Parking Geese

There are these small grassy islands in-between the sectional lots of cars; you would presume that nesting geese would select these spaces above all other less green choices, but in the mall parking area where acres of concrete march toward distant outlets, the geese have shunned greenery, as if soft earth and sheltering stems were just too rustic. The birds have created synthetic havens, woven from strips of Styrofoam, plastic bags, cardboard fragments, straws, paper cups and other debris plucked from the strategically sparse and overflowing trash bins. I don’t know if being Canadian, the geese eschew anything that smells of wild prairies, or snowy hills, preferring, like tourists, to construct their nests to be more like un-valeted motel rooms after a boozy party. They sit there taking turns to face the exhaust fumes, the rumbling squeal of broken cartwheels, crying kids being dragged into minivans; all the chaos of a tribal shopping dance. They seem content to mix it with these Ohio natives with their discarded urban detritus. Maybe they feel like rich vacationers in a less fortunate, impoverished land, I guess after all, they just want to blend in.