I'll Explain Everything to the Geese

Last winter I listened to the album High Violet by the National almost every day. It fit the cold weather, the quiet that winter engenders. And I spent most of the winter thinking that, in the song "Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks," the geeks were geese—despite the song title. I thought the singer was saying, “I’ll explain everything to the geese.” It follows “swans are a swimmin.” It makes sense. I’d walk around the North Pond, look at the geese and wonder where to start, what to explain first. A wise teen explained everything to me: It’s the geeks not the geese.

Still, I think of that song lyric when I watch the Canada geese. They’re a hardy bird, wintering in Chicago. They could probably explain a lot to me. Lately they don’t dominate the ponds in Lincoln Park. The migrating birds are descending.

At the South Pond when I went on the bitterly cold first day of Spring, there weren’t any of the songbirds that have arrived at the North Pond. But the water was more populated. Different species of ducks swam in the water. A noisy group of Canada geese had taken over the island. I wondered if their honking had something to do with courtship. Or, had courtship finished and was it the sound of mothers worried about their eggs? Perhaps it had nothing to do with mating, and it was everyday alarm over a predator.

The black-crowned night herons also stood along the island’s shoreline. They’d come down from the tree. With their necks hunched and their beaks pointed down, they looked grumpy and forlorn. When I search for photos on the web, I can see their necks aren’t always hunched. They’re capable of looking regal; they have long necks. On this day, I’d imagine the cold kept them from stretching out, kept their heads hanging low.

Roof of the education pavilion

There’s still no action in the pond grass. Some bits of ice clung to the shoreline, creating a lacy, bubbly border between the water and the land. Were the fish still hovering at the bottom, or had they become more active in recent weeks? If their bodies react to air temperature, they must still be in winter mode. Do the fish wake when the insects wake, or do they move independently?

The human overseers of the pond were visible, though not actually present. Small wood birdfeeders had been nailed to several trees, so even if the insects are still hibernating the migrating birds can find food.

The unfortunately named People’s Gas Education Pavilion, without a cover of snow, looked more inviting. I never noticed the wood, or whatever pressed recycled material the pavilion is made from, has an eggshell finish that catches the sunlight so instead of looking white, it’s more pink and blue. The panes of Plexiglass that form the roof refract sunlight, making a pattern of rainbow colors inside. In the white and gray wash of earlier weeks, it looked like a crude interloper on the shore. In the sun it’s pretty. The structure, open on both ends, provides a frame for the city skyline in the distance. In the warm months, someone will stand in there and explain everything to some students or potential donors to the zoo. The geese will hold on to their secrets.