Yesterday afternoon Jackie appeared at my den door holding what we both thought, at first glance, was a baby duck.  Since she has forbidden me to get baby ducks or chickens ever again while we share the same property (the chickens invaded her ornamental gardens and dug up the soil, and the ducks pooped on her patio), I knew right away that this wasn’t a creature she had elected to buy for me!

 

She said, “I saw something moving outside my sliding glass window, with Chari watching it closely, and … here it is.”

 

I considered it mighty magnanimous of her to rescue what she believed to be a baby duckling, and gladly accepted the little being.

 

But as soon as I had it in my hands, I said, “Uh, I don’t think this is a duck. I think it’s a Canadian goose.”

 

That had to make her super happy… NOT!  She is always yelling at the Canadian geese that land in our back yard,  telling them, “Go poop in someone else’s yard!”

 

I looked up baby Canadian geese on the Internet and sure enough, it’s a Canadian goose

 

We took it back outside and looked all over the property hoping to find a nest, or an upset mama goose, but found nothing. So I brought it back inside, plopped it into a bird cage, and drove to Winco to get duck food and some pelleted substrate for the wading pool and bird cage.

 

Then I brought everything indoors to my den and set up a nursery for the gosling.

 

The gosling — I’m going to make an executive decision here and call this being a “her” so I don’t have to keep referring to her as an “it — was frantic in the bird cage, peeping an cheeping like crazy, so I took her back out and cuddled her. She settled right in and just occasionally sent out little trills, so I’m naming her Triller.

 

I plan to raise her until she is older, with downy grey fluff, and then Lisa and I will take her to Waughop Lake and see if one of the Canadian geese families will adopt her. If not, I’m sure she will come right back to me (she has imprinted on me now) so I can bring her back home and raise her in the goat pasture until she is old enough to catch the call of the wild and fly out with a flock of the geese that fly overhead here several times a day.

 

FIRST NIGHT

 

All last night, Triller slept on my tummy,  chest, or behind my right ear (I slept on a recliner in the front room to be able to hold her),  with six or seven sessions of eating and drinking (and only one of pooping, luckily!) so she’s still as robust looking as she was the minute she arrived.

 

When Charli jumped up on the recliner to join us for most of the night, Triller waddled right on over to her and settled in against her as if she has been Charli’s friend (or baby) her whole life (and guessing her age, that’s likely pretty darned true!). Charli is a wonderful “mama goose”.

 

 

Right now she is on my shoulder against the back of my chair trilling away while she dozes off and on. When I try to put her down in the wading pool area, she freaks and jumps out, wanting to be with me.  This cannot continue, as she is going to outgrow the basket, bird cage and wading pool likely within the month, and I have a 2.5month dog-sitting duty coming up, so I will have to make some outdoor arrangements for her, probably in the old hen house during the night and in the goat yard or where the mower is stored during the day…  I’ll think of something.  I just wish we had found two goslings so she has a buddy when she goes solo!  Maybe Charli will agree to stay with her…  We’ll see!

 

Sad update:  My darling gosling died yesterday afternoon. I’m crushed. 

 

I left her to visit a friend in the ICU and when I got back, she was declining rapidly. I had left her in a bird cage with a tiny few ounces of water and some food, and she had upended the water and gotten a little wet on her belly. When I got back, she wasn’t her usual self, cheeping to jump out, and when I  lifted her out, I noticed she wasn’t walking on one leg. I suspected she caught it on one of the tiny 1/4″ bars while trying to get out and had wrenched it, because it didn’t feel or look broken; both legs felt the same right up into her body.

I cradled her all day long to keep her warm and cozy until just about 5 p.m., but her chirping declined during the day and her head began to droop. At some point, she passed away without a struggle.

Jackie told me after she died that when she had picked her up, she noticed she was limping a little on one leg (she didn’t mention that at the time, and I never noticed it at all, but then I had her in my arms or on my chest most of the time, so she never went far!) but when I got her in my hands, I looked carefully for any damage she might have sustained, and didn’t see anything at all, so I assumed she was fine. But maybe she wasn’t, and it just took a few days to manifest in the way it finally did…

She experienced three days of non-stop, in-my-arms-or-on-my-shoulder love and care, so at least I gave her short life everything I had to give.  I loved her so!  I buried her in the goat pasture, and cried when I did it.

We never know how wildlife rescues are going to end, but most of mine ended spectacularly well, so this has been a difficult blow to me. I miss her trills!  I keep imagining them.

And then this morning, I spotted a baby possum out and about in my goat’s pasture, so baby wildlife goes on, and knowing that cheers me.

I know there are “too many” Canadian geese, according to some people, but today there is one less, and I miss her horribly. She was a treasure…