Monday, July 21, 2008

In which we feed the geese

Canada Goose (Gosling), Burnaby Lake Regional ...Image via Wikipedia
Way back in 1995, my family took a day trip to Wheaton Village.  We visited the glass museum, watched the artists at work, window-shopped in the stores, and took the train ride. 

We also had a nice picnic lunch.  Sandwiches, juice boxes, cookies, standard stuff.

As we were eating, a fluffy little gosling, all alone, waddled over to us.  He looked up at us with big, sad eyes, and let out a little, forlorn, "Peep?"

We've fed the ducks -- and geese -- when we've gone back the creek, and they've always been greedy but relatively sedate.

So we threw a little crust of bread the gosling's way.  He gobbled it up cutely, then raised his head and screamed, "HONK!"

All his friends and family came swooping in.  An entire flock of geese swarmed us, demanding tribute.  Vicious things.  One started gnawing on my shoe.  Another actually bit my father on the rear end.  It was as if we had stepped into a Hitchcock film.

Eventually, we started throwing bits of sandwich as hard as we could in one direction, then took our belongings and ran in the opposite direction.  It worked.

By the way, the reason I remember it was 1995?  For dinner that night, we got Happy Meals at McDonald's, and my prize was Ferdinand the Duck from the movie Babe.  Despite Ferdinand being a duck, I deemed the toy a souvenir goose.  (Yes, I was 12.  They were cute and I was a collector. Shut up.)

The good

Lesson learned: Don't feed the geese!

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