At last! My favorite farm has opened for the season. After shopping for an assortment of goodies ranging from parsnips to a case of mangoes we decided to visit the animals. Or, my son decided and I went along. The black and white spotted pig was amusing, eating his squashed lettuce with such fervor I had to wonder when the poor thing had eaten last. Then I looked at his belly dragging in the mud and decided that perhaps he’s just enthusiastic about everything, including eating.
We then came across a band of three innocent-looking geese and I thought “great photo opp!” I’m clicking away, inching closer, when the head of the posse starts to hiss. Not wanting to cause a disturbance I took a step back and continued photographing.
Then came the ambush. They charged. At me. And my 3-year-old. Hissing and flapping, the hooligans just kept at it and I began to panic. Inwardly, of course. I didn’t want my son to get concerned that we were under attack or anything. He was quite distraught at this point so I backed up quickly, giving lots of space between us and the ruffians. Surely this would be enough to put the geese at ease? Not quite. Let’s just say that the heroic farmer who heard a frantic lady screaming “HELP! HELLO??” saved the day. With a broom.
As my blood pressure normalized itself, we walked back to the car. We were almost there and I looked up and saw a sign. Beware. The geese have attitude.