Spring has sprung (here on Salford Quays of Manchester where the Professional Moron office resides – if it hasn’t sprung in your region TOUGH!) and this means local wildlife and fauna return to make merry with the citizens of the area.
Mr. Wapojif’s particular favourite are the Canadian Geese (Branta canadensis) – they’re prone to being temperamental and, by heck, they sure do like free bread. As do all the other ducks, pigeons, seagulls, and geese of the region.
Anyone who does go to feed bread to the birds kicks off an almighty scene of carnage as, with excited honking and squawking, all of a sudden hundreds of birds descend on the area at speed just to get access to some free bread. It’s quite the spectacle, and makes for a mildly terrifying slice of amusement.
The Canadian Geese, though, are awesome. There are two in particular who peruse the pavements in search of bread, and they waddle about the place with no fear of humans.
Mr. Wapojif sees them every morning (during the warmer months) on his way to work and he usually quips “Good morning” to them as they stare at him as if he is the Bread Delivery Human. One time he got too close and got a:
Hiss for his troubles. Cripes! On Wikipedia this behaviour is explained thusly, “Geese have a tendency to attack humans when they feel themselves or their (Ryan) goslings to be threatened. First the geese will stand erect, spread their wings and produce a hissing sound. Next, the geese will charge.
They may then bite or attack with their wings.” Now the thought of one of these maniacs charging Mr. Wapojif down isn’t quite what he wants first thing in the morning, so he (and you) should give these moody thugs a wide berth. It’s either that or explain to your bosses,
“I am late for work as I had to go to hospital after being assaulted by a goose.”
Doesn’t look good on the end of year report, does it? Now… despite this moodiness Mr. Wapojif has great regard for these dudes.
They migrate a lot and they don’t even need Sat Nav or GPS to do it. It’s but quite the sight to see them going like the clappers through the air in the V formation.
How do they do it? Only they know, and they sure as hell aren’t going to let you in on the secret. Not even for a slice of bread! Gallant little sods.