We live surrounded by the chirping of birds, the crowing of roosters, the mooing of cows and calves and the chattering of a horse that travels along the gravel road.
Cats, dogs, geese and pigeons were raised in my house; My uncles and my grandmother were fascinated by birds and had aviaries in their house; big bulls and when I visited them, they allowed me to put pieces of bananas, split oranges, lettuce and fresh tomatoes.
The animals were part of the house and their care helped us form a sense of responsibility towards them.
They were loved ones, because each animal, whether cat, duck or parakeet; squirrel or dog, had its own personality, tastes and food predilections. The animal chose its favorite corner in the house and also chose a person as its special master.
The animals took our free time with their games, singing, affection and company.
In our houses full of flowers, the children also cooperated with the care of the garden and we had to be self-denial when it didn't rain in summer, and the earth was dry, to water all those pots full of begonias, ferns, and vines so that they wouldn't die. . silk.
My father's birthday was April 17 and often coincided with Easter. His best friend was Don Alfredo Echandi, who had his birthday on the same day and we often celebrated it together at his farm in Sarapiquí.
My grandfather said that the frightened mothers had given birth on the same day that the repercussions of the San Francisco earthquake were felt in Costa Rica.
This time, when I was 14 or 15 years old and we went to spend the long-awaited season with Tío Alfredo and Maruja Echandi, in the wooden house in Sarapiquí, there was a nice surprise: a goose had just hatched seven geese. They started walking through the garden and she was furious and wouldn't let us get closer. Two days later he sent them swimming in the ditch that ran next to the house. The current was too strong and several drowned. Uncle Alfredo, indignant at the goose that was so stubborn in continuing to put the geese into the current of the ditch, asked the Mandador to pick them up. There were only two left and I asked the guy to give me one. Of course, take it, because everyone is going to die here, he told me.
After Easter, we returned to San José and I came, sitting in the back of the car, with the goose curled up in my lap.
I called her Pánfila, and Pánfila drank coffee with milk from my cup and loved the little pieces of wet bread.
When it grew up, it changed its fluff and became a beautiful goose with gray plumage. I swam in the lake in front of my father's house where there were also ducks, white carracos and pechiches, which are rice ducks, brown in color and with orange legs. She became the protective mother of all the lake's occupants. But even though he was already a huge goose, he never forgot about me: when he saw me, he would come to greet me and let me caress his neck, making little chirps of satisfaction. He followed me around the garden as if I were a little dog, and he liked to lie down in the grass next to me when I was painting.
One afternoon, my father brought two beautiful white swans to also live on the lake. This was the beginning of a whole revolt, because the swans were proud and territorial and began by intimidating the pechiches and carracos. They wanted to drown them! Pamphila flew into fury: all the feathers on her neck stood on end and opening her enormous wings she faced the two swans. We were here first, he seemed to say, and in a water race, he chased them away to the other end of the lake.
Thus began an all-out feud: every time the male swan, who was the most aggressive, tried to mistreat a carraco, Pánfila came to his defense and the pechiches booed, making a fuss with their shrill little voices. After running him to the other end of the lake, he returned with his wings spread and squawked in victory.
Years later, Pánfila disappeared a week before Christmas. We missed her very much and never found her body. Maybe it was flying. Maybe it ended up on some table; We don't know, but we always remember her with immense affection and admiration.