Geese. Wonderful geese. When they fly overhead, belching with their throaty cries, they're a wonderful form of life. They don;t drop their turds from the sky. When they fly overhead there is no need to fear their turds. And they are mighty. Mighty fliers, in their echelons, flying up to Canada and back, often taking huge detours it would appear, since we often see them going east or west rather than north or south, sometimes we even see them flying in the wrong direction. Sometimes we see the straggler who has fallen behind flying over hollering frantically, "Hey, wait up! Hey! Wait for me!"
Then there are the geese on the ground. Geese on the ground, near a pond, or in a fallow cornfield. Nice geese. But the geese have been squeezed out of their fallow fields and meadows by the new neighborhoods and indstrial and office complexes. Where the geese have landed and congregated and raised their young from the fuzzy cute little waddling fuzzy babies into goofy-looking kids and then on into adulthood, now there are parking lots and buildings. So the geese often take over the parking lot. The last two places I have worked the geese had taken over the parking lots.
This means goose turds. Big green goose turds everywhere. Nasty turds. And waddling coughing geese in gangs wandering the parking lots. And they will attack! Have you ever seen geese charge each other? They put their heads down, with their neck curled in on itself, thus protecting that long liability, and they come charging at one another, running faster than anyone thought their little legs could go. And when they charge their waddling goofy gait is gone. They come stright on, hollering thier war cry. If they catch the other goose they clamp onto them with their beak and hold on until the other party can wrest theirself free. People say that a goose will charge a person the same way, including curious and playful children who molest the geese out of friendly curiosity and fascination. They say many a youngster has been left crying and frightened with a welp on their person from a goose who did not share the child's friendly intentions.
I have thought about how to defend myself should a goose charge me, since I have a habit of walking at a group of geese from an angle, chasing them in this quasi-agressive way from the parking lot, using a Boris Carloff type voice to give them trepidation and to make them know that this is an unknown and possibly agressive assailant they are dealing with, saying, "Filthy creatures! Go on and sit down somewhere you filthy creatures! Take your nasty green turds over in to the briars and brambles, no one wants you here, filthy creatures!" At first I figured that the best way to deal with a charging goose would be to crouch down and hold out one hand for them to lunge at and with the other hand grab their neck when they got close enough, then carry them, squirming and trying to craned their neck, flapping and crapping wildly, carry them out of sight of others (this is the workplace after all) and then grab their neck with theother hand and twist, horribly crunching thier neck-bones and gristle in a murderous wring ing motion as they shouted their most horrible and starnge shout.
Terrible behavior! Horrible goose-killer! If you have such intentions you should not try to discourage them from the lot. That's cold-blooded. Maybe. But there are so many geese these days they need a predator. A predator not with teeth and claws and a yowling bark, but with opposing thumbs and a cry of, "Filthy creature!"
Since then my theory has evolved. Perhaps the mano-a-mano approach would be foolish. After all, the goose is a strong and purposeful creature. The goose may out-maneuver me and bite my arms and face, causing me to flee. That would be no good. I'm supposed to be the one chasing the goose, after all! So, the new theory is to use my size and the reach and power of the feet and legs of our human species to deliver a vicious kick to the charging goose. It would be interesting to see what a kicked goose might do. would it re-group and charge again! Would the bevvy of geese rally and charge in unison with a horrible chorus of cries? Things could get ugly. One might find one's self trying to kick at a relentless mass of biting geese-beaks, too many to handle, and then have to flee, with the geese charging after, their heads bent low in aggression. Best to put everthing into that kick and be as aggressive as possible, hoping to discourage the goose. Primacy. Then in days to come, when they see me coming they will flee! I will be mighty! But really i try to avoid direct confrontation. When I discourage them I come from an oblique angle and walk slowly. They generally move away, waddling with dignity and oggling me side-wise.
The other day i made an observation that was most amusing. It was a hot day and I went to my truck on my lunch break to vent the heat from the truck and relax a bit. A gaggle of about eight geese were making their way across the grassy strip adjacent to the parking lot, out on the edge of the lot where my truck is parked. They were waddling slowly, quietly, oppressed by the heat. And they all had their mouths open and thier tongues protruding in a strange fashion. "Maybe someone has poisoned them!" I thought. They made it to a small shady area and stopped to rest. I then saw them flick their heads to propel the sweat from their tongues! They were sweating inthe manner of a dog! And they wanted to get as much perspiration out as they could; not waiting for the sweat to drip off their nasty tongues, but flicking it off. It was so strange to see panting geese letting their tongues fly. They looked so silly with their tongues hanging out.
COPYRIGHT 2004 DOUGLAS CLOUD ALL RIGHTS RESERVED