Meet Spot

A renewed heart for the family table wasn’t the only thing we brought home from Iowa.

The morning we left, we finished packing the car and making our rounds to say good-bye.

“Spot’s all packed up and ready for Oklahoma!” my nephew said.

“What?” we all responded at once.

Sure enough, our favorite gosling—Spot—had been lovingly packed up with food and water, ready to come home with us.

It hit me right in the feels. Such a sweet, thoughtful suprise.

I think we were all a little nervous about how he would handle the ten-hour drive, but he did remarkably well.

(“He”, we think—we’re still not sure yet.)

He spent some time in his box as well as being passed around from lap to lap. We encouraged him to eat and drink along the way, and he quickly learned our voices. When he called out and we answered, his cries softened into something closer to chatter.

He was talking to us.

When we got home, we unpacked the car and immediately set up a brooder for him.

But honestly…he was lonely.

He had been part of a large group, surrounded by constant noise, movement, and companionship. Now, suddenly, he was alone.

A few times, I picked him up, wrapped him in a towel—I was not about to get pooped on—and carried him around the house with me, assuring him that if he could just hold on a few days, he would have friends.

Well…”the strain was more than he could bear,” as Doc Holliday would say.

So we moved him out to the shed with the last of our baby chicks, and he immediately perked up. It turns out, he just needed company.

Then Hatching Day finally came.

We brought Spot back inside, and before long, he was caring for the first ducklings as they hatched. He seemed both curious and slightly concerned as I doubled his group from four to eight.

Once this first round of ducklings were big enough to graduate to the shed, we promoted the remaining baby chickens to the coop and moved the ducklings and Spot into the larger space.

They seemed to appreciate having “so much room for activities” and faithfully followed Spot everywhere he went.

And Spot…took his role seriously.

He seemed to teach them and protect them.

Soon, four more ducklings joined the group.

And then—Lucky 13.

When Lucky 13 began to decline, Spot was the first to notice.

He called out—loud and urgent until I came.

I did what I could, but we lost the duckling.

If possible, Spot called out even more loudly and more urgently, as though trying to make sure we understood.

I couldn’t believe it.

He knew something was wrong. And he knew to get our attention.

He has been growing unbelievably fast, caring for the now eight ducklings day by day (we’ve since lost four more).

His blue-gray feathers have come in, though he kept his signature spot. He still greets us each day with his familiar little “meep-meep,” hurrying over the moment he spots us outside.

It’s hard to believe the tiny gosling we brought home from Iowa mere weeks ago has already grown into a proper goose—a serious goose, at that. Spot, it seems, is anything but silly.

Next up: In the Garden—where things don’t always grow the way I expect them to. Coming June 9.