international sign of sadness as we heaved a collective sigh.  Ah, life!   A couple nights ago, Hector had been welcomed back into the goose pen by Shmuel, something that had not been allowed for months.  Even so, every night Hector would huddle against the fencing, getting as close to the safety of the flock as possible.   

And then yesterday, one of the Canadians returned.  Alone, distressed, it squawked and paced as if  trying to convey some important message to Hector in a foreign tongue.  Hector attended to it, going wherever it went in a calm, measured fashion, trying to calm it down.  Richard's unclear what sex the Canadian is, though he feels strongly that it's one of the offspring.   Our imagined scenario is that the Canadian missed Hector and came back for him.  But now here and realizing that Hector is unable to go with him/her, it has the dilemma of deciding whether or not to stay, instinctually pining for the safety and comfort of its flock.  A pair of star-crossed lovers?  Inseparable friends?  A guide/teacher and loyal student?  There's a rich story in the making.  Well, it's been a rich story from the beginning.  Of course, last night Hector tried to enter the pen again, this time with his friend, but the young domesticated gander, head low, neck stretched, strode out of the pen's door to make it clear that Hector and "the other" were not welcome in "the inn" that night. 

To be continued.