About twenty-five years ago, I drove a school bus for a small country school and parked it in a field next to two other busses, one of which was driven by a woman named Jocelyn, who was the owner of the property. Jocelyn had a flock of Toulouse geese, which were generally kept in a large pen, except for the infamous escape artist, (and very large) gander, "BoBo".

In the early mornings after I had parked my car, I cautiously surveyed the darkened surrounding area before walking towards my bus in order to not be snuck up on and waylaid with a ferocious goosing. Any relief drivers who had the misfortune of not being warned about BoBo, usually ended up shouting and cursing, while perched on the hood of the older long-nosed bus. I got to know and develop a timid (on my part) friendship with Bobo for the six years that I parked my bus in "his" field. I liked Bobo's personality, grumpy that it was, but tender enough that Jocelyn's children were the ones that would rush out of the house and rescue any frightened relief driver by gathering that huge, cranky old goose into their arms, where he would rest comfortably and quietly. He was the first goose I ever knew and he became the impetus in later years for my own flock of pet geese.

When hubby and I moved into our new home in the country, one of the first things I did was look in the newspaper ads for "Geese for sale". Finding one such ad, I rushed to the address listed and purchased two goslings, male and female. They had been hatched on April 1st, so of course, I named them "April" and "Fool". These were not the big gray Toulouse geese, but were instead "China Browns", considered to be the swans of the goose world due to their long graceful necks. As adults, their under bodies were a soft, creamy, light tan. Their necks being of the same color, but with a subdued dark brown stripe running down the full length on the backs of their necks, spreading out to melt in shades of soft browns over their shoulders and the backs of their bodies. They also are known for an unsightly large "knob" on their bright orange beaks, directly in front of their eyes. When they joined our family, they were just fluffy goslings of a neutral colors and I had no idea how beautiful they would later become.

Two weeks after April and Fool moved in with us in our new home (in a very large box in the spare bedroom), Jocelyn (remember her?) showed up with a house warming gift consisting of two of Bobo's offspring which were supposed to have been male and female (maybe). Neither Jocelyn and I were familiar at that time in the art of "venting" fowl to determine the sex, and being very young goslings, the new arrival's "posturing" was not apparent yet. I can't remember what we first named them, but when they became adults they were obviously both males and my hubby called them "The Funny Brothers", which stuck with them forever more.

I was quite ignorant of raising barnyard fowl or any type of farm animals for that matter, and as the four geese grew into adults of three males and one female, I didn't realize that the female would suffer so much from being the object of affection from the three males (especially since the Toulouse were so large and heavy, compared to her light-weight breed). Hubby and I worked away from home and were not aware of the strain upon April and Fool, of having the two breeds together and as a consequence, they both suffered physically.

One day when I returned from work, I discovered Fool lying motionless. I picked her up and took her to a local vet, one of which I NEVER went back to again. Much joking and laughing at my goose took place among the technicians and the Vet while they were checking out Fool's injuries. The diagnosis was "Bring the goose back for an autopsy, because she's going to die, and at this time, I can't give you a definite reason why". (I soon found another Vet who was more sympathetic to ALL creatures.)

Fool soon died, and Oh MY! It was a terrible time around my house, and I mean that literally! There were no fences near my house at that time and April walked around and around the house day and night screaming in a high pitch which his breed is known for. By that time, it was summer, I was off work and the only way that I could get April to stop screaming was to go outside, pick him up and hold him. I would even bring him into the house and hold him on my lap while I read. After a few weeks, I too, felt like screaming, so back to the newspaper ads! (By the way, geese CAN control their bowel movements. April never once pooped on me in 18 years, even when he was very ill.)

I contacted a woman who had a China Brown goose ranch way back in the hills, and she said that my gander would be okay if I got another female for him. I was on my way to the hills as soon as I hung up the phone.

Driving down a long dirt road, I arrived at the house which was situated in the middle of nowhere. There were many, many contented-looking China Brown geese off in the distant field, but parking in front of the house's carport, I noticed a fluffed-up goose sitting on a pile of rocks near the back wall.

