Before I continue on with the "goose saga," I need to let you know you never,ever call the geese, "Canadian geese." They are called "Canada geese." You may as well learn the correct term, because one never knows where the little buggers will turn up. (My sister Scarlette and her husband Dave, have their own stories about how to get them off your lake. I have made a little reference to it already, but will not tell you where, as I do not want to incriminate them.) :)

Since I had a short hiatus with no geese flying in except for the one, my heart began to melt toward the others. I felt maybe I had been a little too hard on them, especially the lazy ones. I feel sorry for lazy people! I pictured myself getting out there and putting them through a goose boot camp, but I don't believe they are trainable. They start running from me as soon as I slam the door now. I think I am at least something to contend with these days in the realm of Geesedom.

To get back to the story, the death of the goose took all the vim and vigor out of me for awhile, and just when I thought I was going to renew my quest to rid the yard of geese, I looked out and saw something moving near the pond. I got the binoculars and there, to my utter disbelief, was another goose...a lame one this time, from the way it just stayed in the same place. I wouldn't let Mollie go in the backyard, and ended up calling the goose people again. They recommended I call a rescue group, which I did, and I got a recording. I left my name and number and explained the situation, and waited...and waited...and waited. Someone finally called me back about 2 1/2 days later and listened with great sensitivity. She told me someone would be out to pick it up soon to minister to its needs. No one showed up. The goose seemed to become a lot more restless on day four, and I began to think this might be the last ditch effort to defeat death before it left this life. Just the thought of having Randy to dispose of the goose made me sick. I didn't want to start a goose graveyard in my yard, and I didn't want to just put it in the trashcan. How insensitive would that be? I thought about a burial at pond (as opposed to at sea) but I didn't want the feathers to block the fish's airways, and then I'd be responsible for their demise to boot.

I finally got a phone call on the morning of day five, bright and early, and heard the voice on the other side apologizing for not getting back to me sooner. There had been a mix-up as to who was on call. I told her that I thought it was too late, and made my way to the the window. I couldn't see anything where the goose once sat, so I told her I'd go look. I was a little fearful thinking about what if it had hobbled into the overgrowth next door and was suddenly going to have one last burst of energy to peck me in the eye...so I sent Randy. (I asked him to wear glasses, because his mind doesn't work like mine, and he wasn't seeing the big picture, but he wouldn't, and I couldn't risk him changing his mind if I told him of my concern, because then I would have to do it after all. I committed right then, that if he got hurt, I would be both his eyes for the rest of his life with no complaining.)He came back unscathed and with a negative report. The goose had flown the coup, or Mother Nature had once again taken care of one of its own. No tell-tale goose feathers or parts were found. Meditation: Everyone just needs to take time to "recoup" sometimes. It's good for the soul and may just be the best thing you ever did, or not, but you won't know til you try.

Just when I was ready to declare defeat, the Calvary rushed in, devoid of uniforms, but definitely with a weapon in hand. Our developer had bought a Goose Gun. There must be a better name. It looks like a cap pistol, and once it's shot, there is a delay and then a loud shotgun blast with a spark. Well, that scared the living daylights out of them and sent them on the fly like there was no tomorrow. They circled around a few times, squawking, with their irritation evident, only to land on the other side of the neighborhood on one of the other two ponds. This has gone on the whole summer, and I am happy to say it is working for the most part. I quickly volunteered our yard as a place to shoot from and got to see their reaction firsthand. After about the third day, they began to fly about 60 feet away from the 50 foot pop that emanates once the gun is fired, but they did stop flying in regularly, and that's all I really wanted--a reprieve.

We made it into fall co-existing. They had old home week in the yard this early spring though, when they couldn't shoot the gun, because it was the geese's molting time again. Since they cannot fly during this time (Remember it looks like someone has plucked them to pieces and there are feathers everywhere? Bo made reference to it and the coyotes in an earlier "comment" post.)they were left alone. I thought that was VERY thoughtful of the developers. I had to resort to yelling from the porch again and sending Mollie out on the wild geese chases. She hadn't forgotten what she was supposed to do, but I had a time trying to get her to see the "Guard Goose" who stands guard and squawks directions from a lone position away from the others. He acts tougher than his cohorts and is the LAST to go into the water. He is also the one who stretches himself out and raises up out of the water screaming a death threat to Mollie every time. She just watches in wonder from the shore and then starts sniffing poo piles. (There's one for every flock, by the way, and others play "follow the leader" once the leader starts.)

What once claimed hours of my time, has now become an innocuous pastime I'm happy to say. The ducks have taken the geese's place on the pond and shore, even though I hear them flying overhead sometimes. The ducks just don't seem to be as messy, but stay-tuned, there may be a "Duck Saga" in the works and I don't even know it. Before I close this particular blog, I want to point out a few more meditations in regard to the geese:

1. They either choose their mates wisely or else they have a lot of patience; both are virtues that we should all emulate.

2. They cooperate when it gets down to planning and implementing a trip. (Migration)
Everyone knows what they are to do and they do it with excellence.

3. They are sensitive to life and death.

4. Some of them, just like us, don't know when it's time to GO. These lazy geese have worn out their welcome. I hope it does not hold true: once lazy, always lazy.

5. They seem to have a great sense of balance to their days, and rarely appear to be just wasting time. Eating declines the closer they get to flight time. They know better than to pack all that heavy baggage.

All lessons we could each learn that would make our lives easier and more enjoyable.