Oiling goose eggs in theory is one thing. Facing a pair of honking, hissing geese defending their nest is another. Gulp.

Last year, Ruth Rosenstein and I met with Mike Bogart, a seasoned outdoorsman and kayak instructor, who is also a code enforcement officer in Great Neck Estates. Although we had attended the Geese Peace lecture, we were a tad nervous about actual encounters with the feathered critters. We wanted to see someone experienced in action. We found the right guy. Mike has been oiling eggs for three years and coupled with the village's border collie program has begun to see a leveling off in the flocks there. He even paddles out in Little Neck Bay to find their nests in the reeds.

Mike was full of stories about the geese saying, "Geese are strong. Their necks are all muscle. An aggressive goose can whack you with its beak hard enough to break your forearm bone." Er, that's a little more graphic and grisly than what we had been told. "They can be aggressive, but they only weigh 10 pounds and remember, they don't have teeth." Well, at least that was comforting, toothless, eh. Was the day getting warmer suddenly or was it the rush of adrenaline that made me start fanning myself with my clipboard?

We were all set. Check list: umbrella, clipboard, official forms for reporting where and when and how many eggs were oiled, corn oil (why corn oil instead of the more healthy olive oil, you might ask...maybe it smells better to the geese, just guessing), bucket, water, latex gloves, permanent marker, paper towels, what else? Binoculars. A quick exit route. Ruth had remembered gear that I had forgotten, a comforting reminder that partnerships, when they work, are great.

As Grace Kelly said to Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, "You have to dress properly for the occasion." Ruth, a Wilderness volunteer who periodically heads off to wild places to work on trail maintenance, already had waterproof, professional looking boots. I didn't want to get my nice hiking boots with heavy-duty tread jammed with goose poop. I had gotten a tip that Wellies were for sale at Filene's Basement in spring colors yet. Evidently there was a rush on size 8 boots, which is how I ended up with pink, faux leopard print boots. Maybe I wouldn't even need the umbrella to scare the geese away from their nest.

We had been given permission from the mayor of the Village of Kensington, Bonnie Golub, to go on an egg hunt on their park property that borders Manhasset Bay. "Be our guests," were her exact words. First, we went scouting. Mike said, "The telltale sign that a nest is around is a lone male standing sentinel." As we walked gingerly on the muddy bank next to a small brook that flows into the bay, we dodged vines and brambles and finally emerged onto a large open field, property belonging to Manhasset Lakeville Fire and Water District. As luck would have it, we spotted a goose on a nest, but we did not have permission from Manhasset-Lakeville to mess with their eggs, so we opted instead to call their office and give them a heads-up.

We made our way back to the Kensington property and saw a nest that had no eggs yet. Making note of the location, we resolved to return on another day.

Our first actual egg oiling was a heart-thumping affair. Ruth took on the job of distracting the geese. As I knelt to check the viability of the eggs in the water bucket (if they float the gosling is forming and it's too late to oil the egg under the Geese Peace rules) I realized how important it is to have an alert, trusty partner who's good with an umbrella. Okay, my hands were trembling a little bit, but the eggs sunk so I gave them a good greasing and eased them back into the nest. I did experience a moment of a rather unexpected pleasure, feeling the eggs, so warm, so newly laid, so ... spring in an ellipsoid. But it was only a moment's pause and then I reminded myself that the cute gosling stage is fleeting in the inexorable march toward the survival of the species. And as has been stated before: Endangered, they ain't.

We stayed to watch the pair as they reclaimed their nest. The gander kept a beady eye on us watching for further intrusions while the goose repositioned the eggs to her liking. Throughout, Mike cheered us on with helpful hints about outwitting the geese.

Another volunteer, Robin Gordon, an avid birder, joined us in later egg hunts. For our first season, we oiled nine eggs. While that does not sound like much of a feat, when you consider how prolifically geese reproduce, we may have prevented thousands of geese from totally taking over some green open space 20 years from now.

We mucked around on one waterfront property in Kings Point through a virtual forest of Phragmites and found nary a nest, but we did not consider it a loss because we were soaking in the view and surrendering to the smells and wiles of a spring day. Another day we tramped along the shoreline on Manhasset Bay watching the herons and egrets swoop in for an evening meal and talked with a fisherman who's seen the changing of the Bay and the type and numbers of fish caught. We had a feeling of being behind the scenes of Great Neck viewing the place from the water that surrounds us.

This year, the Gaggle of Gals, as we have dubbed ourselves, is primed to go addling into the wilds again. Have oil; will travel.