Chapter 1: Jimmy's First Migration
Jimmy flapped his wings once. Twice. Testing the air like a chef tastes soup before serving it. The cool autumn breeze rippled across the lake behind him, turning it into a sheet of silver. A few sleepy ducks were still bobbing near the reeds, unaware—or perhaps pretending not to care—that the great migration season had arrived.
This was it. His first big migration. The one all young geese talked about, trained for, dreamed about.
“You ready, son?” asked his dad, a tall, broad-chested goose with a voice like distant thunder.
Jimmy swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. “Absolutely.” He puffed out his chest. “I’ve been practicing my wing endurance all week. Yesterday I flew all the way to the other end of the lake and back without stopping.”
His older brother Hank snorted. “Wow. Half a mile. Try a thousand.”
Jimmy shot him a glare but kept his beak shut. No way was he letting Hank smell even a whiff of doubt.
Their mom waddled over, smoothing Jimmy’s feathers with gentle precision. “When we reach the southern wetlands, you’ll finally meet Marie.”
Jimmy felt a flutter in his stomach. Marie. The goose he’d been promised to since hatchlinghood. He’d never seen her, but the way everyone talked about her made her sound like a living legend—sleek feathers, perfect form, a glide so smooth it was like she didn’t even touch the air.
Jimmy tried to sound casual. “Yeah. I’ll meet her. No big deal.”
His sister Beatrice tilted her head with a smirk. “She’s going to take one look at you and fly the other way.”
Jimmy rolled his eyes. “She’ll be lucky to meet me. I’m very aerodynamic.”
Beatrice snorted. “You’re aerodynamic like a potato.”
Before Jimmy could think of a comeback, a commanding HONK split the morning air.
“ALL GEESE! FORM UP!”
It was Old Captain Gordon, the leader of the migration. He was a massive, battle-worn gander with feathers scarred from years of dodging hunters and storms. His voice could shake loose the pinecones from a tree.
The flock stirred like a living wave, stretching wings, taking their positions. One by one, they rose into the sky—graceful arcs of gray and white slicing through the crisp morning air.
Jimmy bent his knees, took a deep breath, and launched.
WHOOSH!
The ground fell away. His wings pumped hard, the air rushed past his face, and—hey—this wasn’t bad! It was amazing! His body felt light, buoyant, like he had been born for this. He slipped into the V-formation behind his mom, gliding in perfect sync.
“Not bad, rookie!” his dad called, glancing back with a proud grin.
Jimmy grinned right back. “Told you I’d—”
BOOM!
The sound ripped through the morning like the sky itself was cracking.
Jimmy flinched. “What was that?!”
BOOM!
Another deafening blast. Feathers exploded from somewhere near the back of the V. A goose honked in panic.
“HUNTERS!” Captain Gordon bellowed, his voice like a war horn. “DIVE! DIVE!”
Chaos erupted. The flock broke formation, zigging and zagging wildly. Honks filled the air as the geese tried to dodge the unseen danger below.
Jimmy’s heart pounded in his chest. He swerved left, then right, wings pumping furiously. His mind screamed don’t panic, don’t panic, but it was hard when the air smelled like smoke and fear.
BOOM!
Pain seared through his right wing. It felt like fire had ripped through his feathers. His body lurched.
“I’m—” he gasped, but the ground was already rushing up toward him.
“JIMMY!” his mom’s voice echoed, frantic and desperate.
He caught one last glimpse of her silhouette—of the entire flock surging forward, unable to circle back—before the trees swallowed him whole.
And then everything went black.
Jimmy’s adventure has just begun.
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