When I was little, my dad and mom had a stereo. Made to sit on a table, it actually sat on the floor in our dining room, in a corner. They had very few albums. My dad, a Naval ensign in WWII, loved to listen to light classical music, and had the album "Victory at Sea", which he played repeatedly. I still think of him in his recliner in the dining room (the table was pushed to the side), with his reading lamp on above him, reading Shirer's "The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich" for the umpteenth time (we never knew if he ever finished it), and listening to Victory at Sea. How I wish I had been old enough to have real conversations with him... he died when I was nineteen, at the age of 55. One of the albums Daddy had was by Frankie Laine, and on that album was a song "The Call of the Wild Goose" - I think was the name. How I loved that song! It instilled in the heart of a little city girl the longing for wild spaces and the country, neither of which my parents, my brothers or sister shared. One of the lines was "My heart goes where the wild goose goes"... and here, at Calamity Acres, we are between the Missouri and the Kansas (Kaw) rivers.... surrounded by bean and corn fields. Keith has seen perhaps a thousand geese rise up from the fields by Stranger creek, a mile from our house. They are hungrily feeding now that the snow has melted and before the next round comes. On my way home, I saw several hundred. Of course, when I want to show them to you, I can't find the videos... but some nights thousands upon thousands come flying overhead, their siren sounding the call to go with them. They come in waves, and sometimes are just above the house. Here is a sample of what we frequently see... and please, pardon the bad camerawork at the end, I filmed it a ten days ago and am at a loss how to cut the end part out. Just turn up your sound so you can hear their glorious noise.