Intex Recreation Color Reef Snapset Pool 58461EPI'm ever alert to the emotional needs of those friends that are near and dear to me. If someone falls into a grey grasp of despair, I'm ninja quick with the hugs, expertly wielding my arms like deadly comforting weapons. Whenever news worthy of celebration is in the air, I am there with high fives holstered and ready action. These aren't qualities uniquely owned within my circles. Who amongst us deserves the title of "Friend" if we fail to rally behind our loved ones as the return triumphant, or stand boldly before them, shielding wounded hearts and mending scars after fierce battles were lost.
Our relationships define us. They are the fabric that our lives tapestry is woven from. One long and treasured story spun with yarns of truth and lost moments that
The three geese that I've been closest to, all have been dear friends to me. Their behaviors stand true to these definitions of Friendship. At times drawing close to nestle long necks in comfort. Warming our hearts with cheer every time we return, racing out to greet us with cackles of "hello, here I am, where were you".
Always first to charge when danger lurks near, even if it's size is great compared to the 3 feet stature of waterfowl, they rush out to oppose the UPS delivery truck that has come a bit to near the fence. Calling in loud triumph as the lumbering brown beast slinks back towards the main road. Confident in their abilities to protect us from any wayward eBay purchases made late in the night.
Doing with what appendages given them to lend a beak in chores about the yard. Pulling the bucket of water as I bail dirt and water out one of their numerous Walmart splash pools that litter the field like watery footprints left by
an ancient and stumbling dinosaur.
Whatever the cause or adventure our geese are right beside us willing to tough out any storm, as long as we're together. As in all things you get what you give. Friendship with a goose is a low hanging fruit. Perfectly ripe and within reach.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
The Sorting Goose.
A few months or so before now, we had over a dozen truckloads of fill dirt delivered, and dumped unceremoniously into the middle of our goose patrolled field. It consisted of gritty and dark clay, the kind of clumps that adhere to practically anything with a faint musty scent that would never be caught in the florescent glare of the corner boutique. As the weeks passed, and one downpour after the next began to rinse away the muck in a slow and certain rhythm, there appeared shattered and broken stones. Just a few initially, teasing up from the clay's cold grasp, not unlike flotsam adrift at sea after a tempest has passed. Striking in contrast to the muted grays, and rainbows of drab browns which blanketed or once green and vibrant field.
Moments after these jewels appeared, Wyllow set out to see what treasures now lie exposed to the elements. If you ever were to know Wyllow for more than just a day, it becomes rather obvious the passion she holds for river tumbled ore, faceted minerals, oddly weathered rocks and incidental geometric forms that earth can take when hardened into stone. With a worn three gallon bucket in hand, she is out and away to plunder the field.
Always quick to follow Wyllow anywhere an adventure may unfold, Notch and Halvies fall in locked step beside her. As they approach the imposing mounds of mud the two embden geese race ahead, positioning themselves between Wyllow and the freckled foothills that loom an imposing five and a half feet over what was once their green and lush pasture. Unsure if the newly revealed rocks pose a threat or not, they err on the side of protective caution and stand vigilante, guarding Wyllow from these unknowns.
Wyllow not given to hesitation herself, sets upon the nearest pile, excavating earthen trinkets with plum delight. Reluctant and reserved no more, our two white waterfowl begin in earnest to decipher how Wyllow makes her selections between one hard treasure from equally drab next. Trying hard to understand the choices she is making. In so doing, this has sparked a deep and troubled curiosity in Notch's heart. Sharing the passion for minerals that Wyllow harbored as her own. Our goose forgets the proud stances and sets down with a quit concentration, desperate to aide Wyllow in her tasks.
The goose awkwardly lends himself to the chore of sorting, and begins to peruse Wyllow's ever growing cache of river rocks. Many a stone is vetoed from the battered bucket as Notch picks over the chosen ones. Nimble beak pausing at every pebble, weighing it's worth with a logic that doesn't translate to well beyond the whimsy and notions of geese.
This carries on as days ebb and flow into the week. A new strategy soon emerges, rather than keeping his feathered face buried in the buckets, where mind you, there is little advantage to see any particular threats, Notch favors a reorganized approach. One that allows not only a clear view to any present dangers, but a decisive role in what rocks are given the opportunity to even breach the buckets dusty rim. Taken the administrative reins, he positions himself between Wyllow and her treasured trove, haphazardly scattered in the buckets hold.
