Mother Goose Day

Mother Goose Day

It was Mothers’ Day and murder was the last thing on my mind. 

I had plans to meet some friends for brunch, and got up early to blow off some steam and exercise my demons; Willow, River and Belle. The dogs loved running along behind the bike. With the dogs, I set a good pace, dogs happen to make the most excellent personal trainers and I had three of them! 

Being May in Manitoba, there was no way that any of us were going to come back home without being covered in mud or ticks. But Blue skies beckoned, it was going to be an epic ride. 

Confident in their training, I ran the dogs off leash. As long as we were moving forward, they were easy to keep close. 

Those days we biked along the maintenance road that ran parallel to the CN tracks. It was a little piece of paradise right in the middle of the city. In an hour, we would cross the perimeter and be biking out on the bush trails. 

The railroad allowance was used as a highway for many of Mother Nature's creatures. With a deep ditch down side, it offered a swath of green that ran right through the busy urban center of Winnipeg. We would often see deer, fox and ducks as we traveled. 

This particular ride, being in the middle of Manitoba May, things were a little wet. ANd by a little, I mean a lot. It was muddy. Sticky. Boggy. A real leg burner slog of a ride. I adjusted my speed, shifted gears, gritted my teeth and pushed through. Occasionally I had to spit a chunk of mud out from between my teeth, but onwards we plunged. 

Until we didn’t. Onwards that is. I plunged. Downwards. The front of my bike made a splurging sound, and was sucked rather quickly down into the mud. I watched as the spokes started to inch down, and down into the soft mud. I pushed harder down on the pedal, leaning forward. The bike moved, a huge chuck of mud came up, and shot all over my legs, my feet, the chain and bottom half of the bike. We shot forward out of the mud. 

Then suddenly stopped. I pushed harder. Nothing. I stood up, gaining some torque down on the pedals. Nothing. I glanced down, a small rock, encased in a large hunk of mud, was caught on the chain. Placing my feet down on the soft mud, I began to sink in. I didn’t have much time to clear the chain, before my feet became encased and I joined the landscape permanently. 

Reaching down with my fingers to clear the chain, I smiled down at my dogs. River and Belle, always in tandem, were right behind me, Willow was a little further off, just sniffing and enjoying the day. My dogs were my joy, my family. I felt so blessed to be out here enjoying life with them! 

A life that even now was being threatened. 

“HISSSSSS”

I heard the bone chilling sound, I felt fear grip my stomach. There was only one animal that made a noise like that. 

A Canada Goose. 

I looked up. There in the long grass not three feet from my face, stood one pissed off goose. We were in his territory, and we were going to pay the price. 

I smiled nervously at it. Hopefully charm would buy us a few vital seconds to put some distance between the Cobra Chicken and my furry family. 

“Girls, let's go!” I stood on the pedals, cranking down. Nothing. The chain was stuck.

“HISSSSSSSS”

As it released its demon sound, I felt its hot breath burning my leg.

I dismounted, and tossed the bike, along with 300 pounds of mud on the tires, up and over my shoulder. A fireman's carry. I was going to get us out of there. 

I began to run. One foot in front of the other. 

“HISSSSSSSS”  “HISSSSSSSS”

Now there were two of them.  The first one, stood up, and began to beat its wings on its chest. It was establishing it’[s dominance. I was happy to let it go. Run away! Live another day. No shame in that. 

Except, my feet weren’t moving. The weight of the bike, all the extra mud, I was sinking into the muck. Slowly, but surely, I was watching my hikers slowly sink deeper and deeper. 

The first goose took this as an opportunity to laugh it’s attack. It reared up and stuck out with its serpentine neck. I felt it make contact with my skin. Its sharp teeth tearing flesh. This goose was clearly out for a pound of flesh. Now that it had a taste of mine, I was marked for death. 

Which is where the hero of the story enters. River, watching all this unfold, jumped between me and the goose. She was prepared to lay her life on the line for me. Which, to be fair, had happened a lot. Together we had fought off bears, wolves and packs of politicians. 

But a goose? This was too much to bear. The goose turned its attention from me, my blood dripping from its bill. Red eyes intent on destroying my heart dog. 

The second goose stepped up and stood beside its comrade. It was too much to bear. I'm not ashamed to admit, a sob wrenched itself from my chest. I wailed in pain and anguish. My River dog was going to be torn apart right in front of my eyes. 

