Bondi Resort Blog

Come on into our Blog for a look at the wonderful world we've got to share! With over 240 hectares (600 acres) of wilderness woodlands surrounding the resort, just ten minutes from Algonquin Park, we feature over 400 metres (1200’) of waterfront and beach; boat rentals; summer hiking trails winding through fields and woods; 20 km. of groomed cross country ski trails and snowshoeing in winter; access to nearby snowmobile trails for sledders, and a toboggan hill for the young at heart.

Friday, April 17, 2009

Skeins, Gaggles and Flocks

Once upon a time, not many years ago, and not far away, the Canada geese migrated in spring and fall. Great V's would overfly us on their way north in the spring, south in the fall. It was thrilling in spring -- the first distant honking heralding the true end of winter and everyone outside looking up, trying to be the first to spot that thin black thread trailing north. It was sad, in the autumn, their return signalling the end of autumn, winter moving closer. In the wake of their flight, the skies were flown empty, summer was done.

When geese come in numbers, there are names for that. It's called a 'skein', when the geese are in flight. A 'gaggle' when geese are on water, a 'flock' when they are on land. It's a curious thing, the English language.

Almost as curious as the fact that now the geese are stopping in Toronto for the winter, and dropping into Lake of Bays for the summer. We have no objection to skeins of geese. Or gaggles. It's when the birds flock that we have an issue, and we go to great lengths to keep them off docks and lawns.

Geese dislike holographic "eyes", so we have mobiles that turn and flash by the dock. They dislike the taste of garlic -- there is a product that turns your lawn into something akin to a caesar salad, used a lot on golfcourses, I'm told. There's the time tested 'chase them off' technique, which no longer works for Holly the poodle, who got chased right back by a huffy gander and has since just tried to ignore the geese.

I still stand, rake in hand, breathless, watching the skeins of geese fly north. And I still think they are beautiful, dipping their beaks in the lake, sailing serenely in front of Bondi. But they can't be on the lawns, or the docks, and it makes me sad that I can no longer thrill to the sound of the geese in spring...

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