Once, there was a flock of geese in a land where the seasons were brought by four great animal spirits. These geese lived next to a beautiful lake and through spring, summer, and autumn they were happy. But whenever the owl of winter flew over, the lake would freeze, all the plants would die, and the youngest chicks would starve. One day in spring, after an especially bad winter, one of the younger geese had an idea. He flew down to the lake and said to all the others, “What if we flew ahead of Winter, and rested before she reached us?”
But the other geese did not want to leave, so they told him to go away. The young goose flew off, disappointed that he had failed. He sat in thought until he realized what to do, then he flew back down to the lake. The geese scattered as he landed, but after a bit an older goose swam up. The old goose’s feathers were puffed, and, clearly mad, she snapped, “What dumb idea have you brought us now? This flock has always lived here, why would we leave?”
But the young goose was not deterred, this time he argued back, “Surely you can see our numbers dwindling. These winter’s are too harsh, we must do something!”
The older goose would not listen, telling him, “The winters here may be harsh, but we know them well. We know the foxes and the cats; we know where to run to.”
The young goose went silent, thinking on these points. Then just as the other geese turned away, he spoke up. “What good is knowing where to run, when you have no strength to? And as for leaving our home, we can wait out winter and return!”
The others stopped and spoke among themselves, before the oldest turned back with a sigh. “I have been outvoted. Next autumn we will follow you. But no creature can escape winter, this lesson you will learn.”
Summer passed without issue, and soon the leaves began to shift with autumn’s presence. The flock gathered at the lake, preparing for their journey. At first their flight was haphazard, but as they climbed they quickly figured out formations. They left the valley far behind, soaring over the mountains. They flew for days before their short breaks were no longer enough for the weaker geese. After some deliberation, the flock decided that the hills below them would make a fine place to land. They settled down on a small lake sheltered by the trees. There were plenty of reeds and no trace of predators, so the geese believed they could rest easy. But after only a few days, not nearly enough for their weary wings, the young leader spotted clouds moving across the sky. These clouds were not autumn's gray rain clouds; they were winter’s snowy white.
The rest of the geese soon noticed as well, and several began to panic. “What are we going to do?” cried one. “We aren’t ready to survive winter!”
The young goose beat his wings loudly and shouted across the group, “Winter’s arrival is only a sign that we are not far enough. If we fly faster, we can still escape!”
So all the geese flapped their wings and poured everything they had into speed. They flew as fast as they could, down over the hills and trees, until they could see no hint of winter behind them. But this speed could not be kept up for long and soon the older geese began to lag. So the flock looked to the ground and saw a sparkling river flowing through a vast grassland. They landed in a calm section of river and were delighted to find that, like before, there were no hunters. They gorged themselves on grass, but again they did not have long before winter’s clouds appeared on the horizon. This time the geese did not panic. Urged by the young goose’s fierce words they took off and resumed their journey.
The flock flew only a short distance before they found themselves staring up at a towering mountain, taller than anything they had ever seen before. They began to chatter amongst themselves.
“It’s too tall to fly over!” said one.
“There’s no way around it either,” added another. “The elder was right, we can’t outfly winter!”
“No,” said the young goose. “It’s lower around the sides. We can fly that high. And surely this mountain can slow winter.”
So the geese rallied their strength and started forward again. They flew higher and higher, so high they couldn’t breathe, until they reached the other side of the mountain. Then down they soared, down the slopes and hills to the edge of the ocean. There they found marshes full of reeds and grasses, but again they could not rest. Over the mountains came those white clouds and the flock was trapped, for trying to cross the ocean would be their deaths. The young goose who had started everything raised his head and said, “I was wrong, the elder was right. To outfly winter is not something we could manage.” Then he beat his wings and off he went, without a word of what he planned.
The young goose flew up and up the mountain and there he saw the owl of winter. Clouds gathered around her talons, snow fell from her wings, and she stopped in front of him. “I have seen your flock ahead of me, goose. Whyever have you turned back?”
“Great spirit, my flock can fly no farther,” answered the goose. “I ask you to spare this place so we may rest.”
