One town’s scheme to get rid of its geese

The Great Goose War: How One Bay Area Town Is Using High-Tech Gadgets to Evict 300 Feathered Intruders

On a crisp February afternoon in Foster City, California, the battle lines are drawn—not between armies, but between humans and geese. As the sun glints off the calm waters of the lagoon, a flock of Canada geese grazes lazily on the manicured lawns near the dog park. To the untrained eye, it’s a peaceful suburban scene. But to residents and city officials, it’s the front line of a long-standing, messy, and surprisingly high-tech conflict.

“Pull over!” I command my brother, spotting our feathered targets. Among them, one goose stands out—a sleek bird with a white GPS collar snug around its neck. This isn’t just any goose. It’s a data point. A target. A symbol of a $400,000 experiment in urban wildlife management. Foster City, a quiet Bay Area enclave of 33,000 people, is waging war on its feathered neighbors—not with bullets or traps, but with drones, lasers, border collies, and artificial intelligence.

And the geese? They’re not going down without a fight.

A Town Overrun by Feathers and Feces

Foster City’s goose problem isn’t new. For decades, Canada geese have been a constant presence, drawn to the town’s network of lagoons, parks, and lush green spaces. With no natural predators and an abundance of food, their population has ballooned to an estimated 300 birds—roughly one goose for every 110 residents. To put that in perspective, that’s a higher goose-to-human ratio than in many rural farming communities.

The issue isn’t just aesthetic. Goose droppings—each bird produces up to two pounds per day—coat sidewalks, parks, and schoolyards in a slippery, bacteria-laden sludge. The waste carries pathogens like E. coli, Salmonella, and Campylobacter, posing a genuine public health risk. At Foster City Middle School, students once had to navigate a gauntlet of goose poop just to reach the playground. “It was like a minefield,” recalls one parent. “You couldn’t take ten steps without stepping in it.”

Even more frustrating for residents is the geese’s territorial behavior. During nesting season, these normally docile birds become fiercely aggressive, chasing joggers, hissing at children, and even blocking driveways. My own grandmother once found a family of geese waddling into her garage, only to leave five minutes later—unscathed, unapologetic, and utterly unbothered.

Why Killing Isn’t an Option

For years, the city considered a more direct solution: culling. In 2021, officials proposed euthanizing 100 geese to reduce the population. But the plan sparked immediate backlash from animal rights groups and environmental advocates. Protesters gathered outside city hall, holding signs that read “Geese Are Not Garbage” and “Humane Solutions Now.” The outcry was so intense that the city ultimately abandoned the cull.

“We heard the community loud and clear,” says a city spokesperson. “People don’t want to see animals killed, especially not in a suburban neighborhood.”

This dilemma isn’t unique to Foster City. Across the U.S., municipalities are grappling with how to manage overabundant wildlife without resorting to lethal methods. In Chicago, officials use egg addling—a process of coating goose eggs with oil to prevent hatching—to control populations in parks. In New York City, the Parks Department employs a combination of habitat modification and harassment techniques to keep geese away from beaches and ballfields.

But Foster City wanted something more innovative. Something scalable. Something that could adapt in real time.

Enter Wildlife Innovations.

The High-Tech Goose War Room

In 2023, Foster City awarded a $397,000 contract to Wildlife Innovations, a California-based firm specializing in non-lethal wildlife conflict resolution. The company’s mandate: make Foster City so uncomfortable for geese that they’ll choose to leave—on their own.

The strategy, dubbed “hazing,” is rooted in behavioral science. Geese are creatures of habit. They return to the same feeding and roosting sites daily, feeling safe and undisturbed. The goal is to disrupt that sense of security—repeatedly and unpredictably—until the birds decide the area is no longer worth the hassle.

But how do you haze 300 geese across seven parks, 365 days a year?

That’s where the tech comes in.

Cameras mounted on tree trunks and lampposts now monitor key goose hotspots around the clock. These aren’t your average security cameras. They’re equipped with AI-powered image recognition software that can distinguish geese from ducks, dogs, or even plastic bags caught in the wind. When a goose is detected, the system sends an alert to a biologist at Wildlife Innovations’ headquarters in San Jose.

