We've noticed mild-mannered Father Goose being a little cranky for the last couple of weeks. We thought our unusually warm spell a short while back was perhaps fooling the geese into believing it was time to start thinking about fat, little, fuzzy yellow goslings, if you know what I mean. It's actually a little early for that sort of thing up here near the tundra, but the weather has been so wacky, we blamed our gander going into quasi-attack mode on that.
Sunday morning when Papa Pea opened the geese enclosure to let them out for the day, he spotted one big old goose egg right in the middle of their area. He stood looking at it thinking it was strange Mother Goose hadn't made a nest as she usually does before starting to lay eggs.
Well, apparently Father Goose felt threatened by that big guy standing there because he grabbed Papa Pea's left calf muscle and wasn't about to let go.
I asked hubby what he did. He said, "I grabbed him by the neck with one hand and hit him over the head with the plastic bucket I had in my other hand while sharing a few chosen words about his inappropriate behavior."
The goose bite broke the skin and was painful for only a short time but, surprisingly, never produced the big bruised area I thought it would.
I know one thing for sure. No way am I going in that enclosure for a long time . . . unless I can find a baseball bat at an early spring garage sale.
As of this morning, Mother Goose has indeed built a big, cozy nest and has four eggs in it. She still goes out grazing every day, but while she's gone the eggs are totally hidden with a layer of straw. I wonder how many she'll lay before she starts incubating them?
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