Unlimited edition. 18 x 24 inch, museum-quality poster on matte paper.

The remarkably adaptable snow goose is doing so well that conservationists are concerned they’re overburdening and degrading sensitive habitats other, less successful species depend on. Modern agricultural practices are the primary contributor to the exploding snow goose population. Because there is now an abundance of grain crops on the snow goose wintering grounds here in the US, they eat heartily even during the toughest time of year. This means many more birds return to their Arctic breeding grounds, where they are destroying the fragile ecosystem through overgrazing. A wide range of conservation organizations, from the Audubon Society to Ducks Unlimited, support measures that increase snow goose hunting, but research has so far suggested that hunters would need to kill three times as many snow geese as they currently do to even begin to make a difference. It’s more likely the birds’ own overabundance will lead to ecological collapse and secondary succession.

When I think of snow geese, though, the first thing that comes to mind is not this troubling reality. Instead, it’s the great assemblies that occur on the Delmarva Peninsula, where I grew up. The following excerpt is from a 2005 journal, written during a visit to Virginia from NYC, where I lived at the time.

We arrived home on Thanksgiving, just after midnight. Outside, the racket surprised me and, at first, I wasn't sure what I was hearing. City living has retarded my ear but, like a foreign language left unspoken for a time, the sounds of rural life are not forgotten and can be quickly relearned. "Isn't that wonderful to hear?," my father asked as he quietly shut the door of the pickup truck. "There must be over a thousand out there." I stared into the darkness beyond the reach of the garage light, at last recognizing the sound's source. A hundred yards away in the estuary, geese were conversing excitedly. These were not Canada geese, the species with which even most urbanites are at least a little familiar, but snow geese. Their voices are distinct. As I stood in the fall chill, listening to the birds, I smiled. It's good to appreciate your mother tongue anew. The next morning, my father called down to me a little after sunrise. "Look outside, Christopher! Quickly." Bleary eyed, I rolled off the couch and stumbled onto the porch. Thousands of snow geese traded about over the estuary. Their white bodies reflected the brilliant morning sun so that the sky seemed full of diamonds. “About three thousand," my father yelled from upstairs. "What a flight!" The birds' chatted, gossiped, and argued as they rose in great swirls, preparing to move to their inland feeding grounds. They would return at sundown and once again take refuge in the estuary. I watched the spectacle in silence, duly thankful to be home.

Note: These archival poster prints feature rich, appealing colors. I encourage customers to take care in handling them until they are framed/protected for display; the darker colors on the matte paper can be scratched. They ship rolled, so customers need to flatten them before framing (or have their framer do so).

Charitable Sales Model: Whenever one of these poster prints is purchased, a charitable contribution equal to 10% of the print’s cost (or $3.60) is made to a nonprofit working to tackle environmental or social challenges. Read more about my charitable sales model here.