Real-life 'Mother Goose' frets over disappearance of loved bird

She knows what people probably think: It's just a goose. It's not like it's a kidnapped girl, stolen in the middle of the night, a distraught family pleading on TV, posters up everywhere for months. Lucy is no Elizabeth Smart.

Still, Lisa Kalantzes is bereft. "Stolen," say the posters she has made. They show a bird with a mottled beak and one inscrutable eye facing the camera. "Lucy. $200 reward. Owner is DEVASTATED."

Her friends call Kalantzes "Mother Goose," and it is not a title Kalantzes takes lightly. Kalantzes has visited Lucy nearly every day for the past two years, in rain and snow, through weeks of nesting, bringing along an umbrella and bags of leaves for the nest, sitting with her day after day. Lucy doesn't have a mate to watch out for her. Kalantzes, then, is both mate and mother.

Now Lucy's eggs are missing too.

Some boys called Wednesday evening to tell Kalantzes the news. The boys, like a lot of people who live near Lucy's pond — in the Old Farm condos and the Fox Point apartments next door — know Kalantzes by now, even though she lives miles away. The boys, knowing nothing about water fowl or nesting habits, were excited that Lucy and her babies were apparently off on some new adventure. But Kalantzes knew better.

Now it is Thursday morning.

Kalantzes hasn't slept all night. In the house she shares with her mother she has been pacing, crying, making posters, wondering who would steal a goose and its eggs. Shortly after 9, Kalantzes arrives at Old Farm with a heavy heart and a bag of supplies: the posters, nails, a hammer, duct tape. She is met by two Old Farm residents, Kathleen and Chris Blodgett, who are also fans of Lucy.

They talk about a strategy: Put up posters, talk to the management and other residents. "I also want to look in the Dumpsters," Kalantzes says, her mouth tight.

"Oh, oh, oh," says Kathleen Blodgett.

The first clue

They go to the management office. "You know the goose who lives here? Lucy?" Kalantzes begins. "I'm her mom."

It turns out that Forrest Mason, the building manager, saw a man in a white truck take Lucy off in a cage, about 1:35 p.m. on Wednesday. Mason is certain of the time because he was just going off to pick up his daughter from school.