Now close and careful inspection of the few loose stones in Wyllow's hand provides all the checks and balances needed for their fate to be cast. Feathered eyelids flash above the keen eyes. Each handful measured one by one, his decision leaving little to question whether the earthly antique has passed muster. No longer will a pebble or shard be given rest in the confines of the old buckets walls until it is tasted and rolled in Notch's fiery orange beak. Sorting out the unworthy ones, be it found ill of taste or perhaps their vexing textures, all will be graded by a goose's logic.
Moments after these jewels appeared, Wyllow set out to see what treasures now lie exposed to the elements. If you ever were to know Wyllow for more than just a day, it becomes rather obvious the passion she holds for river tumbled ore, faceted minerals, oddly weathered rocks and incidental geometric forms that earth can take when hardened into stone. With a worn three gallon bucket in hand, she is out and away to plunder the field.
Always quick to follow Wyllow anywhere an adventure may unfold, Notch and Halvies fall in locked step beside her. As they approach the imposing mounds of mud the two embden geese race ahead, positioning themselves between Wyllow and the freckled foothills that loom an imposing five and a half feet over what was once their green and lush pasture. Unsure if the newly revealed rocks pose a threat or not, they err on the side of protective caution and stand vigilante, guarding Wyllow from these unknowns.
Wyllow not given to hesitation herself, sets upon the nearest pile, excavating earthen trinkets with plum delight. Reluctant and reserved no more, our two white waterfowl begin in earnest to decipher how Wyllow makes her selections between one hard treasure from equally drab next. Trying hard to understand the choices she is making. In so doing, this has sparked a deep and troubled curiosity in Notch's heart. Sharing the passion for minerals that Wyllow harbored as her own. Our goose forgets the proud stances and sets down with a quit concentration, desperate to aide Wyllow in her tasks.
The goose awkwardly lends himself to the chore of sorting, and begins to peruse Wyllow's ever growing cache of river rocks. Many a stone is vetoed from the battered bucket as Notch picks over the chosen ones. Nimble beak pausing at every pebble, weighing it's worth with a logic that doesn't translate to well beyond the whimsy and notions of geese.
This carries on as days ebb and flow into the week. A new strategy soon emerges, rather than keeping his feathered face buried in the buckets, where mind you, there is little advantage to see any particular threats, Notch favors a reorganized approach. One that allows not only a clear view to any present dangers, but a decisive role in what rocks are given the opportunity to even breach the buckets dusty rim. Taken the administrative reins, he positions himself between Wyllow and her treasured trove, haphazardly scattered in the buckets hold.
Now close and careful inspection of the few loose stones in Wyllow's hand provides all the checks and balances needed for their fate to be cast. Feathered eyelids flash above the keen eyes. Each handful measured one by one, his decision leaving little to question whether the earthly antique has passed muster. No longer will a pebble or shard be given rest in the confines of the old buckets walls until it is tasted and rolled in Notch's fiery orange beak. Sorting out the unworthy ones, be it found ill of taste or perhaps their vexing textures, all will be graded by a goose's logic.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Attack Goose Security
I currently have two geese, Halvies and Notch, who patrol our yard with a sense of duty that would make any drill sergeant proud. Their heads held high atop graceful necks, ever vigilant for the slightest difference on the 1.3 acres known as home or feather slightly out of place. I would have never thought that a grown man would flee in terror if the our goose patrol seemed taken with the notion of gearing up for a charge. Bearing witness to some dyed in the wool "Manly Men" falling over themselves in terror, calling out with a trembling shriek I had once believed was only found in the B horror movie industry when someone realized the Hounds of Hell have given chase, day in and day out leaves little question to fear that grips their hearts. Men fear geese far more than they do the neighbors pit bulls, or loosing pride even in the eyes of whomever they might be romancing that month.
Nowadays as you near the gate at the end of our driveway, the faint of heart can head the posted warning
CAUTION: AREA PATROLLED BY ATTACK GOOSE SECURITY COMPANY.
Nowadays as you near the gate at the end of our driveway, the faint of heart can head the posted warning
CAUTION: AREA PATROLLED BY ATTACK GOOSE SECURITY COMPANY.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Birds Like Me. Birds Like You.
The more time I spend observing birds, both wild and family, the more they surprise me with behaviors that fall beyond the scope of "Bird Brained". Be it a house goose getting frustrated and impatient, stomping in a huff to the refuse bin, feverishly fishing out loose trash and in a few exaggerated motion, throwing them down to the floor, or sneaking up behind you when your focussed on a task and honking really loud, seemingly taking great delight in startling you.
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