I lifted the bike from my shoulders, and threw it overheard at the murderous pair. I was hoping to buy us time. I was hoping there wouldn’t be more bloodshed. 

The second goose saw the bike flying towards its mate. It grabbed the front wheel and threw the bike off course and further into the mud. Both geese laughed and cackled evilly at me. 

My knees began to shake. I balled my hands into fists. I was ready to fight. Belle stepped in. She was still young. Never having been in a fight in her life. Belle, River and I stood shoulder to shoulder. Facing down the geese. Three against two. Good versus Evil. The geese saw they were outnumbered, and started to gnash their terrible teeth. They waved their terrible eyes. They rattled their wings like sabers. But they didn’t advance. 

We were at a draw. The geese no longer having the advantage might let us go. 

I began to wiggle my feet. Never unlocking my eyes from the demon birds in front of us. I felt my heel begin to loosen. I pulled my foot out, clear from my shoe, and placed a socked foot on more solid ground behind me. Losing a shoe was better than losing a life. In battle, there would be casualties, and losing a shoe was the cost of war. 

As we began to slowly back away, tensions still high. A baby gosling, all yellow fluffy and evil, poked its little head out of the tall grass behind its parents. The first gosling was followed in quick succession by 2, 3, 4, 10 more. The baby goslings surrounded their parents. It was Mothers Day. The little evil family of geese were together. My heart softened. Maybe the geese were protecting their family, just as I was protecting mine. As brutal as nature can be, there's beauty there too. 

Willow came bounding up behind us. Took one look at the situation and took immediate action. She ran in behind the goose family, lips pursed, and sucked a gosling straight up. Gone.

Her eyes lit up, a smile spread across her face. She slurped up another and another. 

All Hell broke loose. 

The goose parents, fury ignited, took aim at Belle. The smallest easiest target. One grabbed her by the neck, flipped her down on the ground, while the other began to beat her with its wings. Belle, always stoic, refused to give them the satisfaction of crying. She struggled, but the geese outweighed her. Frantically, she was kicking and squirming, but the geese were flocked all around her. Plucking her fur and goosing her skin. 

I launched a well placed kick, but without a shoe on, it was less dramatic than I care to admit. A soft thud echoed as I made contact with the side of the goose’s head. The kick served its purpose, as the goose turned its attention to me. Swaying its long neck, it came in at me like a boxer on pay-per-view TV. All trash talk and fast footwork. I ducked. Threw a punch. The goose dodged it. Struck out with impossible speed and ripped a chunk off my cheek. We danced. Trading blows for a bite. Over and over. 

I was keeping an eye on my dogs. River and Belle had begun to turn the tide. The goose was on its back. Lashing out with its talons and clawing at Belle. Its wings beat against River. 

Willow ran in, grabbed more of the goslings and swallowed them up. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. One after another. A grin spread across her face. The goslings didn’t even have time to cry out in alarm. They were just gone. 

Willow provided the distraction. Giving enough time for RIver to jump in and finish the fight. The goose had fought well, and River delivered a powerful bite. It was the dignified death of a warrior. 

River and Belle turned their attention to the fight I was in. The remaining goose, fueled by hatred, took a reckless charge at me. Neck poised, mouth open. Teeth glistening in the sun. It spit blood and ran for my throat. By instinct, I reached out, grabbed it by the neck,and used the goose's own momentum to swing it up and over my shoulder. The goose launched up and into the sky. Hissing as it was launched over us. The goose spread its dark evil wings, took two mighty flaps and circled. 

Death from above. It was going to rain hell down upon us. Talons spread out, it let out a scream. 

“DUCK!” I yelled. 

Which apparently got WIllow really excited. She began to peer around looking for a duck. But she didn’t find any duck delicacy, she only found the last gosling. Willow raced in, grabbed the little baby evil in her front teeth and tossed it up into the air above her head. 

The goose was descending. The gosling was ascending. Willow leapt up into the air, mouth open wide. Her eyes were locked on the goose, but her mouth was directed towards the gosling. With a gush of air, and a large gulp the gosling disappeared forever. 

The goose, seeing the battle was over, turned course and spun off in the sky. Screaming as it carried itself off towards the horizon. 

I looked down at my girls. River and Belle were bruised and battered. Willow was full.  Their bravery and heroism had averted a Where the Red Fern Grows moment. My little family would be okay. 

Happy Mothers Day to everyone, except the geese!