Ganged Up On By Geese

One of the most butterfly related things I do as a butterfly keeper is feed the butterflies. They drink a nectar made up of primarily sugar water from hexagonal plates, which need to be changed out every day. This is much more time consuming and laborious than one might initially think, and requires hauling a heavy black cart through narrow passageways, across rugged terrain and into the greenhouse.

Normally, this trek goes undisturbed, but recently I've become engaged in a bit of a turf war. There are these two geese who live in the village, and they've decided that their new roosting spot is the path I take to the greenhouse. They've also decided that they absolutely hate the cart. I dunno if it wears opposing colors, forgot to pay their toll or whatever, but they hate this cart. Before this, I'd heard a goose honk, and almost bleat, but never hiss. Everytime that cart goes by, one goose hisses, the other honks.

After finishing up in the greenhouse this morning, it was a little different, though. I was leaving, and through the doorway, I saw one of the geese, and it looked as if it was waiting for me, well, the cart anyway. I opened the door and began to consider how I should approach it without bothering it too much, and I heard this rap-click-tap. Looking down, I saw the other goose right outside the door, at the angle where it opens, attacking the cart. What was the other goose doing? I swear to God it was playing lookout.

I was a bit shaken from this unprovoked assault and closed the door, bringing the cart back. I rap-click-tapped back on the glass, but the goose was undeterred. I thought of radioing for assistance, but didn't want to become a joke.

So I used my big-boy voice.

"Let's go!" I shouted gruffly at the geese. That seemed to get their attention, and I was able to corral them a bit, enough to get to the fork in the path. It was then that my cart was attacked again, and I decided to take the lower route. Apparently the lower path, the long way to my working area, isn't part of their territory, so I escaped, further unmolested.

I've decided I should get one of those signs for my cart, one that says, "Please do not heckle, vex, annoy...the keepers"

Pssh, bullies.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.7

Henry's

I was in Henry's the other day, wearing a hunter green shirt I got from the Roar & Snore team training event we had at work a few days back. It says Wild Animal park on the breast (it's from last season) and has a very large picture of a cheetah on the back. So there's the back story.

I walked through the produce, heading towards the tangelos. The price was four pounds for a dollar, which is reasonable for organic fruit, and the last ones I bought were particularly sweet, so I made a special trip back out for more. On my way towards the check-out stand, I noticed an older woman dropping a box of strawberries. She looked embarrassed and didn't immediately make an attempt to reach down and get them. I wasn't sure if she had a bad back or what, so I reached down and picked them up. I told her she ought to put the box on the loading cart an employee had left behind. I went to walk away and she stopped me.

"Do you know which is a good box to buy?" she asked me.

"Ummm, I'm not sure, I usually just grab the reddest ones," I said kinda laughing.

She looked at me like I had offended her, or not met some kind of certain expectations. She opened her mouth as if to start saying something and stopped, looking quite puzzled.

"Don't you..." she mumbled and trailed off.

I realized what the confusion was.

"Oh, I'm sorry ma'am, I don't work here," I said as politely as I could. And I turned around and left, sure now that she could see the very large cheetah on my back.

When I turned around I was face to face with a portly man, with thick glasses resting on equally thick skin.

"Are you going to be stocking any more pitted prunes?" he asked me.

"Uhhh..." I said, about to break the news to him, too.

"He doesn't work here," the elderly woman now behind me said, informing him of the news.

The man looked down at my shirt, looked up at me, standing there with an oddly apologetic look on my face and kept walking.

I continued to the check-out stand and bought my tangelos. The checker asked me if I worked at the Park, and we chatted a bit about that as I paid.

Learn to Yearn?

What vain striving it may be
To try and see what angels see,
As they sit majestically
Upon their clouds in Heaven.

And yet we sit with stalwart gaze
Toward the ethereal haze,
Pondering just what the days
Will be like in Heaven.

And sitting here unhappily,
Looking forward, forgetting we
Often never quite fully
Enjoy the time we're given.