One day I was on such a mission when about eight miles up the river from my dock I saw something unusual, not far from the bank. I saw splashing and heard the sound of some critter in distress. As I got closer I could see that it was a very large goose. I couldn't tell what was wrong at first but upon closer inspection I could see that the goose had apparently gotten his big feet tangled in a trotline. A trotline is an anchored line with many hooks and bait, attached to a float. Fishermen set these trotlines, then check them once or twice a day to see if they have caught any fish. Well, this big goose got tangled in one and was thrashing around and flapping his wings, looking rather precarious with that milk jug float hanging from his long neck. This fellow needed help. He was getting very tired and I was afraid he might break a wing with all that flapping and thrashing.

I couldn't get my boat too close for fear of hitting him, so I pulled the boat over to the bank just upriver, put on my life preserver, got out my pocket knife and jumped in. I swam back to the goose to try to cut the lines that held him. He had no trust in me and warned me with some pretty ferocious hisses that I should stay back. I was tempted to abide by his wishes but my determination to set him free was greater than fear of a few pecks on the head. There I was, circling this big goose, looking for a chance to get close and all the while he was circling to face me. It was like two wrestlers in a ring ready to bout. At least his attention toward me caused him to stop struggling with the lines, which was good, but the real struggle was about to begin.

I was afraid to dive down to cut the cord because the line was now wrapped around him and his feet, along with a few hooks that seemed to be attached to him. If I cut him loose he might then be able to get away from me, but still have all that attached to him, which could be very bad. No, I had to get hold of him and hang on while I cut him loose so that I could make sure it was all off, or if he was hurt I would try to take him somewhere for medical help. I saw my chance and lunged for him. Now I've never wrestled a goose before but can say without a doubt that even tangled in fish line he was a formidable opponent, plus he was in his element, as I am basically a land creature. At first I had a bear hug around his torso which kept his wings from flapping but then came those hard pecks on the face that I was expecting, forcing me to hold on with only one arm while protecting myself with the other. With that he had one wing free. I do believe that being slapped with that big wet wing hurt worse than the bites. There was no way I was going to be able to hold him like this and at the same time get my knife from my pocket to try to cut the lines off and pull out the hooks. I had to go to plan B.

It has been my experience with wild animals that if you show your dominance and can constrain them long enough; they will submit and quiet down. I was hoping this applied to geese. With one swift motion I cut the main line that went to the anchor, while keeping my grip on the goose. I then held him tightly while making my way to the riverbank, setting the stage for round two. I was able to reach the muddy bank, then crawl out of the water with the goose held tightly. Then we wrestled some more and I found that he could put up just as good a fight on land. I admit that I have fantasized a time or two about mud wrestling, but not with an angry goose. After rolling around in the mud for a while I was finally able to get a good bear hug on him and at the same time get hold of his hammering beak. Then I just lay there in the mud and held him tightly for what seemed like a very long time. I could feel him begin to relax so I tested the situation by letting loose just a little to see if the fight was gone in him. This test failed a couple of times but finally I could tell that he had submitted. He either knew that he could not beat or get away from this big human beast, or maybe he finally sensed that I was there to help. In any event, he stopped fighting.

I slowly loosened my grip and carefully begin cutting the tangled lines. He watched and gave what I perceived as a couple of approval honks. I then took the risk of pulling one of the hooks out that was snagged on his leg. Fortunately the hooks were not imbedded deep so the barbs of the hooks were not grabbing. He continued to calmly watch. I had to unwrap nylon line from around the webbing on his feet. He watched and made more friendly sounding honks. Then I started checking him from top to bottom to see if he appeared to be hurt, especially his wings. He seemed to be all right and was cooperating with the inspection. When my work was done I sat back and waited for the goose to go back in the river or fly off. There we sat the goose and I, caked in mud from head to foot. Knowing that geese are pretty smart, I figured that he might need to wash off all that mud before trying to fly, and so he finally did. He slipped into the water and began thrashing around, not because he was in trouble like before but because he really needed a bath, and so did I. I slipped back into the river and there we were, bathing together and even carrying on a conversation.

I swam back to my boat, climbed aboard to nurse my wounds, and waited to see the goose fly away. I didn't know geese were so meticulous about bathing because he continued to wash himself for a very long time, but I patiently waited. I wanted to make sure he could fly before leaving him. He finally gave me a few friendly honks, and lifted off. I was very pleased. He circled a couple of times above me, and then headed north. Feeling very good about the whole event I started up my boat and headed south toward home. I now needed some care and recovery time after all that. That night I went to sleep thinking about that big beautiful goose and hoped that I would someday see him again, under different circumstances. I have helped many animals in trouble but this one was special. I believe he was thanking me when he circled above me and honked before flying off.

The next morning I set aside time to go to my dock and clean up my boat. I hooked the  long length of hoses from the house and dragged them down the sloping bank to the dock. Just as I turned to go back up to turn the water on I heard something very familiar. A honk? I knew that honk! Yes, it was the goose that I had saved the day before, swimming around my dock as if saying "good morning."  I was delighted that he came to visit me. He didn't stay long but came visiting again the next day, this time staying longer. Each day I was there the goose would show up and eventually came into the yard. The goose eventually switched his routine and was at my place most of the time and would occasionally leave to visit elsewhere. Years have passed and he is still there. Something very special happened during that rescue. I can't explain it but a strong bond developed between man and goose. We are friends for life. Even though he decided to make my dock his home, I don't claim him as being mine. He is not my pet. He is my friend! He is free to come and go as he pleases and I do not feed him, except for an occasional treat of wheat bread. I do not want him to become  dependent on me, as I respect his freedom the same as I do of all wild animals.

This is a true story by author, Jerry M. Hay

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