A while back I mentioned that I recently acquired my newest arch nemesis in David Hasselhoff. The back story is somewhat complicated involving my 5yr old niece and how drive-thru window attendants frequently mistake me for a woman, but if you want filled in you can go here and scroll to number 5. I don’t really want to fan this flame with Hasselhoff though because he has done so much good for society with fighting crime along side a talking car, lifeguarding Los Angeles beaches, and most importantly single handedly bringing down the Berlin wall.
I more want to focus on my oldest, most bitter enemy, Goose. Not Goose from Top Gun, I loved that guy. And also, *SPOILER ALERT* he died. Moment of silence… No, I’m talking about the flying water bird that preys on whatever innocent stuff Goose eats. I’m not familiar enough with geese to know what they eat, but geese are savages so I bet whatever it is, it’s innocent and cuddly. Probably puppies.
My rivalry with Goose dates back to when I was about 6 years old. I was on a leisure stroll on a walking trail beside the lake with my dad. I’m sure he was walking to lower his cholesterol or something while I was walking to explore the world. In my exploration I came across something I had never seen before. It looked like several eggs being kept outside in some sort of homemade wicker basket rather than in a carton inside a refrigerator. I was intrigued, so I decided to investigate. It didn’t end well, as you can see here:
Ok, so the goose probably didn’t have a holstered gun, samurai sword strapped to his back, and laser beams for eyes. But, I’m pretty sure he did talk like a pirateMy second encounter with the goose was chronicled here in a post from last May. I’ll just copy and paste all the relevant information below because unlike the goose, I’m thoughtful of others:
“As I pulled onto our street I noticed from about three houses away that there was something in the middle of our driveway. I couldn’t tell what it was until I pulled up beside it. Goose poop. There was goose poop in my driveway. None of the other neighbors had goose poop in their driveways, so I knew it wasn’t a coincidence. The weirdest thing about this is there are no bodies of water even remotely close to our neighborhood. Don’t geese live near water? Then I remembered a set of railroad tracks about a half mile away, so I can only imagine this Goose Assassin hopped a car in Canada, traveled south, and jumped off in our town just to leave me this present in the driveway. You have to admire that type of dedication.”
My most recent run-in with Goose happened a few weeks ago, when I thought it would be a good idea to take Ada to a nearby park so she could feed the ducks. Little did I know, I was leading my little girl into a war zone.
We arrived at the park and it seemed peaceful enough. There was an old man wearing a sweatband walking circles around the pond, a father teaching his son how to fish, and a portly gentleman sitting at a picnic table with a notepad and what appeared to be every national newspaper ever printed. Ada and I grabbed our bag of old, stale hotdog buns and headed for the water’s edge. Ada could barely contain her excitement, screaming “Here we are ducks!” as she bounded ahead of me. “Be careful, Ada!” I shouted as I broke into a gentle trot to catch up to her.
We topped the hill and suddenly our perfect dream of a daddy daughter bonding afternoon turned into a nightmare. Swimming around in the water below, I could see about 2 ducks for every 15 geese. I think there were probably so many more geese than ducks because the geese ate the ducks for snacks. I wanted to turn around and leave right then but I knew Ada would be devastated, so we marched on. No sooner than we got to the bottom of the hill, we were surrounded by geese. They were rudely honking at us to give them the hot dog buns and my wallet.
Meanwhile Ada was oblivious, she was laughing and skipping about despite the geese encircling us as if we were about to be jumped into their Goose Gang. I gave her the bag of hotdog buns so she could throw little pieces out while I held out my pocket knife daring the geese to get closer. It was like Indiana Jones fending off all those snakes with his torch in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Ada finally threw her last piece and I snatched her up and took off running carrying her under my arm like a football as she yelled, “Bye bye ducks!”
I was happy to make it out of there alive. I was also happy knowing those geese had to scrounge around for what little food they could find just hoping someone else would come along and toss them some scraps, while I left to go eat a cheeseburger.
Whatever Goose, natural selection says I win.
Have you ever sparred with a goose?
The Archived Post Relevant The Office Quote.
Dwight: Lonely people mixing with one another, breeding, creating and even lonelier generation. You're not allowing natural selection to do its work. You're like the guy who invented seatbelts.
