Chasing Snow Geese and Finding a New Normal
Migrating snow geese stopover, Market Lake Wildlife Preserve, Idaho. By Kris Cochran
In the early spring, snow geese migrate through Idaho in such large numbers, they stuff our ponds and paddle about like fluffy, white bumper cars.
Our resident Canadian geese are patient hosts to their migrating cousins. They’ll soon have the pond to themselves for nesting and teaching the next generation to fly.
Resident Canadian geese, Market Lake Wildlife Preserve, Idaho. By Kris Cochran
Once the snow geese have fed and rested here in Eastern Idaho, they continue along their narrow corridors to their next stopover. By the first of June, they’ll reach their nesting grounds in the arctic tundra of Canada and Alaska.
I hike Market Lake Wildlife Preserve near my home every spring to wish the snow geese Godspeed on their 5,000-mile journey north. This year, my reward was more than an image of the blizzard of snow geese filling the sky.
The human animals I observed filled my heart with hope for a new normal of deeper connections within our families.
A blizzard of Snow Geese, Market Lake Wildlife Preserve, Idaho. By Kris Cochran
New rituals for a new normal
A snow goose’s distinctive, black-tipped wings, Market Lake Wildlife Preserve, Idaho. By Kris Cochran
Usually, I have our local wetlands to myself. I can wander in solitude with my camera and wait undisturbed for the best shots.
When the snow geese migrated through this spring, Market Lake was as crowded as nearby Yellowstone Park in July.
Right away, I noticed almost every group included three generations. One family set up a spotting scope for their elderly grandfather to watch the snow geese. Beaming grandmothers walked along the pond, passing binoculars to their grandchildren.
Another group handed me a cell phone and asked me to take a photo of their family. In the center, a young mother held a new baby. Their outing at Market Lake celebrated the arrival of the fourth generation.
Nearby, a merganser flew up and down the waterway with every child’s delighted squeal. When ducks are startled, they typically fly away. This fellow kept returning. I’m convinced he sensed the bond between all the beings at the pond that day.
A male merganser takes flight, Market Lake Wildlife Preserve, Idaho. By Kris Cochran
So many folks were at the preserve, I struggled to find a spot to set up my tripod. None of my images are “honey” shots, yet it was one of the sweetest afternoons I’ve had in a long, long time.
Families gathered their entire flock to celebrate the renewal of spring. No one had been left behind, and their joy was as full as the pond of snow geese.
We honor the souls we’ve lost by cherishing the ones who remain
Snow geese depart for the arctic tundra from Market Lake Wildlife Preserve, Idaho. By Kris Cochran
We are all weary of greeting new babies via FaceTime and attending Zoom funerals. Fear and anxiety have replaced the social rituals that once eased our burdens and held us together.
Yet, we owe it to the next generation to create a new normal in this uncertain world. Our children deserve a legacy greater than our collective fear and anxiety.
Where do we begin?
Perhaps by taking more time with loved ones who are forever ours and spending less time chasing things we’re only borrowing on time.
Not one of us is guaranteed another winter.
As snow geese migrate, they are seen in large numbers or not at all. When they fly, they rise and ripple as one, like a favorite quilt unfurled with hope toward tomorrow.
It’s time to lift each other’s wings and teach our young to fly together.
Thanks for walking with me,
Kris
