Geese Are Probably Dumb
Back when I was a wee Aunt Becky, I loved animals. Okay, scratch that, I STILL love animals, but not with the same intense fervor I once did, mostly because picking up animal shit is gross. But back then, in the days of wine and roses, I didn’t have to think about Kitty Shitters or anything other than OMG CUDDLY SO CUTE.
So when my parents, always semi-closeted nerds, decided that what we REALLY needed to do that weekend was to go to Fermi Lab, a mere ten minutes from my home and look at all the smart people doing smart people things, I was all for it. Mostly because it meant a romp in the woods and the opportunity to see OMG CUDDLY ANIMALS OMG. I could’ve cared less about the smart people, although I do remember being fascinated by how many of them wore socks with sandals, which I’d been told was a fashion sin times four hundred basquillian. Apparently, THEY did not get that memo.
Fermi Lab has a whole range of wild buffalo and prairies and stuff, but for some reason, since my parents wanted to look at smart people doing smart people things, they simply sat by the big pond in the front of the main building and allowed me to run amok. So I did. Artfully dodging piles of goose poo so green and white that it’d have been pretty had it not been totally gross, I ran around, looking for OMG CUDDLY ANIMALS OMG.
What I found were not cuddly cute animals. No. They were geese. Of the aforementioned geese shit.
Oh well, I thought, I bet one of them WANTS A CUDDLE! I thought about telling my parents that the goose over there wanted me to take him home and live in my room and go to school with me like a pet goose. I wanted to name him Mr. Poopy Pants and have him cuddle me to sleep at night and go roller skating with me on the weekends. My parents were too engrossed by Smart People Watching (I’d swear they had binoculars) to pay any attention to my new pet, so I decided it was time to bring him over for a visit. Just y’know, so he could meet the fam.
It was time to grab Mr. Poopy Pants and bring him home.
The only problem was that every time I got close to him, he’d take a couple steps backward. “Oh,” I thought. “He’s playing hard to get. I CAN WIN AT THIS GAME.” Instead of backing off and feigning nonchalance, I decided that the best way to solve this problem was to march my way through it.
And so I did. For at least an hour, I chased Mr. Poopy Pants around the pond until, at long last, I’d backed Mr. Poopy Pants (who may or may not have ACTUALLY been the same Mr. Poopy Pants I’d set my star-crossed eyes upon, into a parkbench. I reached my wee arms out as far as I could so I could grab his neck and give him a big hug, when it happened.
Mr. Poopy Pants, my loving, rollerskating goose, well, he didn’t want a hug. At least, he didn’t want a hug from me. But I wasn’t going to let that deter me. No sir. I opened my arms, closed my eyes and moved forward until I was within arms reach of him.
Suddenly, my feelings of pink puffy hearts were gone and I felt a searing pain in my finger. I opened my star-crossed eyes and saw my beloved pet goose, Mr. Poopy Pants, gnawing on my finger.
I was crushed.
Tearfully, I returned back to my parents, still using their binoculars to look at Smart People, and held out my finger. “*sniff, sniff* Mom! I got bit by Mr. Poopy Pants. *sobs*”
My mom looked at my finger, then at me, then back at my finger and then finally at my dad.
“Well,” she said. “What did you expect, Rebecca? He’s a GOOSE and you’ve been chasing him for an hour and a half.”
“He was *sobs* my bestest friend,” I tearfully sputtered out.
My parents couldn’t contain their laughter.
“What?” I stomped indignantly. “HE WAS.”
“You go ahead and believe that, Rebecca, but there’s no way I’m allowing a goose into my home.”
I flung myself on the bench next to them, examining my war wound and pouted. I couldn’t BELIEVE my parents didn’t want a goose in their house.
Finally, I decided that they probably hadn’t considered that he might take me roller skating. But by that time, the geese had moved on to shit on another area of the wildlife preserve and I was left with the memories of my best friend, Mr. Poopy Pants.
——————
While I was not left with memories of a rollerskating goose best friend, I was left with an intense hatred of geese. Cute? Sure. Cuddly-LOOKING? Sure. Things that shit every-fucking-where? Fucking SURE.
So I’ve made it my personal mission in life to give every goose I see the You’re Number One finger, in the vain hope that one day, I’ll manage to flick off Mr. Poopy Pants’ relative.
Which is why yesterday, when I stood outside basking in the 45 degree weather and debating the merits of putting on a tank top in January, when I heard a flock of geese squonking across the sky, I looked up, gave them the finger, then began to laugh.
Those motherfuckers were flying North, not South.
Fucking stupid fucking geese.
Geese Are Probably Dumb http://t.co/svgykTuQ
They are stupid. They don’t get out of the way of cars in a parking lot. Everyone stops thier car and waits for the stupid geese. I wonder if they ever get run over. Stupid things.
My Grandmother had a goose while I was growing up. I named him, Hank. I drew pictures of Hank and tried to love on him. He feigned interested. Hank became crazed in the brain and on Christmas Eve, I was informed we were eating Hank.
Geese are mean, nasty, and loud. They make great guard animals. They are nasty and mean. Also, they bite and shit. Worse than camels with all that spitting and pissing. Geese are mean.
I want to call them stupid, but, you know, I live right outside of DC and have seen entire flocks waddle out in the middle of 8 lanes of traffic at rush hour and traffic comes to a fucking stop. For geese. It’s like being a pedestrian in the city. The cars can honk as much as they want, but they’re not going to run your ass over. They’re just not. Still…geese can fucking fly. What would make them wander across a major highway if the could fly over it? The fact that they fucking can. Smart, nasty little things.
They definitely fall into the category of “adorable only as babies”
This post made me smile because for a brief four months, I lived in a neighborhood that was right next to Fermi Lab. Totally remember the buffolo, pond….and lots of geese poop. We used to take bike rides there, which for a thriteen year old girl, was slightly embarassing…helmuts…parents.
Geese are assholes, but swans are worse. They’re all like, we’re pretty, admire our graceful necks and shit. And then those motherfuckers come for you.
omfg swans are nasty. they hiss too if you piss them off. and they are HUUUUGE. they look all fluffly and cute and regal floating around but, in reality, swans are just huge nasty fucking birds.
Geese Are Probably Dumb: Back when I was a wee Aunt Becky, I loved animals. Okay, scratch t… http://t.co/C5uP1eer via @MommyWantsVodka
Geese are evil. They basically took over the pond in my hometown. I remember trying to have a picnic there (up on a high bench where the geese couldn’t reach) and they swarmed us. It was like The Birds, except they were waddling. Geese are the debil.
Hi Beck you are back with us now? Hope u r alright.
oh aunt motherfucking becky, you’ve solidified my belief that i am the only person left on the planet who adores canadian geese.
My mom had to teach fowl when she was completing her doctorate in ed psych. She says that birds in general are basically ineducable, hence the term “bird brain,” but that chickens and geese are especially stupid. She said pigeons are among the smarter of birds, and she likes doves as well, but she can’t even sand ducks, much less geese and chickens. She said turkeys are just pathetic.
Ewe. Gross. Sandals with socks? (Shudder)
Ugh geese are the WORST. I worked at a camp a few years ago and there were always a ton of geese around the lake. When walking from one building to another, they would come toward you, like for attack purposes. I spent that entire summer running from the geeses.
I’m sorry one of them got to you. At least I know better. They have evil fucking eyes. 🙂
I used to love geese… until I lived right next to lake and then I learned what vile, ridiculous creatures they are. Phoebe grew up with an intense hatred of the evil birds as they were invading “her” backyard.
Holy shit! (obvs catching up here) the geese have been flying NORTH here too. So weird.