Sir Richard of the Wild Heart

By Marjorie Woodward

“Daddy, wherever did you find him?” cried Becky as she came up the path from the school bus.

On the lawn in front of her dad was a beautiful Canada goose, his one good wing flailing around while the other dragged on the ground.

“I found him by the pond,” replied Dad, “but he’s badly wounded.”

Becky’s mother came hurrying from the house to see the injured honker.

“He looks more dead than alive!” she exclaimed. “And he’s so handsome,” she added as she knelt and stroked the battered bird.

Becky’s heart went out to the poor wild creature. His lean and elegant body was covered with black, gray, and white feathers that shimmered in the sunlight. But his once proud strut was hampered by the dragging wing.

“Look how lopsided he walks,” said Mother sympathetically. “Shall we feed him some chicken mash?”

Dad nodded his head as he picked up the big, wounded goose.

“Becky, get some chicken feed,” directed Mother. “Your dad can carry him to the woodshed.”

A little later Becky watched as the honker ate hungrily. “Can he be mine?” she asked. “I’ll take care of him.”

“I guess so,” replied her dad. “But be sure to see that he has food and water every day.”

“I’m going to call him Sir Richard,” declared Becky, “because he’s so dignified and brave looking.”

“Sir Richard, the lopsided?” teased her dad.

“He is very handsome and he must be courageous too,” defended her mother. “I think Sir Richard is a good name for him.”

Becky often sat by the wild gander as he ate, and every day he seemed to grow a little stronger. In about six weeks Sir Richard was strong enough to walk, but he still looked and walked a little lopsided.

He followed Becky about, frequently drawing his long neck against her overalls to show his affection for her. Then he’d shove his bill into her hand, pretending to bite.

Sir Richard seemed to like the farmyard animals. The baby chicks used him for shade from the sun, and he acted as a mother to the baby kittens when their own mother wasn’t around.

The other barnyard geese trailed after the handsome stranger, trying to get him to notice them. How they preened and fluttered their feathers before him! But Sir Richard ignored all their feminine ways, and if they came too near, he’d give them a whack with his bill.

Becky grew to love her wild friend, though he would often get in her way as she did her chores. She would sometimes sit outside with the gander’s beautiful neck stretched across her legs and stroke his soft feathered body.

One day Sir Richard was nowhere to be seen. Becky called and called, then headed toward the pond. Perhaps he has gone to the pond to swim, she thought, so her eyes opened wide with surprise when Sir Richard suddenly flew into the barnyard and landed with a thump at her feet. His wing appeared to be completely healed.

The goose seemed almost as surprised as Becky, and shook his head in astonishment at what he had done. He looked at the wounded wing and gabbled excitedly. Then he raised both wings and danced about the barnyard. Running back to Becky, he pulled at her overalls and thrust his bill into her hand.

That evening at supper Becky told Mother and Dad about Sir Richard. They looked at each other and then at Becky.

“Becky, dear,” said her mother, “now that summer is nearly over and Sir Richard’s wing is healed, he’ll want his freedom.”

“That’s right,” Dad agreed. “Instinctively, now that he’s well, Sir Richard will want to travel freely with his own kind. It’s all part of Heavenly Father’s plan.”

Becky’s eyes went quickly from her mother to her father and she read in their expressions the awful truth.

When school started, she hurried home each day to see if Sir Richard were still at the farm.

“Do people ever clip the wings of geese to keep them from flying?” she asked Dad hopefully one night.

“Sometimes they do,” he replied, aware of the sadness in Becky’s voice.

Each day she scanned the sky. Then one crisp fall Saturday the first flight of wild geese flew south over the farm. When Sir Richard heard them his regal body trembled, and Becky’s heartbeat doubled. A lump seemed to catch in her throat, and a loneliness began to fill her heart.

She looked at Sir Richard and then at the sky, from which came the clear, shrill call of his wild friends. A moment later Sir Richard took a running start and rose into the air, answering the natural urge that filled his untamed heart. Becky watched until he was only a speck in the sky.

Her solitary, drooping figure made a lonely picture as she walked toward the house. But soon Becky’s face broke into a smile when she remembered with pride how her once-crippled friend had risen so grandly skyward. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked up at the heavens where he had disappeared.

“Good-bye, Sir Richard,” she whispered. “Good-bye.”

Illustrated by Dick Brown