Two JuicyGoose Stories

Is a goose anything other than a non-albino swan?


I'll need to extend my creativity to explain to Elena Marie why God decided to paint some swans all white and others in greys and blacks, something to the tune of: "The star-bellied sneetches had bellies with stars, while the plain-belly sneetches had none upon thars".

• Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago, before everyone had cellphones (EM, interrupting: "But, Papa, how did people talk to each other?" Me: "Smoke signals." EM: "Oh, how did they make smoke signals?" Me: "They squoze smoke out of the smokey mountain range ... *snigger*" EM: "Really? They really talked with smoke signals and squoze smoke from smokey mountains?" Me: "Well..." EM, wise to me now: "Your telling stories!" -- that girl is onto my antics), Diane and I went for a walk around some of Cameron Run (This was when Cameron Run was still an Army Base, not a housing development with "affordable" townhomes "in the mid 500s" -- Gah! Silicon Valley East, indeed!). We packed sandwiches, eating them on a park bench. This activity attracted a gaggle of geese, and we tossed the yucky, yucky crusts to one goose, Fred, who ate it with much relish (not the condiment!).
  
  We continued our walk, but not unaccompanied: it seemed Fred was hoping for more charity. You can't give what you don't have, but try explaining that to a determined animal who can reach up to your neck. Needless to say, Diane and I picked up our pace and kept a weather eye on our stern.



• Today I was en route to work when I noticed two geese guarding three goslings by the hotel pond. So, I did what any red-blooded Auclair would do (actually, I think we're blue-bloods ...): I pulled to the side of the road, whipped out my cellphone (this is now when everyone not only has a cellphone, but they also have a digicam cellphone), and got just out of range to take a tiny-tiny cellphone picture.
  
  Do you know that geese hiss just like cats? Actually, if you have a cat handy, who also happens to be hissing, listen carefully, as the onomatopoeia is inaccurate. The sound is "Χαααα" -- in the original ancient Greek (barely sounded 'k', heavy 'h' sound in the Χ). After the hiss, the Papa goose advanced on me, and another papa moved in. They had the moral upper hand, so I did a "tactical redeployment". Those goslings were big, too: I think they're related to Fred. (EM: "Papa, how do you know that goose's name?" Me: "That's easy, sweetie: all geese are named 'Fred'" EM: "Really?" ... hmmmm ...).

The morale to both of these stories is clear:

Don't mess with geese to live happily every after.