This is me and a friend, chatting via instant messenger:
Me: Some goose has been in the garden, being loud, for an hour!
Friend: Everybody needs more goose.
Me: The loud goose has five goslings!
I think that qualifies as “more goose.”
Beneath the clamour of the adult goose, the quiet peepings of the goslings went undetected. I nearly shut the window against the loud goose, and missed the goslings entirely.
And this is a gosling:
One just wants to pick it up and squeeze it tight. (Probably not a good idea.)
I hope that tetchy old git, Mr. Dolgonosov, doesn’t see the goslings. I don’t trust him not to stamp on them, or kick them into the bushes. I’ve seen him harassing birds, in the garden. I know he’s up to no good. I wish I had a Super Soaker, so I could squirt him from afar, if I caught him getting up to no good. (Would that count as assault? I wonder….)
They strolled across the garden….
Everybody was coming out on their balconies, or into the courtyard, photographing the goose family, videotaping it. The goose didn’t seem to mind; indeed, it seemed rather proud of what it had done. It paraded its goslings round in circles, till everyone had got a good look.
The gosling at the front, there, spent several minutes throwing itself at that step, trying to pull itself up with its tiny, stubby wings. Eventually, its efforts proved successful. The rest of the goslings went round the other way, and reached the grass much faster.
Aww. Look at the puffy goslings. I saw a video on YouTube of a gull swallowing a duckling whole. Let’s hope these are too big to suffer the same fate. Gulls, stay away!
(The gulls can stay away, even if they’re not capable of swallowing a gosling. This morning, they were round earlier than ever. Five o’clock, and there they were, bawking up a storm, on my balcony. Stupid birds. Don’t they realise I wouldn’t wake up if they didn’t scream? Then, they could eat everything in the feeder, without fear of shooing.)
Still terribly busy. Here are a few little observations, jotted down over the last few days:
Sunday: I keep my birdseed in the freezer. Birdseed, left out in the open, has a habit of attracting moths. This morning, I was getting some bread out, for toast, when I upset the seedbag all over the floor. I decided to have my breakfast first, then deal with the mess. Nobody wants to touch a manky dustpan, and dine right after — even with a good handwashing, that grimy feeling remains. About five bites into my toast, I heard an unusually loud cheeping, from the balcony. I looked over, and a sparrow was on the windowledge, peering in the open window. Clearly, it had spotted the seed disaster, and was debating whether or not to come in. I waved my toast at it, and it fluttered back to the feeder. Still, just goes to show, you can’t turn your back on these birds. Last year, I left the window open while I was in the shower, and a bird came in and shat on the drawing I was working on. A few days later, my bedroom window was open, and a bird got in bed with me. Last week, a hummingbird tried to follow me inside, when I had on my red coat. These birds are becoming entirely too bold. Birds, you belong outside. Stay there!
When I told my sister about this, her comment was “At least it wasn’t a goose.” Quite right. No-one likes a goose in the living room. But here’s some canned honking, anyway. You know, in case your life needs more goose in it:
Monday: We had a blowy day, yesterday. The average wind speed was seventy kilometres per hour, with gusts up to ninety. The gale swept the smaller birds clean off the railing, and sent them hurtling through the sky, squawking their indignation. Most of them had to try several landings, before they were able to dine.
I went out for a walk, and got beaned by an errant shoebox.
And now, thirty seconds of wind, and the clanking of moorings, from the marina. Listen to this, if you miss the sea:
Apropos of Nothing: Anyone else seen that Title Bucks ad, where it sounds like they’re saying “bugs,” instead of “bucks?” Bring in your car title, and we’ll give you lots of bugs! I’ve heard that title loans are a bit of a ripoff, generally speaking. So maybe the ad’s metaphorical. You know — they don’t really give you bugs, but you feel like they did, when you’ve spent all the money, and your car gets taken away.
Right now: There’s a little pile of half-eaten peanuts on my windowsill. Clearly, chickadees have been putting them there. Chickadees are the only birds that smash their food against a hard surface, before swallowing it — well, the only ones I get round my feeder, at any rate. Normally, I don’t put out peanuts: most of the tiny birds seem to prefer sunflower seeds. But I was out of those, today; hence, peanuts. The crows were ecstatic. They were back and forth all morning, stuffing their beaks with peanuts and suet. The sparrows, finches, and chickadees seemed dubious. Perhaps a mix is best, so every bird can have its favourite.
Earlier this morning: Bushtits round the entrance to my building, again. I wish they’d sit still, so I could take their pictures — or come to my feeder, so I could examine them more closely. Maybe now that chickadees are showing up, other tiny songbirds will follow. One can but hope.
Birds! Bewilderment! Being outside!
This is my blog! It's mostly about birds, but also about being outside: photographs I've taken while outside, accountings of places I've parted company with umbrellas, notes on interesting rubbish sightings, and so forth. If I don't post about being outside for a few days, please comment and harass me till I go outside.