Winter pondered this request, then said, “Your flock has flown far for this, no more snow will touch this land.”
So she flew high above the land, so high her snows became rain before they touched the ground. And since that day, when Winter comes to their valley, the geese fly to the coast to wait.
But the other geese did not want to leave, so they told him to go away. The young goose flew off, disappointed that he had failed. He sat in thought until he realized what to do, then he flew back down to the lake. The geese scattered as he landed, but after a bit an older goose swam up. The old goose’s feathers were puffed, and, clearly mad, she snapped, “What dumb idea have you brought us now? This flock has always lived here, why would we leave?”
But the young goose was not deterred, this time he argued back, “Surely you can see our numbers dwindling. These winter’s are too harsh, we must do something!”
The older goose would not listen, telling him, “The winters here may be harsh, but we know them well. We know the foxes and the cats; we know where to run to.”
The young goose went silent, thinking on these points. Then just as the other geese turned away, he spoke up. “What good is knowing where to run, when you have no strength to? And as for leaving our home, we can wait out winter and return!”
The others stopped and spoke among themselves, before the oldest turned back with a sigh. “I have been outvoted. Next autumn we will follow you. But no creature can escape winter, this lesson you will learn.”
Summer passed without issue, and soon the leaves began to shift with autumn’s presence. The flock gathered at the lake, preparing for their journey. At first their flight was haphazard, but as they climbed they quickly figured out formations. They left the valley far behind, soaring over the mountains. They flew for days before their short breaks were no longer enough for the weaker geese. After some deliberation, the flock decided that the hills below them would make a fine place to land. They settled down on a small lake sheltered by the trees. There were plenty of reeds and no trace of predators, so the geese believed they could rest easy. But after only a few days, not nearly enough for their weary wings, the young leader spotted clouds moving across the sky. These clouds were not autumn's gray rain clouds; they were winter’s snowy white.
The rest of the geese soon noticed as well, and several began to panic. “What are we going to do?” cried one. “We aren’t ready to survive winter!”
The young goose beat his wings loudly and shouted across the group, “Winter’s arrival is only a sign that we are not far enough. If we fly faster, we can still escape!”
So all the geese flapped their wings and poured everything they had into speed. They flew as fast as they could, down over the hills and trees, until they could see no hint of winter behind them. But this speed could not be kept up for long and soon the older geese began to lag. So the flock looked to the ground and saw a sparkling river flowing through a vast grassland. They landed in a calm section of river and were delighted to find that, like before, there were no hunters. They gorged themselves on grass, but again they did not have long before winter’s clouds appeared on the horizon. This time the geese did not panic. Urged by the young goose’s fierce words they took off and resumed their journey.
The flock flew only a short distance before they found themselves staring up at a towering mountain, taller than anything they had ever seen before. They began to chatter amongst themselves.
“It’s too tall to fly over!” said one.
“There’s no way around it either,” added another. “The elder was right, we can’t outfly winter!”
“No,” said the young goose. “It’s lower around the sides. We can fly that high. And surely this mountain can slow winter.”
So the geese rallied their strength and started forward again. They flew higher and higher, so high they couldn’t breathe, until they reached the other side of the mountain. Then down they soared, down the slopes and hills to the edge of the ocean. There they found marshes full of reeds and grasses, but again they could not rest. Over the mountains came those white clouds and the flock was trapped, for trying to cross the ocean would be their deaths. The young goose who had started everything raised his head and said, “I was wrong, the elder was right. To outfly winter is not something we could manage.” Then he beat his wings and off he went, without a word of what he planned.
The young goose flew up and up the mountain and there he saw the owl of winter. Clouds gathered around her talons, snow fell from her wings, and she stopped in front of him. “I have seen your flock ahead of me, goose. Whyever have you turned back?”
“Great spirit, my flock can fly no farther,” answered the goose. “I ask you to spare this place so we may rest.”
Winter pondered this request, then said, “Your flock has flown far for this, no more snow will touch this land.”
So she flew high above the land, so high her snows became rain before they touched the ground. And since that day, when Winter comes to their valley, the geese fly to the coast to wait.