The Gosling and Me
I was once chased by a crazed gosling.
I was walking with Az the Husband through our favorite cemetery (yes, we have a favorite cemetery). It goes on for acres, full of trees and ponds, populated with the restful dead and assorted wildfowl.
I was kneeling down for some reason, maybe to read a gravestone, and I looked underneath a large cedar tree. There it was, ugly and covered with fuzz, a grey and gawky gosling. It raised its long neck and stared at me. For just a moment, our eyes met and held.
Then it ran right at me.
Boink! It ran into my ankles. I hopped away, trying not to step on it. It ran again. Boink! It was making that hungry baby bird sound. I raced off. It followed.
For the next ten minutes, I ran away from the gosling. I ran over a footbridge to a tiny island that held a columbarium for urns. The gosling raced after me, pattering after me on the bridge and heaving itself at me on the little island. I hopped again, and as the gosling looked around at the tiny island I yelled, “Run!” to Az, and we raced back over the bridge, into our car and drove away.
The little thing was still racing around when we left. Possibly still looking for me.
I wonder sometimes what became of it. Did it believe I was its mother? Did it grow up to become a healthy, well-adjusted goose? Was its early experience of species confusion the beginning of a long life of rejection and humiliation at the hands of goosekind?
I don’t suppose I’ll ever know.
Marketing Mama
Have you ever read “Are you my Mother?” — it’s about a little bird who can’t find his Mother and asks everything it can find if they are his mother - a cat, a cow, a car, a boat, etc. You should go buy it… great story!
Veronica Mitchell
MM, my one-year-old has claimed that as her favorite book. She asks me to read it almost every day. Maybe there’s just something in our genes.
Elle
Not being a goose whisperer I have no idea on its possible mental health. But personally, I’m going to sleep tonight reciting the syllabic melodies of “columbarium”. Who says blogging isn’t educational?
Donna W
The moral of the story: Sometimes you just don’t know who to follow, so you follow whomever is at hand.
Tonggu Momma
Reading this story, I have one question — what did Az say when you made it safely into the car? I know I would have been fodder for the Husband’s jokes for at least a few days.
Veronica Mitchell
TM, I don’t remember him teasing me once we were in the car, but I do remember his reluctance when I told him to run.
suburbancorrespondent
I feel that way with my toddler sometimes…
Sue
See, you are all assuming that the gosling was not EVIL.
I think it was trying to EAT you.
Becky
Sounds like the little guy hatched when momma goose was away and he imprinted on the first creature that made eye contact. Yep, I think he thought you were his momma and he was looking to get fed. LOL!
Julie
What a sweet, funny, sad story. And thanks for columbarium.
andrea_jennine
Just be thankful that the mama and papa geese weren’t around. There are 2 sets of geese that nest around the pond next to our apartment, and they are MEAN to anyone who walks within 10 feet of their gosling brood!
becky
Geese are indeed mean! We have some on our property and if we go anywhere near them to retrieve our own stuff, they chase us and hiss and wildly flap their wings. I’m not sure how were going to get our lawn mowed this summer since they hang out by the lawn tractor. It’s enough to make this nature lover want to stay indoors!
Jeana
Ack! Your new posts are not showing up in my feed. I just wandered over to read your archives because I was missing you so much and here you are, writing behind my back.
To convey my forgiveness, I will now share my goose story. It’s no match for yours, which had me feeling thankful that I’ve learned not to drink anything while reading your blog.
We were at the park with a group of people from church; a park which is home to many ducks and geese. One little girl ran up to her Daddy, looking nervous: “Daddy, where’s the bad duck? Have you seen him?”
“Is she talking about the geese?” I asked.
“That big one with the thing on his head?” he answered.
“Yes,” I told him, “Those are geese. Several of them live here.”
The next time his daughter ran up, having spotted one of them, he educated her: “That’s a geese, honey. And the female is called a goose.”
Jeana
…And that would be because I hadn’t added your new address to Bloglines. Don’t worry–I added “a clue” to my grocery list.
Pieces
My take-away from this story is that you have irresistible ankles.
Minnesotamom
Pieces–funny stuff. Like irresistible grace, only…different.
Antique Mommy
I’m terrified of anything with feathers. Just thought I’d share that.