Monday, January 10, 2005
Herbert and Judy’s House Party
So, as many of you already know, I do not particularly like birds. I mean, I like them all right in theory, I guess (except for pigeons, which are resolutely disgusting in both theory and practice), but I just feel that birds have their place and I have mine, and those two places should not be even remotely close to one another. I’m not exactly sure what inspired this fear and loathing, although I suspect it might have had something to do with the strange bird-related experiences I had during my formative years (and yes, I would be referring here to the incident where my sister and I gave the dead ducks a tour of our house).
Anyway. After pigeons, the number-two bird on my list of most hated/feared birds is the Canada goose. My reasons for hating the Canada goose are pretty similar to my reasons for hating the pigeon: a) they have no qualms about coming right up to you, and b) they poop copiously and indiscriminately. I give Canada geese leeway only because their babies are really cute, whereas pigeons, as Mr. Erik Petersen once pointed out, don’t actually seem to have babies. (I tend to think that this is because they’ve already mastered the science of cloning themselves.)
At my old office park, there was a lake with a trail around it where my friend Robyn and I would go to walk in the afternoons when the weather was warm. Unfortunately, this lake happened to be a breeding ground for the geese, and they were none too happy about us invading their territory. Some of them would actually stand in the middle of the path and hiss at us when we tried to walk past. Naturally, this caused me a great deal of alarm, but my terror was a considerable source of amusement for Robyn, who has so great a love for all animals that I began to wonder if she was actually the model for Snow White. Needless to say, all the geese made my daily workout quite stressful indeed.
That’s why I was so thrilled to discover that the lake (and trail) at my new office park were goose-free. At least they were until a couple of weeks ago, when I suddenly noticed the arrival of two geese. I was initially wary of them, but they soon proved themselves to be pretty docile and not at all prone to invading my personal space. To further my acceptance of the geese, I decided to give them names: Herbert and Judy. I have no idea how I came up with these names, but they seemed to fit. Eventually, I got to the point where I was not only no longer afraid of Herbert and Judy, but actually came to (gasp!) enjoy seeing them on my daily stroll.
But apparently Herbert and Judy have gotten pretty comfortable in their new environment, too, evidenced by the fact that they have invited several of their friends down to check it out. Seemingly overnight, the goose population of the lake has more than quadrupled, which is not a good thing. It’s highly unlikely that all of these geese are as good-natured and unassuming as Herbert and Judy. And there’s no way I can name all of the geese in an attempt to humanize them—I can barely tell Herbert from Judy, let alone which ones Herbert and Judy are in this new sea of geese. So I guess it’s back to being traumatized while exercising, at least until the geese decide to fly back north. And considering it’s only January, that’s probably not going to happen any time soon.
So, as many of you already know, I do not particularly like birds. I mean, I like them all right in theory, I guess (except for pigeons, which are resolutely disgusting in both theory and practice), but I just feel that birds have their place and I have mine, and those two places should not be even remotely close to one another. I’m not exactly sure what inspired this fear and loathing, although I suspect it might have had something to do with the strange bird-related experiences I had during my formative years (and yes, I would be referring here to the incident where my sister and I gave the dead ducks a tour of our house).
Anyway. After pigeons, the number-two bird on my list of most hated/feared birds is the Canada goose. My reasons for hating the Canada goose are pretty similar to my reasons for hating the pigeon: a) they have no qualms about coming right up to you, and b) they poop copiously and indiscriminately. I give Canada geese leeway only because their babies are really cute, whereas pigeons, as Mr. Erik Petersen once pointed out, don’t actually seem to have babies. (I tend to think that this is because they’ve already mastered the science of cloning themselves.)
At my old office park, there was a lake with a trail around it where my friend Robyn and I would go to walk in the afternoons when the weather was warm. Unfortunately, this lake happened to be a breeding ground for the geese, and they were none too happy about us invading their territory. Some of them would actually stand in the middle of the path and hiss at us when we tried to walk past. Naturally, this caused me a great deal of alarm, but my terror was a considerable source of amusement for Robyn, who has so great a love for all animals that I began to wonder if she was actually the model for Snow White. Needless to say, all the geese made my daily workout quite stressful indeed.
That’s why I was so thrilled to discover that the lake (and trail) at my new office park were goose-free. At least they were until a couple of weeks ago, when I suddenly noticed the arrival of two geese. I was initially wary of them, but they soon proved themselves to be pretty docile and not at all prone to invading my personal space. To further my acceptance of the geese, I decided to give them names: Herbert and Judy. I have no idea how I came up with these names, but they seemed to fit. Eventually, I got to the point where I was not only no longer afraid of Herbert and Judy, but actually came to (gasp!) enjoy seeing them on my daily stroll.
But apparently Herbert and Judy have gotten pretty comfortable in their new environment, too, evidenced by the fact that they have invited several of their friends down to check it out. Seemingly overnight, the goose population of the lake has more than quadrupled, which is not a good thing. It’s highly unlikely that all of these geese are as good-natured and unassuming as Herbert and Judy. And there’s no way I can name all of the geese in an attempt to humanize them—I can barely tell Herbert from Judy, let alone which ones Herbert and Judy are in this new sea of geese. So I guess it’s back to being traumatized while exercising, at least until the geese decide to fly back north. And considering it’s only January, that’s probably not going to happen any time soon.
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