Why'd You Come Here?
That blazing summer—the kind that felt as if it would never end—slowly burned itself out.
In its wake passed an autumn so brief it hardly deserved the name, little more than a nod on the way through, and then winter arrived. This being Busan, catching sight of snow was a rare thing, but a cold settled in that set you shivering without a down coat.
"Co-old! So waaarm!"
And in that cold, So-eun had taken on a look that called a polar bear to mind. Zipped to the chin in a brand-new, brilliantly white, ballooning long down coat, she was a polar bear and nothing else. The small fortune we'd spent on it had clearly been worth every bit.
"Somethin'... somethin's familiar..."
...Was that thing stuffed with goose down?
The coat did seem to make the geese feel a certain kinship with So-eun, but I did my best to ignore it. Dwell on every little thing like that and I'd lose my mind for certain.
"Suhwan, the geese seem to be sticking to So-eun more than usual. Why are they acting like that?"
"...Something about her feels familiar, they say."
"Familiar? Why would—...oh."
Noona, who'd been tilting her head, seemed to land on the same thought I had.
"So, um... what should we have for dinner?"
"Let's do fish cake soup. It's cold out—doesn't that sound perfect?"
"Then how about a glass of soju while we're at it? It's been a while."
"I'm in!"
By mutual, unspoken agreement, we set out to forget exactly what So-eun's coat was made of.
"Cheers!"
And once dinner's fish cake soup had been chased with a round of soju and we'd fallen into bed, the thought didn't come back at all.
The next morning, though, a fresh ordeal was waiting for us.
"Wh-what is this?!"
I'd opened the cafe door to get the place ready for the day, and the sight inside was the reason for the shout.
"Why do you carry on so? Ah—those wild geese, is it? They are creatures that come calling whenever the cold draws near. Ordinarily they alight in lands far yonder, and yet for some reason they have come all the way here, it would seem."
Just as Yubu said, the cafe's lawn was now occupied by wild geese.
"My pooool!"
They'd even seized the swimming pool and the lazy river, and Pe-eng was wailing.
"What are you? Why'd you come here?"
I went straight over to the wild geese and demanded to know why they'd taken over our cafe. I knew they were migratory birds, and I knew there was a stopover for them a fair distance away, which only made it harder to understand. I genuinely wanted to know what they imagined was here that was worth flying in and claiming the place.
The one who answered was a wild goose in rather rough shape—or more precisely, not so much unwell as covered in injuries from one too many fights over rank.
"Saw. Days ago. Lovely human! We, stay. Here. Do, healing. Watch, lovely human!"
"And why do these ones talk like this... wait. Lovely human? Don't tell me—So-eun?"
The goose's words startled me so badly my mouth fell open. But I knew at once the creature was telling the truth, because the moment So-eun came in behind me with Noona, every wild goose's gaze locked onto her.
"Urk! Don't, push!"
The ones in the lazy river were swept along by the current and piled into the pool, so unable to look away from So-eun, or even to move, that they simply went where the water took them. When she came toddling over and latched onto my thigh, their heads turned in slow unison and fixed on her.
"Appa, those fwends?"
"Hmm... geese and wild geese are the same family, more or less. Sure. They're the geese's friends."
"Wow! Hi!"
I couldn't help a small smile at So-eun waving both hands as she said it, and just then one of the staff sidled over.
"Boss. What should we do? Are we opening?"
"Give me a minute. I need to have a little talk with these guys."
The question brought back the long line I'd seen on my way out of the house. Plenty of people had come to see the animals even on a cold day, and I couldn't afford to waste their time.
"You're welcome to stay. But even if people come up to you, you don't get to attack them. Most of them only want to get close because they think you're interesting. Understood?"
"What is? Benefit. Of doing so."
"...You're asking what's in it for you?"
"Affirmative!"
"For starters, people are going to give you food. You flew a long way—you're hungry and worn out, aren't you? You can rest as much as you like, and eat your fill while you're at it. How's that sound?"
"Proposal, good! Welcome, humans!"
"You mean you'll welcome the humans because it's a good deal?"
"Affirmative!"
Relieved by a goose that laid its words out like items on a list, I went on to teach them the rest, including where they were allowed to relieve themselves. I absolutely could not have the cafe turning into a field of droppings. With the wild geese's bathroom situation handled, I opened at once.
The people who'd been waiting came through the entrance, and the moment they reached the warm interior they looked as if they might actually survive. I caught them before they could scatter.
"Everyone, I'm sorry, but wild geese have turned up on the lawn. I've given them a quick briefing, so a bit of a feeding experience should be fine! Just use the feed we keep for the geese!"
