The fifth line infantry of geese. At least that is what it reminds me of. A few blogs back I believe I grumbled about how the men in blue shirts were running around at 11pm at night with lasers trying to scare off the geese. This annoyed me, because I don’t mind the geese that much. At least I didn’t until apparently they stopped trying to scare them off.
Lately the number of geese has increased greatly. The babies are no longer babies and the masses are ridiculous. I could gripe about the goose poop on the sidewalk, but the worse part…geese are mean. Vicious little things when they want to be and they usually always want to be. They do not like the zone and she does not care. She’s part hunting dog and the geese are fair game.
One or two isn’t really all that bad, but when the line is in its full force there are at least five that feel the need to take her on. Wings expanded. Necks extended. Hissing as loud as they can. Fun times. Especially, since it never fails at least one of those five is not all talk and comes running at her. She feels inclined to oblige.
There is nothing like a face full of feathers as you try to pull your dog back. The dog that suddenly weighs twice as much as what she did prior to the goose attack. Amazing how strong that dog can be when she wants to be. I’ve got some strength behind my little arms, but apparently the only thing more stubborn than me is the zone on the hunt.
Needless to say these were taken without her in tow. They are not of the full brigade, because they only seem to assemble early in the morning or late in the evening. Rarely in the afternoon, but always when I do not have a camera on hand. They’re also a lot less intimidating when they are scattered. Of course they don’t seem to mind me as much when I’m solo.
Montana Rose Photography