When we got our first German short-haired pointer, Coffee, I thought she would have a more journalistic relationship with birds than, say, a retriever. I figured it was in the name of the breed. Whenever she saw a bird she would, you know, point at it, in the way you saw dogs do in those old-timey prints and paintings. But throughout the short years we had her, she flushed every bird she saw, including chickens that strayed over the fence.
The same with our second pointer, Elly. She was less aggressive about it, but she loved nothing more than leaping full speed out onto our back porch and scaring the hell out of all the doves under the feeder.
June, their successor, came from an amazing group in Alabama called Krewe de Rescue, and she is only about half pointer. This may explain her absolute disinterest in avifauna. Walk her by the cockiest of roosters and she will pay it no more mind than an abandoned bicycle. Which is a relief. Sure, she’s never going to fill the role of canine reporter of bird presence I once wished for, but she’s also not going to scare a bird away. At least I’m pretty sure.
Really, she just wants to be friends with everyone, barring cats and iguanas.
Which is why I decided it was okay to take her along when I went over to Truman Waterfront Park the other day on what I am tempted to call a wild goose chase, but was really more of an escaped domesticated goose chase, or a feral goose chase.
I’d been hearing for months about an Egyptian goose hanging around Key West. Sometimes it was reported over on Trumbo, sometimes it was recorded on Pier B, and sometimes, according to eBird, over at the golf course. But mostly it has been reported at Truman Waterfront.
The Egyptian goose is a rather striking species, somewhere between a Canada goose and mallard in size, and with a more low-key chic set of markings, including ruddy panda-style eye patches, a similarly ruddy ring around the neck, a dark Rorschach blot in the middle of its chest, and rhubarb-red legs. Oh, and a bright orange eye that it would be unkind, but not inaccurate, to describe as Sauron-esque.
At first I thought the name Egyptian goose might have come from how the bird’s looks seem like they could inspire a hieroglyphic, but no, they are from Africa and actually found in Egypt.
The Egyptian goose is an exotic species in North America, but an old-school exotic, having been around since at least 1877. For a while it was thought they may have gotten here of their own volition, but their ubiquity in people’s aviaries changed the thought on that.
The technical term for their status in the United States is as a naturalized exotic species, which means they breed in the wild and have a self-sustaining population that has sustained for a significant period. For birders this means they are a countable species, a bird you can add to your life list if you see one.
Looking at eBird maps, their biggest stronghold on the continent is the sprawl on the east coast of Florida from Cocoa Beach to Miami. There have only been two or three sightings of them in Key West.
At Truman Waterfront we walked along the curvy part of the trail, closer to the condos, for the shade, the dog’s tail in a slow wag. A northern mockingbird landed on one of the exercise stations and eyeballed June for being in her turf. June did not notice.
At the end of the path, near Admiral’s Cut, an older gentleman in a folding chair was tossing small chunks of bread onto the concrete. Four or five dozen rock pigeons arrayed in a half circle in front of him, were pecking up all the crumbs. And one seemingly oversized bird was standing still off to the edge, like a lawn ornament. The Egyptian goose.
June and I moved over to one of the mooring bollards and took refuge in the extremely limited shade of a coconut palm. I told her to lie down and she actually did.
The goose didn’t do much for a while, then he moved over close to the edge of the seawall and stared out at the water. Then he moved back into the half circle of pigeons, the smaller birds all keeping a two- or three-foot zone around him.
A jogger came down to the end of the curvy path and turned onto the wider apron. The dog got up and gave her best wag, but the woman kept on her way. I told June to lie down.
The goose waddled over and drank out of the Tupperware the gentleman had put out, throwing his head back with every mouthful to gulp it down. (A bird can’t create suction with its bill.)
June stood up again as two men in dress shirts and long pants rounded the end of the path and headed back on the apron, but they didn’t give her a second glance. I told her to lie down again.
One of the pigeons wandered too close to the Egyptian goose and it rushed at him with its head down low, like a cow catcher on a steam engine, and the pigeon hopped up and flew to the other side of the semi-circle. A white ibis came in and grabbed up some of the bread with the tip of its bill, as if using chopsticks.
June made unfulfilled bids for attention to a half dozen more passersby, and I decided we should go before she got a complex.
Deciding to get a few more steps in, we walked by the car and across the parking lot to the grassy area. That’s when we were spotted by a gaggle of elementary school kids. Their van had broken down and they were looking bored. Eight of them asked at the same time if they could pet my dog. I assured the kids’ teacher the dog was friendly and she gave me the nod. June flopped into the grass and got petted and scratched and became the center of the universe for a good 10 minutes.
She might get into this whole birdwatching thing after all.
