I need to start with a confession.
I am absolutely amazed by the quality of this image, given the low light before sunrise.
No, I’m not bragging about my talent. I’m bragging about the camera. When I first returned to photography, Trish used to tell people, with complete sincerity, “George’s camera takes beautiful pictures.” At the time, I rolled my eyes. Years later, I’d like to formally apologize to my wife. She was right. The camera is complicit.
This image is Exhibit A.
It was taken just as the sky began flirting with daylight—technically still “too dark” by polite photographic standards. But I ignored etiquette, cranked the ISO on my Nikon D850 up to a borderline irresponsible 25,600, and let physics and faith do the rest.
For my fellow photo nerds keeping score at home: Aperture f/7.1 · Focal Length 1000mm · Shutter 1/1250 sec. At that sensitivity, the sensor sees things the human eye simply shrugs and misses. Which brings us to the real question:
Why in God’s name did I take this picture?
Because these Canada Geese had completely lost the plot.
What I witnessed was a small squadron displaying a total absence of order, coordination, or what any reasonable species would call a plan. They began their takeoff run with feet slapping the water, splashes catching just enough reflected light to sparkle like chaos confetti. And then… instead of forming the classic V (that beautifully efficient, textbook example of avian teamwork), they devolved into airborne mayhem.
They bounced.
They zigged.
They zagged.
They jostled for position like shoppers on Black Friday fighting over a discounted toaster.
It was the avian version of The Three Stooges, except louder and with better wing spans.
And here’s the funny part: Canada Geese are actually highly organized birds. That V-formation everyone knows? It reduces wind resistance and conserves energy. They take turns leading because the front position is exhausting. They communicate constantly with honks—not arguments, but coordination calls. Families migrate together. Pairs often mate for life.
Which means this moment wasn’t ignorance.
It was democracy.
Somewhere in that flock:
- One goose wanted to lead.
- One thought leadership was overrated.
- One absolutely did not read the memo.
- And at least one was yelling, “No, THIS way!”
I watched long enough to think, “I have to get a picture of this.” I changed settings, raised the ISO, whispered a small prayer to the gods of low light, and pressed the shutter.
This is the result.
A photograph of chaos wrapped in competence.
Disorder inside a species known for discipline.
Proof that even nature occasionally wings it.
What do you think?
Smiles.
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