One of my favorite parts of the day happened again today.
Hadley and I were sitting together on the patio when our Lone Goose wandered into the yard for its usual visit to the Yard Café. As always, it calmly made its way through the grass, stopping to nibble at the cracked corn and fallen birdseed before continuing on its quiet routine.
Hadley looked at me and said she wished she could pet it.
I smiled because I understand that feeling. I think almost everyone who has watched this goose over the past weeks has imagined what it would be like if it walked right up beside us. I would love that too.
But I told her something that can be difficult to understand when you’re eight years old.
“The kindest thing we can do is let the goose be a goose.”
If it feels comfortable visiting our yard, that’s enough. It doesn’t need to become dependent on people or learn that every person is safe. We know we would never hurt it, but not everyone it might meet would show it the same kindness. A goose that loses its healthy caution can end up in danger simply because it trusts the wrong person.
So we watch from our chairs.
We smile when it visits.
We quietly enjoy sharing the same space for a little while.
And then we let it continue on its way, still wonderfully wild.
Sometimes loving nature isn’t about bringing it closer to us. Sometimes love means protecting the very thing that makes it free.
I think Hadley understood. Maybe not completely—not yet—but enough to simply sit beside me and watch.
And somehow, sharing those quiet moments from a respectful distance feels like a friendship all its own.
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