A Goose Story

I noticed that Viggo was out in the backyard tonight watching a couple dozen Canadian geese munching grass and weeds in the field.  I asked Nate what the boy was up to.

Nate said, "Oh, I told him to chase all those geese away.  Or else they're going to make the field slick with goose poop and the kids won't want to go out there." 

We had to save the field from goose poop.  For the sake of the children.

Viggo was just standing there, and not wanting to underestimate the power of goose poop,  I said, "Do you want me to give him a hand?"

Nate looked at me and blinked.  "Sure."

Like the good little wife I am, I went outside.

"Hey Viggo, let's run those geese off.  Dad said we should."  Viggo was up to the challenge.  Off we ran, clapping and marking loud, troll-like noise to scare them off.  And we were giggling.

Those stupid geese didn't budge.  Well, some took a few steps away from us.  Viggo and I stood there, surrounded by geese, who could care less that we were uninvited guests.  We ran around again, in circles, yelling at them, but the geese just went on eating their dinner.  I was concerned:  Who needs a bunch of goose poop out here?  I remember what happened to our deck last month.  (You don't want to know . . . but I promise you, geese, a lot of them, held a memorable gathering on our deck.)

"Viggo, we have to re-think our strategy.  Let's go back to the garden and get a really good running start and yell at them as loud as we can."  The geese had their backs turned to us, but a few glanced at as warily.  I had to wonder, what will they do when we get really close?  Will they hiss and attack us?  Will we become the first geese victims in a nondescript field in central Minnesota?

We went back to the garden, and as planned, ran towards the geese, waving our arms, yelling, clapping, and . . . the geese took a few more steps away, but they weren't even close to flying.  They could care less.

"If Dad wants these gone, honey, we'd better go and get him.  He's much more intimidating than we are."  Viggo thought this was a great idea, so he ran inside to get Nate.  He came back a minute later.

"Dad says it doesn't really matter if we can't get rid of them.  He said he just likes watching us run around trying to chase the geese off."

No way.

We went inside and there was Nate, holding down the couch, innocently watching the Olympics.

"You don't want us to chase off the geese?"

"Um, no, I don't really think we need to worry about it . . . but I sure hope Aulf's parents didn't see you running around.  They might think you're crazy."  (Aulf is our next-door neighbor . . . his folks are visiting from Sweden.) 

What a dork.  Someday, at some point . . . Nate may regret the goose event of August 10, 2012.