Gooseport, PA

This is a recent picture of Gooseport, PA, a tiny haven in my Appalachian back yard for the two geese that live here year round.

It's also a place for summering ducks, wood ducks, egrets, herons, and king fishers, as well as the usual gathering of smaller song birds.

You won't find it on any map and maybe that's a good thing. I created it. But it's not mine. It belongs to the wild birds that live and summer here. And that makes me very protective of this little waterfront town.

Unlike the readership I never encountered as an independent author, the full and part-time residents of Gooseport, PA make me feel like I'm still living a full life, as the author of a different kind of creation, for followers of a very different breed.

At long last, I have finally been allowed to make a positive difference in the world. It's a wonderful feeling that you can't beat with a stick.

Author's Note 8-31-12: Our two geese "pals" are dead now. Broken Wing was killed in February 2008 by a nocturnal predator and I found Big Mouth dead one morning in September 2011. He probably died because there's too much sewage in our pond the past several years, running off people's overflowing septic tanks above us, right through our yard and into the pond. The ducks don't summer here anymore and neither do King Fishers or egrets or Blue Herons or other geese. I don't mow Gooseport anymore and I took the sign down in September 2011. I also removed the cracked-corn trough with the shingled roof (The New Gooseport Lunch Counter) in September 2011 because I don't want the birds to drink this pond water. Hell nobody likes sewage. Not even barn swallows.

When Chores Are Pleasures

There's a little spot of yard behind my garage that I named Gooseport, PA several years ago because of the two male Canada geese who used to live there all year long. The one I called Broken Wing was killed earlier this year by some kind of nocturnal predator and I only have one goose left now. His name is Big Mouth. But we call him "Mayor" now, the Mayor of Gooseport, PA.

Mayor (see pic) is eight years old and shares the summer pond with several ducks and a two-year-old female Canada goose I named Dipper (because she’s always dipping upside down in the water for food, more than the other goose, it seems). She left for parts unknown a week ago before I had a chance to snap her picture.

I feed Mayor cracked corn every day, white bread about twice a week and lawn grass, which I pick and put in an old Clementine box, about once a week also. His favorite meal is Italian bread without the crust.

Mayor paces impatiently at the gate when he hears me remove the metal lid from the corn barrel in the garage. Sometimes he almost pushes me out of the way as I fill the trough. But not lately. He misses both Broken-Wing and Dipper. I hope Dipper comes back before fall.

One of my morning chores is to trudge to the garage for cracked corn for Mayor and birdseed for the many wrens, sparrows, chickadees, cardinals, blue jays, black birds, etc. who know that, regardless of the weather, they’ll have fresh feed here to start the day.

Around this house animals are not referred to as “this” or “that” but as “who” and “whom”. And feeding them each morning never was much of a chore. In fact, it’s one of life’s little pleasures.