Some nature-boys/girls cut their scientific-teeth by going to live with chimps, gorillas, wolves, or even hyenas. I have no scientific teeth, or teeth of any kind, to explain why I went native with a crew of Canadian geese, but it sure as hell happened.
In order to effectively join a gaggle of geese I had to go deep-cover. Deep-cover in that I effectively became a goose, at least in my mind – I strutted around honking at everything-always-always honking, I ate nothing but grass (those bowel movements were rough…from all of the roughage), and I was out there in the open completely buck naked; super awkward as we were living behind a strip mall. Yo, when you go native with nature for “science” you have to go all in!
Here is a video of me as a Canadian goose. Honking and then taking a grass-rich dump is a sign of friendship and respect to us geese.
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Here are a couple of my homies in the gaggle:
When humans alter the landscape they can inadvertently create sweet habitat for certain animals. For us, living out of a strip mall in suburbia had everything that we could ever want: few predators, a tight little water-hole to linger around in, tons of that good-good grass to munch all day erry day, and a beautiful parking lot for us to absolutely shit all over. We geese know that humans love to step in our droppings so we make sure to spread it EVERYWHERE.
Oh, and there were plenty of fine looking little lady-honkers there too. Mmmm, those sexy little honkers had feathers in all of the right places, if ya know what I am saying.
To complete my deep-cover goose persona I got with a local goose-shortie that goes by the name of Honk-If-You-Are-Horny. She was as sassy as can be and had the cutest tail feathers that you ever saw. With her fine self strutting around the strip mall getting all of the other ganders worked up you can trust that I was going to make a move on her first. So, I honked.
And honked.
And honked.
And honked.
Yo, it wasn’t like I was enjoying all of that sweet honking or anything. It was just that, ya know, I had to honk her brains out for “science”. Anyway, all that honking and shortie came down with a case of eggs in the oven. My transition into the Canadian goose gaggle was now complete…for science!
Things were going well with my integration into the gaggle and I was happy – the crew was pecking at my junk a lot less than they had been, the cops had given up on trying to arrest me for being naked behind a strip mall, and I had Honk-If-You-Are-Horny in my life with some goslings on the way. Then, babymomma drama! Shortie ducked out on me (pun not intended because we are geese)!
Panicked, I looked everywhere for my girl: the tight water-hole, the shit covered parking lot, and even the local butcher shop in case, ya know, a worst case scenario happened. Nothing.
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My last hope was a local office building. I couldn’t think of why she would be in there unless she decided to get a job and raise those kids on her own. Doubtful, hurtful even, but I had to scout out this building just to be sure.
I checked every office, dropped a grass-loaf in their fancy human commode, and then finally crashed a meeting in the conference room. As the participants cursed me to put on pants and get the F out of their meeting I got a look out of the window. There was bae. And she on a nest!
I was definitely relieved to see her doing her maternal bird thing. I realized how clever shortie was in crafting her nest on top of one of the building entry ways. No doubt she did this to keep the eggs away from hungry bitches and definitely, definitely not to hide from me.
After the relief of finding her safe had faded and the numbness of that tasering wore off I started to think about my babymomma on her nest. Something I saw was really bothering me.
Oh no! Junior was cast out of the nest! Why, babe, why?? I trust that somehow Lady Honk-Honk knew that little SOB wasn’t developing. As nature is as cold and emotionless as a robot sent from the future to terminate the hope of mankind, she cast Junior adrift. Catch you on the flip-side, little guy.
Shortie obviously wanted some space to keep them young uns warm and I didn’t want to get tasered again, bro, so I let her do her thing. Still, in the back of my mind I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I gave her a few weeks and then went back into the building to go through the whole tasering scenario again just to see my sweetness baking them eggs up really nicely. That is when I saw it. That is when I saw disaster!
What happened? Why did she abandon our family? Was she run off by predators? Was the seed of our forbidden love so unnatural that it couldn’t develop into viable life? I didn’t know, but I had to find out.
I searched high and low to find Honk-If-You-Are-Horny including criss-crossing that shit minefield of a parking lot dozens of times stepping in every single crap-bomb. Then, finally, I found her.
Before I could start asking questions I saw all that I needed to see.
I was overjoyed at seeing that two of the eggs hatched into viable offspring. But wait, these goslings didn’t look like me at all. They looked like Anthony Edwards!
Heartbroken, I left the gaggle that day, put on pants, got some Arby’s, and rejoined society. Despite how things ended with Honk-If-You-Are-Horny, I look back on my time as a Canadian goose with fondness. I learned that life for animals that can adapt to man-made environments is pretty sweet. I also learned that shitting in places that people have to walk is time well spent. Here is to science!!
