Showing posts with label Moe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Moe. Show all posts

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Moe

Pamela Richardson. BlogSpot.com

 
 
Moe

Moe, you are beautiful as beautiful as an African goose can be. Walking through the poultry barn at the state fair all the blue ribbon African Geese could not hold a candle to you.  In addition, looking at pictures of what a true African Goose is to look like is just like looking at you Moe. Standing tall with so much pride about you is a pleasure to watch. Your grace and beauty radiates about you.

After the goslings became adult, I think Daunte got tired of being in charge of the gaggle. He put Moe in charge, there was no fight no struggle for power. Moe took that to heart. He watches over the gaggle with pride. Neither a squirrel nor a chipmunk will infiltrate our space.  Havens forbid a crow land in the middle of the gaggle, as the rest lie sleeping.  All will be safe as long as I am in charge. Sleep, who needs it when the safety of the gaggle it at hand

Usually there are many fights between the males, especially in the spring. Most days we just ignore the fights. They are usually just something trivial like someone stepped on the others foot or looked at the other the wrong way. Pretty much, like children. Some are more violent and there is blood, not anything life threatening but can be cause for concern.  The C.O or I will intervene and send them to their corners for a time out.

Usually within an hour, everyone is back to normal and the fight forgotten. Life now is returned to the same old same old, should we go down to the pond or try to sneak up to the front yard. There is always one lagging behind as the scout. It is usually Midge, sounding a warning when one of us is spotted looking for them. ARRRRAACk.  As if, we cannot hear or see her.  All of a sudden, you will hear squawk, squawk, and squawk as they come around the garage one by one; acting like nothing is going on.  No, not us, we were not in the front yard.

Sometime when they are out in the field or in the back of the pond and we cannot see them. All we have to do is yell, WHAT. They will then give themselves away.  For some reason the word WHAT means something to them and they have to answer us back. SQUAWK!!! For every WHAT.

Sometime we go out and get them and sometimes we just say, “Get back here right now”. After a long discussion, they usually return in 20 minutes.
This is a sample of my goose story. Feel free to look around.
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