At the ripe old age of 39 there are few "firsts" left in life, but today was a "first." I named a Canadian goose today. His name is "Caddyshack," for today we are officially at war.
Over the past few weeks I have resigned myself to putting up over 800 yards of mason line around the island with stakes to keep the geese out. According to research on Google, these non-migrating geese create a pound of poop per day. I believe it is at least that much.
Well, the geese were perplexed with the line around the seawall and, man, wife and brood of four circled the island looking for a break in the line. Down past the boat launch they found their spot and waddled themselves and their cute little future poopers of the world up onto the yard to eat and defecate.
I came home from dropping Ashley off at school and, wielding an umbrella, scared them away - no doubt to the amusement of my neighbors. I thought I'd look bigger and more scary (no idea why I'd feel the need to look bigger than I do already) if I would flash the umbrella open and closed as I rushed them. (At this point I'd not be surprised to show up on Youtube or "America's Funniest Home Videos").
Anyway, I found this was faulty logic as when I closed the umbrella, I discovered that during the moment my line of sight was obstructed when the umbrella was open - the daddy goose was in turn rushing me. I fled a moment and then turned to chase the little bastard off the yard whooping and hollering "Bushisms" for him to "Bring it on."
Well, Caddyshack then swam to the other side of the channel, hopped up on the land and proceeded to tell me how wrong I was.
