If you feel the urge, don’t be afraid to go on a wild goose chase. What do you think wild geese are for, anyway? – Will Rogers
Tonight I heard the wild goose cry,
Wingin’ north in the lonely sky.
Tried to sleep, it weren’t no use,
‘Cause I am a brother to the old wild goose.
— 1950 hit record for Frankie Laine, music and lyrics by Terry Gilkyson
Bill Crow says
In E.B. White’s “Trumpet of the Swan” there is a line I love. I wish I had the book again, so I could quote correctly. The boy in the story is being told of his native rights, and one is: The right to see geese.
Some years ago I had a similar gift of red-tailed hawks. Workmen had just cut down a huge lightning-split tulip tree in our backyard. I looked up at the new view of the sky, and saw a long line of hawks sailing in from the northeast. Right over the spot where the tree had been, they caught a thermal, circled into it and used it like an elevator to rise to a new altitude, and then each one broke out of the spiral and headed southwest, following the one ahead of him without flapping a wing. It was awe inspiring.