Take Out

The Osprey was busy this afternoon fetching meals for the family.  He was doing a lot better at it than the human fishers patiently casting lines into the water. They finally gave up after he wowed them with his impressive demonstration of how it's done. 

My injured goose has caught the attention of a couple of neighbors who are launching their own rescue attempt.  I know one of them and we’re trying to coordinate to catch him but another neighbor came along this afternoon with her own plan.  I know her heart was in the right place but all she did was chase the poor goose all over the yard, occasionally throwing a blanket at him.  I tried to tell her that wouldn’t work but she wasn’t going to listen.  I don’t know why the goose didn’t just head for the water.  It was painful to watch him try to get away from her and her blanket.   By the time she gave up I was frustrated, and in tears and I’m sure the goose was exhausted.  I thought that I would just quickly put an end to the whole thing, grab him, put him in the crate and everything would be okay.  I got my bag of goose treats and lured him up on the porch.  Sadly, in my haste to end his torture, I neglected to grab him correctly and he not only got away but slashed my arm in the process.   I’m still not sure what he slashed me with since he has flipper feet and no teeth but something sharp got me.  It took me three hours (mostly waiting) in the emergency room to get a tetanus shot and my wound dressed.  That makes it sound worse than it was, but there was a surprising amount of blood.   I tried to make it crystal clear to all medical staff that I was the one who did the attacking, not the goose.  It seems that every time I hear of a wild animal attacking a human, the animal gets the raw end of the deal and I don’t want anyone showing up to “get rid of” the dangerous goose.  Tomorrow I’ll wave my bandaged arm at the neighbor with the blanket and perhaps it will deter her until my blipbuddy Mary Jo is able to help.