I've got geese. They live in my parking lot at the good ol' extended stay hotel. I don't know where they actually came from...I just know that now they like to hang out around my car.
Have I also mentioned my fear of animals in their natural habitat? Ok, I know that the Residence Inn and backyard of the Shell Station aren't exactly "natural habitats," but still. These quacking killers are not on a leash, and I consider any open area not surrounded by a pen "the wild." I think the real fear of geese/ducks/chickens began back when I worked summers with my dad at Maxwell Air Force Base. We'd occasionally have lunch by the lake and there was a little bastard with a clubbed webbed foot and a Napoleon complex. He'd stalk us and peck me and leave me stressed out and-in the end-mentally scarred. Buuhh. Just the thought gives me shivers.
I also fear that I'm going to become the next Dwight Shrute by hitting a goose with my car and bring it in to the office to prepare and enjoy.
I accidentally ran over it. It's a Christmas miracle!...He was already dead, and we Schrutes use every part of the goose. The meat has a delicious smoky rich flavor. Plus, you can use the molten goose grease and save it in the refrigerator, thus saving you a trip to the store for a can of expensive goose grease.
I do hope for my own mental and job stability that these suckers migrate. And fast. However, if the next time you see me I am decked out in mustard-colored shirts and challenge you to a game of beet trivia...It may just be too late.