I was sitting at my desk when my neighbor tapped the window. She wore a look of disbelief and pointed in the direction of the street. There was only one thing that could cause such a look. I rose from my chair and flapped my arms.  She nodded her head.

Our worst nightmare was unfolding. The geese were back with six goslings in tow, and they were waddling toward our pond and lawn like settlers staking their claim.

Anyone who reads my blog knows the battle for a goose-free yard has raged about four years, with each year seeing a rise in hostilities. Those of us who live on the pond have done everything, except get out our guns, to keep these annoying birds away. And it’s only the fact that it is illegal to shoot Canada geese that has kept even the pacifists among us from going that route.

We did, however, erect a fence around the pond about six weeks ago in the hope that the geese would find this area unacceptable. They do not like barriers between the two most important elements of their home: water and grass.

My neighbor and I watched as the parents led their flock across my lawn and stopped. I grabbed a broom and headed out the door to reiterate the point that they were not welcome. Clearly they thought I was the trespasser as they hissed and moved along. I followed and chased them around the building back to the street.

I don’t know how many more times the family will return, but I hope it gets the message soon. Otherwise, I just might risk punishment by the federal government.

A month ago I blogged about the new fence that was installed around the perimeter of our pond to keep geese away. It’s done a marvelous job, although neither the fence nor I are letting down our guards. The geese aren’t letting theirs down either.

We are not sure if they are the same two parent birds who’ve come the past three years, had their babies, and parked for the summer. Not that it matters.  No geese are welcome here.

They’re having a problem getting the message, however. They still think the pond is theirs and the verdant lawns that frame it are theirs too.  So two or three times a week, they swoop in, land on the pond, and inspect the fence.  They paddle around it looking for holes and complaining loudly when they find none.

If I spoke Goose, I imagine I would hear a conversation like this: “Gracie, the barrier those two-legged stick-like creatures put up is still here. Paddle over there and check it out.”

“Yes, Gilbert,” the other goose would respond, “it does seem to be as sturdy as the last time we came. How much longer are we going to check it out?”

“It’s only been a month,” Gilbert would honk. “Surely, it will break down over the summer, and we can reclaim our home.”

After their inspection, Gracie and Gilbert Goose fly off over the rooftops. I watch from my window and double my resolve to stay vigilant, because it seems you can’t teach an old goose new tricks.