Duck, duck, goose is a child’s game that originated in Sweden. Children sit in a circle and one of them walks around tapping everyone on the shoulder while saying, “Duck, duck …” until he taps another and says, “Goose.” The goose then chases the “it” kid and tries to tag him before he gets to the space vacated from the circle by the goose.

The other day I stood fishing at my favorite lake. The fog was thick and visibility was no more than 30 yards into the water.

From the far right on the lake, a group of Canada geese appeared as silhouettes against the fog. One goose swam out in front and turned to face the others. It flapped its wings and honked loudly as if giving orders to the other geese that numbered about 20. I expected them to take flight; however, they lined up in a formation of threes across and swam toward the middle of the lake instead.

Suddenly, from the far left of the lake a few ducks appeared out of the fog. As they swam in single file toward the middle of the lake, a few more appeared until I counted a dozen. A thought came into mind that this was about to be a faceoff of ducks against geese, a confrontation for territorial rights to the lake.

They came toward each other, silhouettes through the fog, in a surreal scene of nature’s forces proudly representing their species.

As I watched with a rush of adrenaline moving through me, the ducks calmly swam between the goose formations and split the lines of three across. They came close to brushing against the feathers of their much larger occupants of the lake. The ducks and geese both stopped for a moment and it appeared they were enjoying each other’s company until the head goose turned to face them all. It honked a high-pitched succession of sounds and then an amazing act of aggression took place. In absolute unison, the geese opened their wings and flapped them rapidly against the surface of the lake, sending showers of water down upon the center all the ducks and geese. When the flapping ceased, the ducks quickly dispersed from the formation and retreated toward the direction from where they had come.

I took a moment to try to understand in my human brain what I had just witnessed In the animal world. First, size does matter. A full-grown Canada goose weighs as much as 14 pounds while a mallard duck tops out at about 3½ pounds. This was not a fair matchup for a fight, and I didn’t think that was what the much smaller ducks were trying to do anyway. They mingled between the geese in an act of community, making their statement that the lake was for everyone to enjoy.

The geese rejected the peaceful invitation, and led by their general at the front, beat their wings against the water as if to say, “We don’t want you here. This is our lake.”

When I got home, I thought about how the morning’s event on the lake personifies human behavior. The big mouth commands the room. We pay attention to loud people, those who outshout the others to get their way. The rest of the gaggle of geese fall obediently in line and do what they’re told. This is what children are taught in school. Step out of the formation and there are consequences to pay.

I remember getting yanked out of a chair by my kindergarten teacher and dragged to the corner of the room because I raised by head from the top of my desk during nap time. I broke formation. Unlike me, not a single goose disobeyed their general’s orders.

The ducks innately must have known they couldn’t scare their feathered foes from the lake, so their tactic was to try to build community.

All inclusive advocates like Martin Luther King Jr. preached the unity of man, a concept we still struggle with in our neighborhoods today. When the geese chased away the ducks from the center of the lake, they were flashing their strength of authority. There are those who say we need martial law to quell the protests and disturbances we are having in our country now. If people fear authority, they will do what they’re told or face arrest.

Others say the “ducks” have the right to establish their presence in the community. Between May and August of 2020, 10,600 demonstrations have taken place in cities across the nation. Only 5% have involved demonstrators engaged in violence, but that small percent becomes the top stories on the 6 o’clock news.

If there were such a thing as Waterfowl TV, General Goose and its legions threatening gestures would have been a prime-time story. If all the ducks and geese came together in harmony; however, would the rest of the life of the lake have even cared to turn an eye?

We know that many animals are territorial. This posture, of course, invites conflict. Humans are supposed to be the highest order of intelligence on earth, but just like the geese, we flap our wings to demonstrate our superiority over those we don’t like.

Yet, unlike the ducks and geese, we are not of different species which makes it all the more puzzling why we can’t live together in peace.

Rich Strack can be reached at katehep11@gmail.com.