Christmas was the name of the youngest goose at the farm, named so by P for her destination as this year's Christmas dinner.
When I quit the farm a few weeks ago it was in part because of the geese flock. Everyone at the farms deals with the geese by picking up sticks and threatening the geese. Granted, the geese, especially two of the ganders, are a bit vicious, and once one of them left a bruise the size of a grapefruit on K's calf.
A little while ago I discovered if I tossed a handful of cracked corn where I would rather the geese be, the geese would run over to the corn cackling and be distracted long enough for me to pass. This was quite convenient when going through a gate, since they have a habit of running from one gate to the other and many times I ran through a gate and across the road to the hill with the flock in hot pursuit. I found the whole situation annoying, and was quite pleased with myself finding the corn solution. No one else used corn, and the geese weren't stupid; many a morning I pulled into the farm to have the flock rush to the car in greeting.
Well, P was going through a bitchy phase, and was frequently making complaints about things that had to do with my work and the way I do things. One day I overheard heard her saying something about not being stupid enough to give the geese corn, and that was the predecessor to a huge fall out. I did agree to continue working at the farm, but one day recently the geese were at the gate, and I thought I would ask Boss if I could use the corn, and she told me to herd them into the garden instead. Well, I was too busy to take the time to herd the geese, so I just worked around them and had to bring the horses in the other gate.
When I arrived on Saturday I learned that Boss was taking Christmas up north for processing, and I agreed to help corral the geese at the end of the shift.
The geese had to be locked out of the gate so they wouldn't get into a place we couldn't catch them, and as I was heading up to the hill, the flock rushed me at the gate with both my hands filled with the containers of goat grain. Normally , I would have thrown them a handful of grain and continued in peace, but I had been banned, so I decided to run for it. Then my coat snagged on the fence and I was trapped like a fish on a hook. All I could see was the giant bruise that was coming, and I let our a huge swear and threw the containers at the geese and tore myself free, The poor geese really didn't know what was going on with their corn lady!
At the end of the shift I helped Mr. Boss ready the box for transporting the goose; putting in some hay and holes in the container, and then we moved in on the flock. Christmas broke from the corner and ran by me-I touched her wing but didn't want to grab it, so we cornered them again, The plan was for Mr. Boss to catch her, but again she broke in my direction, following the meanest gander, and I rushed in and grabbed her neck an scooped her up with my other arm and headed for the box. She had a wing free, and I didn't want to stop- being afraid of the other geese- and she flapped and looked at me with her brown eye and honked, like "what are you doing to me?"
"Sorry," said the corn lady as I put her in the box.
Well, when their Christmas dinner is nice and juicy this year, maybe they will thank me for fattening her up on corn. (sarcasm)
