When I was a child in Pennsylvania, I
remember being rushed outside on a spring day at the sound of the
honking of Canada Geese flying over our house. I recall only
fleeting glimpses of those impressive flying “V's” of wild geese
heading north, but the seed of a passion for nature observation was
planted. I acquired an insatiable curiosity, a great desire to
explore and to learn. It blossomed into an addiction to birdwatching
that has pushed me into places I might not have otherwise gone. It
has meant distinguishing species observing both similarities and
differences in order to categorize and list. And the categorizing
and listing can easily seem to go on, world without end, amen.
I have since moved from Pennsylvania,
and the Canada Geese have moved in. But not just there, they have
moved in to many places where they had not been before. Anyone who
has tossed bread on the shore of a pond where ducks and geese have
come to expect the handout will know that the wild geese are somewhat
less wild now. It would be nice to think that they are more accepting
of our species, but it seems to be a wary standoff in which they have
their way with what we have created that they find attractive until
we go to war with them; think golf courses. It is a classic case of
human development inadvertently benefiting another species which then
is seen as a pest. It is the story of numerous “pest” species
from Norway Rats to House Sparrows. In the case of Canada Geese, we
have created so many fields (such as golf courses) that attract them
that some of them have simply moved in and now no longer migrate.
Another species that has expanded its
range in recent decades is the Northern Mockingbird. Ironically, it
now lives up to its name having been previously limited to the
southern United States (but north of South America, and thus the
name). They are master mimics primarily of, but not limited to,
other birds species. It is not clear what value such imitation
serves for them but when they insistently mimic sounds that we have
created, like cell phone rings and car alarms, they appear to be
living up to the other part of their names as they seem to mock us.
Even though they clearly spend enough time near humans to learn our
odd sounds, they don't seem all that interested in the food we offer
in our feeders. They come near, but they remain aloof, they are still
too wild to be part of our plans.
Four days in North Carolina at the Wild
Goose Festival confirmed that Carolina Wrens are aptly named as they
are indeed abundant in the Carolinas. In a reversal of Sherman's
March, these little southerns have been advancing northward one suet
cake at a time. Northern hospitality seems to suit them well.
This bird that just two decades ago set
off the rare bird alerts in Massachusetts now nests in every
community in the state. This bird is quite comfortable in close
quarters with humans, gratefully accepting what we can offer to
assist them.
To varying degrees, these three species
have exchanged some degree of wildness to be in proximity to us.
Canada Geese gave up enough to become squatters in spaces we intend
for other use. Carolina Wrens seem willing to become nearly
domesticated in their quest to expand their range into more places
where humans live. And Mockingbirds seem only somewhat tolerant of
our presence in places they want to be, in the process mocking us by
protesting our noise pollution by reflecting it back at us. Yet none
of these species have retreated from us, even though that may be a
wiser direction than choosing to come to us. Canada Geese do still
migrate, fueling our wanderlust and imagination as we watch them plow
the skies to seasonally desirable destinations. Carolina Wrens teach
us that a tiny thing can have a huge and melodious voice, inspiring
us to pause and listen. Mockingbirds bring us the gift of far away
places as they bring back songs from the far flung places they visit.
But what can we do with such wild
gifts? These wild things come near but don't stay near. These wild
things are attracted to us and attract us. These wild things show us
the cost of our domestication and timidity. These wild things are
very distinct from us and in other ways different from each other.
Yet we are none of us the creator, we and they are creatures and so
we feel a call to be one. These wild things are not going to get
less wild, so we are going to have to become wilder. We are going to
have to throw open the doors and let the Spirit in, or more
correctly, find the true spirit of the Creator, in whose image we are
made, inside of us and let the wild thing out into the creation all
around us. In the end we are all bound to go on a wild goose chase
because the wild things cannot be caught or contained. But along the
way we will find other wild goose chasers and we will be caught off
guard. Some of them will look like us, others will be wild and
strange. But we will learn new things from them. Some of them will
use old ways, others will use new ways. Some of the ways will seem
outdated and some will seem out of this world. But since the wild
things can never be caught, we will save ourselves a lot of headache
and instead find a blessing if we see all the ways as gifts for
enhancing and enjoying the chase. For, you see, the Holy Spirit is a
wild goose calling us to chase because of what we will gain in the
chase. The greatest gift of the chase is finding the other chasers.
As we get closer to catching the wild goose the path gets crowded by
lots of chasers who have gotten so caught up in the chase that they
only keep those things that help in the chase. So they are no longer
liberals suspect of evangelicals and evangelicals castigating
liberals. They are post-liberals and post-evangelicals who have
begun to see the gifts the other has and how wonderfully they
complement the gifts they have. They find that cooperation is not
only the best hope of catching the wild goose, but it is also a
bunch of fun. And well, isn't that joy the whole point of a wild
goose chase anyway? Maybe we can get the answer from God...right
after that smile fades off of God's face.
