At this time of year in the northeast, a simple three-mile jog can feel like a climb up Mount Everest.  Not only are the temperatures chilling, the wind icy, and the other joggers few, but the scenery has changed considerably from a short month ago.

I have an idealic spot to jog.  A perfect 5K that loops around a soccer field, winding around the campus of a private school, ending up hugging the Farmington river for a half mile.  Then around a few more bends onto a paved path meandering through the woods, with short stretches of river.  The scenery is amazing, especially in the Spring, Summer, and Fall, and I consider it a privilege to have such a beautiful spot at my doorstep every time I step out for a brisk jog.

Since I take this path so often, I don’t have to think much about it, it’s like being on autopilot.  The past few days, though, a less familiar element has appeared along my favorite jogging route.  Geese!  Scores of f geese, thronging the pond near the first bridge.

It’s not the first time I have seen geese congregated like this.  It does happen at this time of year.  But it’s always a sight that makes me pay attention. In a bare field, hundreds of geese descend and carry on loudly, honking and walking around.  I wonder what the attraction is – if this is a convention – who is the keynote speaker this year?  It’s quite a sight.

I know this big gathering of geese is the prelude to their historic flight ‘south’ for the winter.  They gather, then fly, then return, in a yearly, clockwork cycle.

There are those who devote their time and minds to studying the migratory patterns of these geese.  Those who have mapped out these flying patterns to the closest longitude and latitude.  People who have made a science out of learning ‘how fast’ a goose can fly; ‘how far’; and ‘how long’ until they land.

And others, engineer-types, who have studied the formation of geese and invented amazing enhancements to air travel that defy gravity and allow for maximum efficiency.

When I stopped in the middle of my afternoon run, though, to consider the geese, I did not think of air travel or velocity.  This event, although annual, can still make me pause.

I stopped because the sheer numbers of geese are extraordinary, and powerful enough to arrest my attention.  I marveled at the internal clock of a goose, who, without aid of a calendar, day timer, or iPhone, knows the precise moment to fly from where he is to where the other geese are.  Somehow, they all “get the message.”

And, of course, with a sophisticated program that allows each goose to find each other on precisely the right day to choose a leader and form a group for their flight south, there must be a programmer. Who devised the “v” formation that they fly in. Who keeps them on the ground, honking and strutting around for days, until the moment is right for takeoff.

Could be that it’s just the way it is.  It’s part of nature.  Biology.

Or a divine programmer is behind it all.

The geese are still here in Windsor, CT.  Hundreds if not thousands of them.  Today they are in a holding pattern, waiting for takeoff. But will they still be with us, congregated in the field, on the pond, the next time I take my favorite path.

Only One knows.  His works can make you pause…and consider.