NISQUALLY DELTA HIKE - April 19, 2006
by Pete Merrill - written on April 22, 2006

As the USF&WS brochure (available at headquarters) informs us, The Nisqually Wildlife Refuge is a place which "provides abundant opportunities for wildlife -dependent recreation." Hiking (NO JOGGING), wildlife observation and photography … in a place rich in beauty and biological diversity." How I love that bureaucratic lingo.

Nowhere in the brochure could I find any prohibition about talking to the wildlife so I expect my conversation with a goose alongside the trail didn't break any rules. But more of that later.

Most of the Walkies (exact number not recorded) made the complete circuit of the 5.5 mile Nisqually Trail. Most, that is, but not all; your scribe and his two fellow shufflers -Lillian and Betty - ventured out a mile and a half in a clockwise direction, making, upon our return, a trek of nearly three miles which is about our comfortable limit.

In this short distance we observed a goodly number of bird species and several varieties of bird watchers. Two elderly gentlemen in particular whom I took to be retired military types were in a state of moderate excitement having just spotted, through their scopes, a Yellow Throat Warbler. They told us that their bag for the day to that point was up to 29 varieties, which included the ever popular Canada Goose and the busy little American Coot or, as we old timers know them, the Western Mudhen.

We trio of intrepid stragglers completed our three mile stroll just as the more vigorous of our group were ranging in from their complete 5.5 counter-clockwise safari around the whole refuge; all of us arrived back at the starting point together. We enjoyed our lunches on the deck of the headquarters building and celebrated Lillian Evan's 87th birthday with a tasty cake provided by the ever-thoughtful Betty Graves.

Now about that goose I mentioned earlier. You're probably going to tell me that if you've seen one goose you've seen them all. I will admit that when you have a whole flock of Canada honkers around it is a mite difficult to tell one from another, but in this case things are a bit different.

On the way out of our hike last Wednesday there were a bunch of these geese lounging around on the trail, doing what geese always do when they are on a trail which is fouling the footpath. I had harsh words for one gander who was slow moving out of the way - after all, even though this whole place is set aside for the pleasure and convenience of migrating birds and various sedentary wildlife, the trails were built for people, not geese. This time of the year ganders can get pretty uppity and this old dude got a crook in his neck and acted like he was going to charge a toll for us to go through; until, that is, I told him in clear language that I had wrung the necks of better geese than him in my long career as a livestock entrepreneur and he'd better move his carcass pronto.

Geese understand straight talk and the old fellow moved off reluctantly but not before he left his mark again on the trail. That's a goose way of showing disdain; I have come to expect this kind of behavior from birds.

Anyway, when we came back down the trail, I noticed this same goose engaged in some very un-goose- like behavior. He was in close conversation with a starling, a very small black bird that would make a very small meal for a goose if geese ate starlings which they don't. They were nose to nose (or, in the case of birds, bill to bill). In order to get down to the starling's level the goose had to stretch his long neck way down, the little bird stretched his tiny neck upwards, perhaps so the great goose could hear his very small voice. Oh, how I wish those two old birdwatchers had been with me to see this! When the birds saw me watching them they broke off their conversation and the starling walked quickly away.

Knowing a little bit of the goose language from my days on the farm, I thought to engage the gander in conversation.
"What's happening here?" I inquired.
"Starling wants to know why there are so many people on the trail," replied goose.
"What did you tell him," I asked.
"I told her it's the spring," said the goose. "People come out in the spring and they get into their spring plumage just like birds. They go around trying to attract the opposite sex."

(I must mention here that both Betty and Lillian were dressed in very colorful outfits).

"That starling couldn't get it straight, " the goose said. "She kept telling me that only the male gets colorful, she was pretty sure the people we were talking about were females."
"What ya tell her?" I asked.
"Same thing I tell everybody," said goose. "People don't know squat. They get everything backwards."

Before I had time to make a cutting rejoinder to put the insolent gander in his place, I noticed the approach of the two elderly birdwatchers. The goose walked slowly away with a smug look on his face, pretending he hadn't been talking to me.

"That's the Canada Goose," said one of the gentlemen. "Branta Canadensis. Very territorial."
"Very opionated, too," I replied.
The two old fellows exchanged nervous looks and hastened toward the parking lot.

The day's hike was successful; all arrived home safe and sound. May McAllister missed the birthday party because her hiking companions had to stop to smell all the roses.

The weather was nice.