bad for the gander   

    She had me up at sunrise making “Save the Geese” signs.  This must be penance for ogling that waitress with the great legs last weekend.   Instead of picnicking, we’re spending a hot and humid Memorial Day on a picket line, on about the only shadeless stretch of road in the Village of Scotia, New York.

       

    Back in 1989, a pair of Canadian geese were brought from a state game farm to our nature preserve.  As the flock grew, we’d bring the kids to see them on Collins Lake — sitting on that knoll that’s covered in bird shit today.  “Which ones are coming, Daddy?” . . . ”Which are going?” . . . ”Which ones live here?”    By now, almost two hundred of them are considered “resident birds,” staying until the 50-acre Lake is frozen and coming back in the Spring.               

bathtub spider

she wants it caught

and brought outside

    Most Scotians love the idea of hosting those honking immigrants, but there’s so much goose excrement around Collins Park, no one wants their children to play here, and the Lake and beach had to be closed last summer.  Still, the Wife and her Geese-Savers want to stop Mayor McLaughlin from euthanizing part of the flock. They say it’s inhumane and he hasn’t tried hard enough the past ten years to use nonlethal methods — like border collies and noise-makers, and the always-mysterious “egg-addling”.
         
     Except for that one guy with the graying pony tail and Birkenstocks, who keeps trying to start those lame cheers, every male on this line — from 8 to 80 — looks dispirited, drafted, drug-here.    It wasn’t enough that I gave up hunting geese years ago, to please her and the kids.   Now I’m spending a perfectly good holiday baking my buns on the pavement, not grilling burgers in the backyard.   Her crusade has become mine.   

at my pond

the geese you shooed

from your pond

   There is one consolation: my sweaty face and ”Kinky Friedman” t-shirt embarrass the crap out of her.             

   

bathroom cricket -

a spider spirals
down the drain  

- original version posted May 31, 2006 at f/k/a by the short-lived Haibun Pundit - 

Comments

[Aurora]

The first line made me laugh. :)

Now what in the world is wrong with wearing a Kinky Friedman shirt? That man is a classic!

[david giacalone]

I guess you're not a typical suburban American housewife, Ms. Aurora. Your husband wearing a t-shirt that says "Kinky for President" does not pass muster in all households.

[Aurora]

Forget his politics, his music (and comedy) is pretty great.

By the way, maybe a shirt like this would be better next time:

http://www.kinkyfriedmanstore.com/product.php?productid=16255&cat=0&page=1&featured

[david giacalone]

You're preaching to the converted, AA. Didn't you click on "Kinky Friedman" above to see my praise for the Kinkster? (I am able to express opinions other than my own, you know.)

[Aurora]

I know what your views are concerning Kinky, I'm just giving you ammunition for next time. :) (You had the wrong link up.)

[Ray Rasmussen]

I had a hunch that we'd be revisiting the Canadian Geese, David. This is a kick ... and, you're also visiting spousal relations, the husbands dragged out to help with a protest when they'd rather be sucking down beer and burgers ... maybe the next piece should be the guys picketing the wives for days free from picketing drudgery!
Ray

[david giacalone]

Thanks, Ray. Do you take the spiders outside or wash them down the drain? What about bathtub crickets?

[shane]

good show.

[Ray Rasmussen]

Hi David,
re spiders and crickets ... not sure why you're asking ... are you likening them to spousal relations, sometimes serenading,sometimes biting?
and, as for the real beasties, yeah, smash, then down the drain.
Ray

[david giacalone]

Ray, In my experience (limited to be sure and certainly subject to many exceptions), males/husbands seem far more willing to smash than to carry them outside and spare their lives. On the other hand, females/wives seem far more interested in having them removed from bathrooms, kitchens and bedrooms -- often by their male companion. Just another gender stereotype floated out there to keep AA on her toes.