The Mill House Geese
By MARION PICK
G' EESE may daunt a nervous person. They rush forward , with necks outstretched ; they surge around one hissing and pecking, and there is a general view that they may be vicious, although I have never heard of anyone being done to death, or even really .hurt, by geese. Undoubtedly they are lovely birds, splendidly disciplined and interesting to watch. After spending two months at the Mill House in 1940 I found myself extremely fond of geese. Peter and Paul were purchased in 1934 as husband and wife, but they turned out to be son and father ; so father was eaten and son was provided with two wives, Emmy, an Emden goose, and another, who was later replaced by Rhoda, a Toulouse goose. Peter himself was a pure Roman, dazzlingly white, with very blue eyes. They lived in a little hut at the end of the by-lane which led to the Mill House, and acted as watch-dogs for the larm, so that at night a gabble from the goose-house indicated foreigners in the neighbourhood. There were different warnings for different troubles—an outsider, a fox or a domestic accident. The goose- house had glass windows, through which Peter and his wives could see what was going on outside.
Now Emmy was a good wife and brought up a good family year after year, whereas Rhoda was a wayward bird, jealous, deserting her own eggs and trying to steal Emmy's, with the result that only twice did she rear a family to goslinghood,- ,stern measures being taken each time, the second time by German prisoners of war. Although the nests were set diagonally opposite one another in the goose-house, Rhoda worked steadily across until she was in a position to rob Emmy by putting her bill underneath Emmy and rolling an egg out, with catastrophes to both families. However, Emmy was a good mother, and, on the whole, managed to sit tight on her eggs, with the result that the spring saga, which begins on St. Valentine's Day, usually ended with the hatching out of a dozen goslings. As soon as this happened, up rose Rhoda and claimed the whole clutch ; then, led by Peter, the newly hatched family was required to plunge straight into the mill-stream, and this At a time of year when it was usually in spate. Next the family proceeded to the farmhouse door, where Peter knocked with his beak to attract attention, and then his family was proudly shown to all—gabble, gabble. A great moment! After this introduction the family roamed the farm, even Rhoda taking her share of the watching, for watch was always kept by one of the three adults. Rhoda's eggs some- times came to good"under hen foster-mothers, but, alas, poor orphans, .they had to be sold.
Strict discipline was maintained. Peter decided when a move was to be made from one part of the farm to another, and then a neat purposeful procession would be seen on the march, a wife bringing up the rear. Peter kept stragglers in order with his beak. A defective gosling was driven out of the family to starve and die, poor little fellow. The family was ordered to bathe roughly every two hours. The proceeding had quite a ritual look, the youngsters being kept in the middle of the group with the adults on the periphery. All were groomed to perfection. The children soon looked nearly as big as their parents, and were of all blends of grey and white, exceedingly beautiful. It was very remarkable that Peter knew which were the Mill House fields, and he rarely trespassed. It was he who decided when the family should get up and when go to bed. The Govern- ment might decree Double Summer Time, but that was just the Government's misunderstanding of geese. My brother and his wife had to sit up until 11 p.m. D.S.T. to await Peter's ruling that it was time to lead the family to the goose-house and be locked up for the night. One night I looked in to see in what order they slept. There was Peter, sentinel at the middle of the near-end of the house ; beyond him were two neat lines of goslings roosting by the walls, and at the' further ends of these lines the wives kept guard. During the summer the geese Made their living from the pastures. They had their fancies as regards delicacies. They enjoyed a kind of buttercup corm, and would tug the stems with their bills until the corm came up. The youngsters were not so expert as their elders, and could be seen sitting down suddenly backwards when the stems broke. The geese knew to a day when hazel-nuts would be ripe, and a tour would be made of all the nut-bushes on the farm, where they could be observed nibbling with their bills until the nuts were cracked, when out they spat the shells.
In the period before corn was rationed so stringently, it was one of the pleasures of life to give the geese good measure. To this day one of the happiest recollections I have of the farm is of standing on the terrace calling, "Peter, Peter," and seeing the whole gaggle come rushing towards me, flapping their Nings with eagerness. Then they would cluster round me, rubbing my legs, eating and obviously being friendly and gentle, so that I lost all fear of geese and enjoyed the pleasure of tpe moment. They knew my voice at any distance, and I heard that, after I went away, they came up to the terrace and cried for me.
It must be owned that sometimes it is well that geese appear intimidating. The Mill House land was beset with footpaths, all far too clearly labelled, and ramblers could be seen damaging gates by climbing them instead of by opening and shutting them in a civilised way, or gates would be opened and left open. When I was working in the fields it was with some satisfaction that I noticed that unruly walkers were. afraid of geese, and that if the gaggle was patrolling a footpath the walkers would turn back.
There is a capacity for reasoning and organisation among some creatures that commands respect. I remember one incident very well. The Mill House is situated on an island below the mill- race and reached by crossing one or other of half a dozen narrow plank bridges, iron railings further protecting the house and its surrounding flower-garden from the farmyard. The geese were shooed out of the garden, it being out of bounds for them, and they knew it. One Saturday afternoon my brother and his wife were out. I was tired and had gone upstairs to rest, so the farm seemed deserted. Presently, below me, I heard a low gabble- gabble. I looked out of the window, and saw the whole gaggle having an enjoyable turn-up of the flower-beds. I said, "Peter, you know this is not allowed." Peter looked completely .taken aback and thoroughly disconcerted. He had seen the others go out and forgotten me. He said, " Gabble-gabble " in a very subdued tone, and the whole gaggle immediately progressed solemnly back along the nearest plank bridge to the farmyard.
Afterwards, when spending a day with my brother and his - wife at Michaelmas, I used to feel a pang of remorse on hearing that the finest gosling of the year had been sacrificed for the feast, although to provide feasts is the fore-ordained fate of goslings.
After many happy years, on a calamitous day, poor Emmy died while bathing. Then the farm was sold and Peter and Rhoda given to a kind home ; but at Christmas, 1949, I heard that Peter was no more and that, for an old bird, he had proved surprisingly tender. One observes that the hen is domesticated but that she is hardly tame ; it is truly said that one can't get close to the hen. Naturally it takes time and patience to get on terms with geese, and it is true that young ganders are inclined to be uppish ; but I believe that one can get close to geese, and that they can be friendly and lovable. I 'am glad to have known the Mill House geese, and for their spirits I say, "May they rest in peace."
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