That’s a Mean Goose

by practicalspactical

Looking out my bathroom window this morning, a flock of geese were strolling across my back lawn, phalanx style, something spooked them a bit maybe, and they start flapping their wings to propel themselves forward–almost taking into flight, but not quite, just using it to run, float, bounce–a neat trick, I think, and I saw one goose, out on the right wing, get all rough and start chasing the one to its right–fierce, fierce like, and then it broke off the chase and returned to formation–leaving the one it chased way out, separate, lonesome.

I thought to myself, that’s a mean goose.

But then I thought, is that right, can a goose be mean? Isn’t that antropomorphizing the goose a bit?

Fair enough, myself says to myself. Hostile, then. That goose is definitely hostile.

What did the other goose fear, then? Not shame. Not loneliness. Fear?

I think of the base feelings we share with goose, the base behaviors. Fear. Hunger. Pain.

Joy? Satisfaction?

What are the things we can think, we can feel, with our birdbrains?