Missing Geese

There were no geese this morning. No rat-tat- at- tat on the glass doors downstairs to wake me up. No geese yesterday either, I think they have gone. Perhaps the fox finally outwitted them, or they tried to cross the highway again . . . the perils of free-range geese!

They weren’t even my geese. They just walked in from nowhere about 8 months ago and started banging at my windows, so I fed them thinking it would stop the incessant noise. It didn't work and they have been banging on my windows waking me up and wanting to be fed ever since. I didn’t really like them. I didn’t like the mess they made, poohing outside my back door, and destroying my planter boxes, leaving me to pick up millions of little white polystyrene balls out of my garden. When I slept in or ignored their demands for food they would maliciously swipe precious blossoms and the tiny forming fruits from my lemon trees. They had become increasingly more aggressive, hissing and scaring Jojo, my grandson, and then last week Whitie (yes they have names now) started running at me when my back was turned and pecked me on the behind.

I didn’t like them, that was my official line. I spent hours complaining about them, cleaning up after them, building fences, figuring out how to catch them and where to relocate them. Friends would email with suggestions, the most common being . . . ‘Stop feeding them!’ . . . but I suspect doing that was what lead Whitie to start biting me.

I have slept in two mornings in a row and I have to admit it, although I didn’t like them, I miss my alarm clocks and complaining about them. I miss going down stairs and tapping back on the window to tell them to wait while I put the kettle on, take my vitamins, do my wake up and balance exercises while they are honking and tellingme to hurry up. I miss the routine of banging on the lid of their wheat tin as I pass it to check the rain gauge and get an armful of fire wood. I miss reminding them who’s boss and whose life comes first while I’m stacking the wood and then finally feed them. I get a little pang when I think they won’t be here for the children. I don’t get to be Nanna and Ophelia is cheated of her big sister role in protecting and shooing the geese away from Jojo.

By late this afternoon I’ve found myself fleetingly wondering where I could get another pair of geese. In order to prevent myself from being rash, I’ve decided to write this instead. Ahhh change! It’s bitter sweet.