So this momma goose laid her eggs up on the roof of our office (a one story building). It’s a flat roof with a short rim around the edge. We knew once the eggs hatched, there would be no way for the chicks to get down. They finally hatched today (four of them), so we had to do something about them since there would be nothing for them to eat up there, and, it turns out, geese don’t feed their young like other birds.
Somehow, one of the chicks ended up on the ground, but we didn’t know how it got down. As I was going out to my car, I heard some noise in one of the gutter downspouts. That’s when I realized that’s probably how the first one got down, and now a second one was in there, sitting in an elbow up near the roof. I ended up going up onto the roof and scooping the two remaining into a box and brought them down to the parents. Then I had to get up onto a ladder, take apart the the downspout, and bring the last one down.
Our hero and a wild gosling chase! I called him up because poking him with a rotisserie fork requires geographical proximity. For example.
Tata: I like the pictures of the goslings running toward you. It’s like they’re in formation or something!
Sharkey: You can really see where the term “goose stepping” came from.
Tata: And look at them run away! Eeeeeee! It’s as if they’re running laps!
Sharkey: They were! And when I got close, they ran behind an HVAC system so I had to hide in the roof hatch.
Tata: You are the Terror of the Geese!
Sharkey: Then I took the ones in the box across the street and put the box down facing away from the parents.
Tata: I see you were wearing gloves.
Sharkey: I didn’t want to get human stink on them.
Tata: Good man.
Sharkey: Goslings are really soft.
Tata: Okay, now I’m worried.
I should knit him a flame-retardant Superman cape, in case he makes a hobby of protecting truth, justice and Canadian geese.