My office has geese. Not, like, indoors; that would probably interfere with our business processes, and Baby Jesus knows we have more than enough problems already. No, the geese are outside, but they are plentiful, and they have distinctive personalities.

I know what you’re thinking; geese are geese, man! Even worse, they’re Canadians! But I tell you truly, these geese all behave completely differently. For example, there’s one that hangs out by the big pond out back, right next to the path I take to get into the building. It seems to have taken up permanent residence there, and has no apparent fear of humans. I walk within 2 feet of it at least twice a day and it barely even takes notice of me, preferring instead to eat pieces of grass and leave nasty green poop on the concrete sidewalk.

However, there are at least two more who see fit to avoid humans as much as they can, so they sit by themselves out by the running track, hissing at all passersby. (A hissing goose is HILARIOUS, if you haven’t seen it happen. They are the least threatening creatures I’ve ever seen.) By the sixth lap on the track, I’m openly yelling at them “Stop hissing at me! I’ve run by here 5 times already and have yet to threaten you!” But they never learn.

Those are the three that seem to be permanently on hand, but sometimes we’ll have entire flocks of them, splashing around in the pond, nearly getting run over in the parking lot, and hissing at the dreaded humans.

I guess I should be glad; my good buddy Kyle works in a place with a significant goose population, and one gander in particular actually started attacking folks because he thought they were fronting on his woman. Yelling “I have no interest in your woman, you feathered freak! Leave me alone!” had no effect. And in case you’re wondering what a goose attack is like, basically they run directly at you with their big wings a-flapping and hoping to maybe nip a bite out of your arm.

Kyle weighed his options: he could kick the bird’s ass, but he would feel guilty about it, and also probably be FOUND guilty of bird abuse by a court of law; he could call animal control, but figured there wasn’t much they could do other than take the bird away and probably kill it; or he could exercise the third option, which was to buy an air horn.

So Kyle went out, wandered up to the gander, which, as was its wont, came at Kyle with murder in his eyes, and Kyle fired off a blast from the air horn as soon as the bird got close. The bird immediately stopped, honked the goose-speak for “My bad, dude, I didn’t realize you were the head gander all up in this peace, I’ll be going now,” and shuffled back to his lady.

I’d give up to $100 to have video of this, btw.

(Speaking of Kyle, and of money, he and a lot of his close friends are Virginia Tech alumni, so this has been a tough week for all of them. I don’t really have anything useful to say that hasn’t been said elsewhere, so I’ll just link to the Hokie Spirit Memorial Fund and prevail upon you to donate some small amount of whatever vast cash reserves you may have.)

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