MaxedOutMama
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Spring Is Here
It is chilly and clammy, and I wouldn't have noticed except for the animals.
Last week I saw a pair of the Canadian geese mating in the back pond. This is a noisy and somewhat startling spectacle, and if you were a PETA type you would probably call 911 and plunge into the water to attempt to rescue the goose from death by drowning. Two days ago the gander assumed a position by the far bank of the pond, and the goose is nowhere to be seen. That means she is nesting on one of the front islands in the pond. He will continue lollygagging around as ostentatiously far from her as he can get (there's no goose on that island! Absolutely none! Just a lone gander here!) until the goslings hatch. At twilight she gets off the nest and he escorts her over to feed for about 15 minutes. We usually leave corn for them right by the bank of the pond.
As Chief No-Nag observed, it is a high price to pay for a few minutes of fun once a year. After the goslings hatch the gander hardly rests for the first couple of weeks - he's on pretty much permanent guard. Duties continue right through flight training in August, which is also an extremely noisy endeavor.
What really cracked me up this morning is that I saw the gander watching something on the bank. I went a little closer to take a look, and two turtles had climbed out of the pond for a quickie (by turtle standards). They've only been at it for a couple of hours now. Turtle romance is a slow, slow process. Even the initial stages go something like:
W e e l l
H e l l ooooooo oo ooo ooo oo
T h ee rrr ee
B a b yyyyyyy
She responds to this pickup line by preserving a thoughtful and immobile silence for about ten minutes. Wouldn't want to appear too forward, I guess. There are most definitely plenty of other male turtles in this pond.
H eeeee yyy
B iii gggg
B ooo yyy
(The males are really considerably smaller than the females)
She pushes her head a fraction further out of her shell and turns it slightly to acknowledge his presence. They contemplate matters in mutual admiring immobility.
And so it goes. After only an hour or so they decide to get down to business, and it only takes another half an hour or so to assume the position. Then they seem to take a reflective, anticipatory pause before doing anything, not that you can really tell when they start doing anything. But they must, because after about 25 - 45 minutes the male normally climbs off.
Somewhere in all this I'm sure there is an ecstatic affirmation of all that's good about life, spring, love and turtle-bonding, but exactly when this is I have not determined. Maybe when both their heads are fully extended straight up from their shells. Turtles actually have pretty long necks.
Anyway, the gander was watching for well over an hour, and he finally deserted his "no goose nesting" position and swam over to take a closer look about half an hour ago. Maybe he's having wistful thoughts about last week's ecstatic life-affirming goose moments, but maybe he's just jealous of their staying power. Goose lurve is quite quick, which is a good thing because the female's head usually ends up submerged.
But ten minutes ago I saw the gander swim away. He is now lurking sulkily at the other side of the pond, way, way off his normal station. Startled and worried, I went out to look - and realized another turtle couple had emerged from the pond next to the first! Apparently the poor gander is a prude and didn't want to find himself in the middle of a slow motion turtle orgy. There goes the neighborhood.
Last week I saw a pair of the Canadian geese mating in the back pond. This is a noisy and somewhat startling spectacle, and if you were a PETA type you would probably call 911 and plunge into the water to attempt to rescue the goose from death by drowning. Two days ago the gander assumed a position by the far bank of the pond, and the goose is nowhere to be seen. That means she is nesting on one of the front islands in the pond. He will continue lollygagging around as ostentatiously far from her as he can get (there's no goose on that island! Absolutely none! Just a lone gander here!) until the goslings hatch. At twilight she gets off the nest and he escorts her over to feed for about 15 minutes. We usually leave corn for them right by the bank of the pond.
As Chief No-Nag observed, it is a high price to pay for a few minutes of fun once a year. After the goslings hatch the gander hardly rests for the first couple of weeks - he's on pretty much permanent guard. Duties continue right through flight training in August, which is also an extremely noisy endeavor.
What really cracked me up this morning is that I saw the gander watching something on the bank. I went a little closer to take a look, and two turtles had climbed out of the pond for a quickie (by turtle standards). They've only been at it for a couple of hours now. Turtle romance is a slow, slow process. Even the initial stages go something like:
W e e l l
H e l l ooooooo oo ooo ooo oo
T h ee rrr ee
B a b yyyyyyy
She responds to this pickup line by preserving a thoughtful and immobile silence for about ten minutes. Wouldn't want to appear too forward, I guess. There are most definitely plenty of other male turtles in this pond.
H eeeee yyy
B iii gggg
B ooo yyy
(The males are really considerably smaller than the females)
She pushes her head a fraction further out of her shell and turns it slightly to acknowledge his presence. They contemplate matters in mutual admiring immobility.
And so it goes. After only an hour or so they decide to get down to business, and it only takes another half an hour or so to assume the position. Then they seem to take a reflective, anticipatory pause before doing anything, not that you can really tell when they start doing anything. But they must, because after about 25 - 45 minutes the male normally climbs off.
Somewhere in all this I'm sure there is an ecstatic affirmation of all that's good about life, spring, love and turtle-bonding, but exactly when this is I have not determined. Maybe when both their heads are fully extended straight up from their shells. Turtles actually have pretty long necks.
Anyway, the gander was watching for well over an hour, and he finally deserted his "no goose nesting" position and swam over to take a closer look about half an hour ago. Maybe he's having wistful thoughts about last week's ecstatic life-affirming goose moments, but maybe he's just jealous of their staying power. Goose lurve is quite quick, which is a good thing because the female's head usually ends up submerged.
But ten minutes ago I saw the gander swim away. He is now lurking sulkily at the other side of the pond, way, way off his normal station. Startled and worried, I went out to look - and realized another turtle couple had emerged from the pond next to the first! Apparently the poor gander is a prude and didn't want to find himself in the middle of a slow motion turtle orgy. There goes the neighborhood.
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Well, if you MUST be prudish about turtles, pretty tawdry. The final turtle count on the bank was about 15. The gander is still looking a bit squicked.
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