As I stood on my deck watching the autumn leaves floating about like errant monarch butterflies, I could hear the distant gabling of geese. Then, far off in the dusk, I saw them in perfect v-formation, undulating like a floating ribbon steadily moving south. When I hear the clamorous honking of such magnificent flocks and see those v-formations cutting across the clear crisp skies at sunset, I know it is October. Nothing, it seems, defines the season better than the sound and sight of a skein of geese flying across the horizon.

Interestingly, few of us know much about the history of these birds. While they may define the season and stop us in our tracks as they pass overhead, most people are surprised to learn that the large subspecies of Canada goose known as Branta canadensis maxima was once considered extinct. Who would think that this common bird almost went the way of the dodo, passenger pigeon and heath hen?

Overhunting for its meat and feathers led to the near destruction. It was persecuted so badly that even the passing of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act in 1916 was not enough to prevent decline. Eventually the scientific community reached a consensus that the giant maximus species had become extinct. But then in the early 1960s, a small flock was rediscovered. Quickly, state and federal wildlife biologists moved in to rescue the remnant population.

Ironically, as we speak of geese and migration time, the subspecies found at our local parks often choose not to migrate. They are not the same subspecies that nearly went extinct. Some are the result of old feeding programs and translocated birds. The migrating geese we see are coming from Maritime Canada and headed for the mid-Atlantic states.

When I was a kid, I would observe the geese in the wetlands near my home. What I remember most was the way the geese rigidly defended their territory. The male, especially, defended a large territory and did not take kindly to intruders. If an intruder got past the male, the female would fight to the finish to safeguard the area immediately around the nest.

There were several calls I learned worth noting. Listen for a high-pitched honk from the female and a lower double syllable honk from the male. The pair can synchronize these calls so that it almost sounds harmonious. A variety of neck postures, such as dipping during greetings and out-stretching when threatened, were easily recognized.

I must have been 10 years old when I observed the geese, which would have put me at about four feet tall. Little wonder why the 40-inch geese intimidated me when they got defensive. I can only imagine how frightened I might have been had they been the giant Canada goose. The giant Canada goose has a wing span close to seven feet and can weigh up to 20 pounds. They are nearly double the weight of the geese typically seen here in Connecticut.

In fact, it was the birds’ size that allowed for its rediscovery among a flock of smaller subspecies of Canada geese. The geese were observed by biologist Dr. Harold Hanson on Silver Lake in Minnesota and later confirmed through testing, proving the naysayers wrong about their extinction.

Today, the giant Canada goose is doing very well and thriving in the modern landscape. Although the urbanized subspecies have become a nuisance, I would not want to live in a world without these birds either. I cannot imagine the autumn season with out the magic of goose music.

Robert Tougias is a Colchester-based birder. He is the author of “Birder on Berry Lane.” You can ask him questions at roberttougias@gmail.com.