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A few birds from the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta.


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C

:
Cackling Goose
Tuutangayak

Try as I might, I could never get the call of a Cackling goose just right. Don’t get me wrong, I had the best teachers, my own students. When the first cacklers arrived in spring over Marshall we all rushed to the window and gazed skyward. As we watched the birds flying overhead, the boys would imitate their call. And they were good at it. They would show me how it was done, and I would practice during my daily skis or walks in the tundra behind the village, but when I tried my own version of the call out in their presence they would politely say it sounded a little off, kind of like a sick goose. I still try imitating these familiar geese, but as my voice gets older I can’t even come close.

Whenever I heard or saw Cackling geese in spring or fall in their V-formations, a shiver ran through my body. For they were the true heralds of spring and fall, of the annual change of seasons that for me represented either the promise of canoeing or the suggestion of snow and the beginning of cross-country skiing.

I was always aware, though, that the arrival and departure of the geese meant something different for my students. It meant a change in diet in the spring, a chance to eat something other than fish and store-bought food. In fall, for the boys it meant moose season was here and the opportunity to go out with their families to bag part of their winter food supply. And to be real hunters, just like their dads.

Aside from this, cacklers are fascinating in their own right. They are among the few bird species in which the family does not separate at the end of the summer. The young stay with their parents almost all year, including both migrations and on the wintering grounds down south. They usually mate for life and are faithful to their original nesting ground, returning year after year to raise new young there.

Only after the yearlings return to where they were raised in the Lower Y-K Delta do they separate from their parents. They do not nest yet, however, but usually form mixed-sex flocks with other yearlings that bounce all over the place, sometimes hundreds of miles from their nesting parents, just seeming to have fun and getting to know each other for future choice of mates and nesting themselves. Which mostly happens during the fourth summer, although some that establish early pair bonds may nest during their third summer. Young love.

When these new lovers decide to get serious and raise young, there is an enchanting ritual involved. Even before arriving on their nesting ground the courting male stretches out his neck, holds his head about an inch off the ground with bill open and tongue raised, hisses loudly, shakes his quills vigorously, and slowly approaches his paramour, finally passing his neck around hers in what amounts to a caress. Who said humans had a monopoly on love?

Soon after the mated pair arrives on their nesting ground, they get down to the serious business of nest building. When the female finds a good place to build her nest, usually on slightly elevated ground near water and with good visibility, she quickly scrapes a rounded depression with her bill and makes a shallow bowl-shaped nest of sticks, sedges, moss and other plants, finally lining it with down feathers she plucks from her own body.

That done, mating and egg laying begin and, if you were to check the nest after the last egg was laid, you might find up to 8 eggs there. The average, though, is about 5, and you’ll see these are a creamy white color.

Incubation is by the female alone while the gander stands guard nearby. He takes his job seriously and, if the nest is approached by other geese, ducks or predators, including humans, he will hiss loudly and even fly directly at them, striking them hard with his wings. Now that’s loyalty!

After 25-30 days, the eggs all hatch within 24 hours. Then the precocial young are led from the nest by their parents to open water where they are relatively safe from predators. Once there, they are able to swim and feed themselves, although always guarded by their parents. If a predator approaches, the young immediately dive under the water while their father performs a distraction display. Even day-old goslings can dive and swim underwater for 30-40 feet. When swimming as a family the gander usually leads, the goslings stringing out in single file with their mother bringing up the rear.

The goslings eat continuously as soon as they hit the water, feeding on a wide variety of plants, including the stems and shoots of grasses, sedges and aquatic plants, plus seeds, berries, grains and even some insects, snails, crustaceans and small fish. Even so, they take a long time to mature to where they can lift their big bodies off the water. When they finally do, they are 6-7 weeks old.

In late summer it was interesting watching the young geese begin to prepare for migration. First, they flew around seemingly at random, acting like the ragtag gaggle of geese they were at this stage. After a week or so they began to get it, stringing out behind their mother, with their dad guarding the rear, the way they would do it during migration. Two weeks had them pretty well trained, after which they were joined by birds from other family groups. Together they practiced flying in the wedge formation they would use to save energy during their migration south. When they finally left the Delta in September and October, they were flying in practiced skeins. What a beautiful sight that was.

Tuutangayak is the name for this goose everywhere in the Y-K Delta except in the Norton Sound region, including Kotlik, where it is called Tuutaalquciq. Both words refer to the “labret” or white chin strap under the bill.
The first part of the bird’s scientific name, Branta hutchinsii, comes from the Anglo Saxon word bernan, meaning to burn. The goose was so named because of its charred dark color. The species name is after Thomas Hutchins who served as surgeon with the Hudson Bay Company in Canada in the late 1700’s. He was a keen observer and collector of birds and mammals while he was there.

Note: Recent genetic work found the four smallest subspecies of the Canada goose to be very different. Hence, since 2004 these four subspecies have been renamed the Cackling goose and are now considered a completely separate species, Branta hutchinsii. In the 1970’s and 1980’s they became a bird of extreme concern, but thanks to the Hooper Bay Agreement of 1984 and cooperation by hunters in the YK Delta and elsewhere, the species has rebounded somewhat. Numbers are still below long-term averages, so they continue to have a protected status.

Cackling Goose

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