Within minutes, a response team is dispatched. One member might deploy a drone that emits distress calls of other geese. Another might shine a green laser beam across the grass—geese perceive it as a predator’s eyes. And then there’s Rocky, the border collie, whose mere presence sends geese scattering. “He doesn’t bite or attack,” explains Dan Biteman, senior wildlife biologist and head of the project. “He just stares. And geese hate being stared at.”

The Goosinator: A Gadget for Every Goose

Among the most controversial tools in the arsenal is the Goosinator—a remote-controlled, all-terrain vehicle designed to look and sound like a predator. With a menacing black shell, glowing red eyes, and a speaker that plays recorded hawk and fox calls, the Goosinator patrols parks at dawn and dusk, when geese are most active.

“It’s basically a robotic nightmare for geese,” Biteman says with a grin. “They don’t know what it is, but they know they don’t like it.”

The device is part of a broader trend in wildlife management: using robotics and AI to simulate natural threats. Similar systems are being tested to deter elephants from raiding crops in Africa and to keep bears away from campgrounds in Montana. In San Francisco, officials have experimented with “coyote robots” that patrol parks and emit ultrasonic sounds to scare off urban predators.

But the Goosinator has drawn mixed reactions. Some residents love it. “It’s like something out of a sci-fi movie,” says one local. “I saw it chasing geese at Gull Park and almost called the police.” Others worry it’s overkill. “It’s a goose, not a terrorist,” argues a critic on the city’s community forum.

Still, early results are promising. Since the program launched, goose sightings in treated parks have dropped by nearly 60%, according to city data. Fecal contamination has decreased, and residents report fewer aggressive encounters.

The Ethics of High-Tech Harassment

As Foster City’s experiment gains attention, it raises broader questions about the ethics of wildlife management in an urbanizing world. Is it fair to use technology to make animals’ lives miserable? Where do we draw the line between coexistence and control?

Experts say the key is balance. “Hazing isn’t about cruelty,” says Dr. Laura Hernandez, a wildlife ecologist at UC Davis. “It’s about teaching animals that certain areas are no longer safe. It’s a form of behavioral conditioning, not punishment.”

Still, the approach isn’t without risks. Overuse of drones or lasers could stress geese to the point of affecting their health or migration patterns. And there’s always the possibility that geese will adapt—becoming desensitized to the very tools designed to scare them.

“Wildlife is incredibly adaptable,” warns Hernandez. “What works today might not work tomorrow. We have to stay one step ahead.”

A Model for the Future?

Foster City’s goose war may seem like a local oddity, but it’s part of a growing national conversation about human-wildlife conflict. As cities expand into natural habitats, encounters with animals are becoming more frequent—and more fraught.

In Montana, ranchers use GPS-collared “range riders” to monitor grizzly bears and prevent livestock attacks. In Tanzania, conservationists deploy drones to track elephant herds and alert villages before they enter farmland. Even in suburban backyards, homeowners are turning to motion-activated sprinklers and ultrasonic repellents to keep deer, raccoons, and yes, geese, at bay.

Foster City’s experiment could serve as a blueprint. If the tech-driven hazing program succeeds, other towns may follow suit—investing in smart cameras, robotic deterrents, and trained dogs to manage wildlife without violence.

But success isn’t guaranteed. Geese are smart, resilient, and deeply rooted in their routines. And for every goose that leaves, another might take its place.

The Human Side of the Story

Behind the gadgets and GPS trackers, there’s a deeper truth: this isn’t just about geese. It’s about how we share space with other species in an increasingly crowded world.

For some residents, the geese are a beloved part of the community. “They’re part of the scenery,” says Maria Lopez, a longtime Foster City resident. “I feed them bread sometimes. They’re just trying to live.”

For others, they’re a menace. “I can’t let my kids play outside without worrying about slipping on poop,” says another parent. “Something has to change.”

The city’s approach—high-tech, humane, and data-driven—attempts to honor both perspectives. It’s not about eradication. It’s about coexistence, on terms that work for everyone.

As I watch a GPS-collared goose waddle across the lawn, I can’t help but wonder: Who’s really in charge here? The humans with their drones and cameras? Or the geese, stubborn, adaptable, and utterly unbothered by our attempts to scare them away?

One thing’s for sure: the battle for Foster City isn’t over. But for the first time in decades, there’s hope—that peace, however fragile, might finally be within reach.

This article was curated from One town’s scheme to get rid of its geese via MIT Technology Review