"Ooh! Wild geese means migratory birds!"
They'd looked impatient to see the animals the moment I stopped them, but at that they brightened and bolted straight for the lawn, where close to a hundred wild geese had already settled in. Marveling at the sight, the crowd then stampeded for the vending machines—the snacks the geese ate were kinds the wild geese could eat as well.
"To think the day would come when I fed a wild goose."
One by one, people started offering goose snacks to the wild geese. Plenty still faithfully fed their own favorite animals, of course, but just as many sought the wild geese out with the air of if not now, then when? A few brave souls even carried snacks into the middle of the flock and scattered them over their own bodies. They yelped as the birds pecked away, yet never took their attention off the photos their friends were taking.
Watching them beam about having scored pictures for Outstar, I decided that startling as the whole thing had been, the wild geese's arrival wasn't such a bad turn after all. The geese themselves seemed rather pleased to have what you might call their cousins drop by, and So-eun looked delighted to meet a new kind of animal.
"My poooooool!"
Amid all that general satisfaction, the only animal that did not welcome the wild geese was Pe-eng. It couldn't be helped—they'd occupied the pool, which was more or less his main territory. Sniffling under the heat lamp, he finally couldn't bear the heartbreak and started swimming on the floor, slapping his wings against the ground with wet flops until he lay sprawled there.
"Hang in there."
I gave him a pat, told him to hang in there, and offered him his favorite food.
"Just hold on a little. They won't stay forever. And you haven't even been going in the pool lately, have you? It's too cold."
"I knooow..."
Even so, the regret must have lingered. Pe-eng kept sneaking glances at the pool between bites. Seriously—what was he, a miser? I shook my head at the absurd little penguin and spent the time the way I always did, looking after the cafe and the animals in general.
Then the hours drifted by, and around two o'clock something unusual happened.
"Suhwan. Look over there."
Noona and I had been idling over tea on what passed for a break when she tapped my forearm. I turned where she pointed and felt that same bewilderment all over again.
"Never thought I'd see a camera like that in our cafe."
A guest carrying what people commonly call a cannon—a camera sporting an enormous lens—was photographing the wild geese. After a few shots he walked right up to them and began observing the birds as if he were conducting a study.
"Boss. Annoying. Allowed? Hit, human."
"Endure. Forbidden. Contract. Food. Delicious."
"Nngh."
Oblivious to how close he'd come to being struck by an irritated goose, he wove eagerly through the flock, observing with great dedication. Starting with him, several people of the same sort turned up, and I realized they were researchers who studied migratory birds.
"Sir. We're a research team specializing in migratory birds. We saw on Outstar that wild geese had come here, so we came as well. Do you happen to know why those geese settled at this cafe? Ordinarily they appear a bit farther off than this, so we're extremely curious."
For a moment I wondered whether I ought to tell them the truth. But they were researchers, and so I decided to give it to them straight.
"They say they came because they saw So-eun. She's so lovely, they figured they'd rest here and heal their hearts just watching her..."
"Hee!"
As if she knew she was the subject, So-eun shot her hand into the air, and the research team looked as though they'd lost the power of speech. They stood mute for a moment, then came back to themselves looking strangely drained, took nearly a thousand photographs of the wild geese, and left. I felt oddly guilty.
I saw them again before long, though, and that guilt was wiped clean away. Once the wild geese had rested and departed as a flock, other birds took their place. The geese had spread the word to birds they met on the way, and the researchers came back wearing bright, innocent faces to see the newcomers drawn in by the rumor.
"And what kind of birds are those..."
"A migratory species called the Eurasian spoonbill. They're exceedingly rare to see in this country, and they're registered as a natural monument. For us, being able to observe them this close is nothing short of a blessing."
I nodded along to the explanation from a man who looked like a professor with a university research team, and sighed all the same. This isn't a migratory bird sanctuary. Why do they keep showing up?
Thanks to it all, nearly as many bird researchers as ordinary guests were finding their way to the cafe. Every one of them arrived with something to record notes on, or a cannon of a camera, and stood there watching the birds. It was getting hard to tell whether this was a cafe or some annex of an avian research lab, and I couldn't very well chase the lot of them out.
"Waaah! Gimme my pool baaack!"
I sighed as I soothed Pe-eng, who still couldn't let go of his occupied pool. To make it worse, these particular birds could eat the very snacks he ate, and his misery ran all the deeper for it. Of course he was wretched, watching his treats vanish into the bills of strangers who had no business eating them.
I had a feeling I was going to start hating winter. Or, more precisely, the season when the migratory birds came.