Don't Throw the Geese!

    When I first entered 6^th grade at my school, the middle school administrators were very careful to warm my entire class about proper recess-time behavior. Since the 6^th grade apparently had quite a history of having confrontations with the obnoxious geese that plague our school campus every fall…and spring…and winter…we were warned of the necessary code of behavior we were to follow if we wished to remain at the school and not get kicked out. The memorable part went something like this:

Don’t chase the geese.

Don’t yell at the geese (too loud).

Don’t throw the geese!

Naturally, the only rule that ever stuck was the last one. As far as I know, no one has thrown the geese since I’ve been at my school. However, it’s a fascinating thought; someone must have thrown the geese in order to make this rule necessary! I just wonder how he/she accomplished it. It’s quite impressive, really!...

But we must take into account the nature of the geese at my school. And by nature, I mean stupidity. Just check out this photo. I believe the location tells it all.

A very happy, very stupid goose taking a breather, waiting
to regain its energy to continue building its nest.

Clearly, this is a very idiotic goose. As it’s prime time for mating and nesting season, the campus geese have paired off, put together nests, and become extremely territorial; they’ve religious continued honking, flapping, flying, and charging at everyone who walks by. But it worries me that this goose has made its nest in the parking lot, of all places. The goose was settled in this glorious location for a very long time—so long that I left—and seemed quite content to remain there for about several weeks until its eggs started to hatch. I imagine by now that someone has removed the nest, or at least moved it to a patch of grass. But really? What on earth was the goose thinking?? A nest in a parking lot? Either that’s natural selection at work, or it’s a very unfortunate little goose.

And we have more geese that could put this one to shame in its attempt at true idiocy. Yesterday as I was walking past a middle school arts building, I nearly stumbled upon a very intense and focused goose. You see, this goose was engaged in a heated staring and intimidation contest—with itself! It’d caught sight of its reflection in the full-length windows of the building, and decided that the two-foot-tall bird that appeared in the window six inches away from it was an imminent threat to its wellbeing. So I hurried past as quickly as possible, not wanting to be caught in the awkward skirmish that might occur when the goose decided to attack itself.

But at least it wasn’t honking…

In the science building of my school, there is an echo-y part of the roof that has hoodwinked many a honking goose. Since an adventurous goose couple decided either to place their nest up there or go on their honeymoon there on the roof (it’s hard to tell, but it’s clear that they’re always up there), they tend to become extremely confused with the clever acoustics. One goose will honk, quite loudly, for some reason or other. Then, faced with the ominous (and loud) echo of its own honk, it will honk again, but louder, to scare the other “goose” away. This cycle tends to last long enough to drive most people away from the building or toward their headphones to block it out. All there is to say is “poor goose”. I mean, how would you feel if you made your nest right where a “ghost goose” that never showed its face lived? You’d probably honk, too.

But wait—that’s not true. You’d just move. But a goose wouldn’t think of that… hence, they are called geese/goose-brains/menaces.

But remember—as annoyed as you become with our little honking guests, never throw the geese!