No wonder that Canada Goose from a few days ago was chasing me off.
These little goslings were probably somewhere close.
But here, I'm chasing him off!
I'm surprized I could get this close. Correction; I'm surprized they let me get that close.
Okay, confession....
I'm actually tucked safely in behind the cafeteria window at work.
Or these two would have been all over me!
Earlier, they were all parading right along the window. Those seven tiny goslings are just little balls of yellow fluff. Lots of folks peering at them.
And papa was right up at that window. Neck stuck out, looking up at us.
"Make my day." Pretty fierce protectors.
And I have first hand knowledge of this, too.
[Spoiler alert: if you don't want to read about the author being shown in a bad light, please stop reading.]
A few years ago I was at the zoo and came across some geese. And the one big one was looking right at me.
So I zigged to go around him. Unbeknownst to me, I zigged towards their nest. He took two or three steps towards me.
I zigged again, even closer to the nest.
Then he came right at me, wings flapping and beak squawking.
As I started to run he was right on me, and I started kicking back.
I heard a little girl say, "Daddy, why is the man kicking the goosey?"
It wasn't pretty. Not pretty at all.
And these birds are pretty smart, too.
As I was coming in today, they were all on the other side of the road, lined up in a row. And before crossing, Ma checked both directions.
A car was coming, so she stayed up on the curb. As soon as the car went by, away they went. All in a row.
Then another car came steaming along. And Ma stopped. The car stopped. Ma checked the runner and then they all proceeded to the other side. And paraded along the window.
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4 comments:
After all, what do we know about parenthood.
Jim...in your retirement, perhaps you should write a book about what it is that makes you tick. A fascinating read, no doubt.
I suspect you would have a few interesting chapters yourself, Mr. W.
...Thats quite a mother goose story. How lovely.
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