I carefully got out of the car and tiptoed past her (they can be really cranky to strangers) to the side door of the house. The woman who answered the door was wearing heavy-duty work clothes, including a full leather apron, which gave the overall appearance of someone who would not take any crap off of anyone or anything. (My, how appearances can be deceiving!) She said she had one goose that she could sell me. I thought that was strange, because I had seen at least a hundred out in the field. The woman said the goose that was available had gone "broody" which meant the need to sit on eggs...But.. there were no eggs because it was past the breeding season. Yup, the goose I had driven all the way back in the hills for was the one who was trying to hatch out a pile of rocks.

Okay, I had gone there to get a goose and a goose I was gonna get. I told the woman I'd take the broody bird.

The woman went outside. There was a loud commotion of high-pitched shrieking, and human cursing, which all thankfully ceased as the woman came back into the house with a burlap bag in one hand and carrying the rock-sitter cradled under her arm. Then, as the woman started to place the goose in the bag, everything kind of fell apart (remember, we were inside the house and right next to the open kitchen..)

As the woman opened the bag and began to deposit the goose into it, the bird seemed to become the Devil himself. Huge wings (which can break one's nose with a well-placed whack) began beating furiously, along with horrendous shrieking of both participants, with more curses from the woman adding to the turmoil. The goose did NOT want to go into the sack and used every means possible to avoid it.

Speaking of "..void", that's what began to happen. Like water shot from a fireman's hose, brown liquid of the most revolting stench began spraying the woman and the kitchen as the bird tried desperately to free itself. The woman lost her hold on the goose's body but managed to capture the legs with both of her hands which was not good, because then the bird became like a helicopter that was out of control and flying erratically at the end of the woman's outstretched arms... over the woman's head, beating the out-stretched wings against the woman's body, up, down and all around it went. All the while this was happening, putrid brown liquid continued to spew from the bird's rear, splattering everything within range.. the woman, the kitchen counters, the furniture, but luckily, not me, as I had taken refuge as far away as I could, pressed flat against the far wall watching a scene which was straight out of a Looney Toon movie!

I lost track of time, but eventually the woman gained the upper hand and jammed the hysterical goose deep into the burlap bag. There was an abrupt silence. She then looked down at herself, gazed at the kitchen, at the walls, brushed her goose-poo-dampened hair from her eyes, and said wearily to no one in particular, "In all my life, I have NEVER seen a goose shit so much".

I was speechless... what do you say to a person who is covered head to toe in goose poo? I quietly placed some money on one of the few clean spots on the kitchen counter and carried the burlap bagged goose to my car. The bird hated me too, because she continued to void in the burlap bag and resumed the high-pitched shrieking which continued all the way home. My car probably had a brown cloud encompassing it as I pulled into my driveway.

April, as usual, met me in the driveway with his continual screaming. I was tired, my car stunk unmercifully and I had a headache. As I got out of the car, April suddenly heard the screams emitting from the bag. He stopped his screaming and walked closer. I reached into the car, removing the bag none too gently, upended it and dumped the contents on the ground. Out rolled a most angry and smelly bird, but for April, it was love at first sight. His whole attitude changed from that of dejection and grief to "Good GRIEF! My prayers have been answered!" They ran to one another, nuzzled, and goose-stepped off to the pond area and I went in the house to take a shower.

The next day, I bought several instruction books about geese and then I made certain that April and his new lady had more private living quarters for the next breeding season.

April was so thankful for his new lady that he became my buddy. He followed me around as I gardened and would come running in his funny goose trot when I called his name. Years later, after he was again alone, he and the two Funny Brothers became an inseparable trio of old boys. They all gave us almost twenty years of their company.

"You tawkin' ta ME?"

What have I learned from many years of raising geese? 1. Never acquire a pet on the spur of the moment. 2. After breaking rule #1, go to the nearest bookstore (or on-line) and research everything you can about the traits, care, and life-span of the animal. 3. Even geese have personalities. ..and last, but certainly not least, 4. Never turn your back on a good goose.

by Willow Miranda, WilloWorld - Wonderful Poetry, definitely worth a visit.
©"Everyone Should Have A Goose At Least Once In Their Life" was written for the 50+ Friends Club, Paws & Claws section, November 2003.