Chasing Geese

A friend’s post on Facebook today invoked a funny childhood memory from the 50’s about geese.

One time we had two tame geese on the farm.  I don’t know if they were wild geese with their wings clipped or domestic geese, but they were dark colored. Mom thought the geese would eat pests and clean up the sticker patches.  She was a thrifty soul and probably thought this was a great solution.

We three kids weren’t particularly fond of fowl though because cleaning the chicken house was a disgusting, dusty, and stinky job we loathed.  Gathering eggs from under a pecking and disgruntled setting hen was something else on our most hated list. 

These two geese had free run of the farm, and after being chased a few times, we kept a respectful distance from those big wings, webbed feet, and menacing beak!  RoJean, Timmy, and I weren’t at all sad when Gander Goose met his demise under the wheels of a truck. 

We tolerated mean mama only because we were fascinated by her nest of eggs under a feed bin in the barn.  There were story book pictures in our minds of darling little fluffy goslings playing follow the leader around the farm.

One day after weeks of being terrorized by the whole brood, I was leading my 4-H calf around behind the barn when I heard brother Timmy’s go-kart start up on the other side.  Hearing the squawking and commotion, I came around the corner to see feathers flying with Timmy in hot pursuit. There were already several hit and run victims flopping in the driveway. 

Mother said later that being the older sister I should have stopped the slaughter, but I just stood there in mutual agreement and amazement to his remedy to our problem!

Mom was mad at us, but I also recall that our only punishment was finishing killing off the injured geese, and cleaning up the go-kart and the mess in the barnyard.  Maybe mother was weary of watching her own backside too, but whatever the reason, we never had geese on the farm again.

Today when I see chefs on the Food Network touting the delicacy of roast goose and goose liver pate, I shudder, but I also wonder if our farm cats enjoyed the fresh morsels we left behind that day!