I don't like geese. In fact I just realised today that I'm not a big fan of any birds bigger than crows but that's neither here nor there.
Geese seriously freak me out. When I used to run through a local park early in the morning, many times I'd get chased and hissed at loud enough to hear through my headphones. Yes, I'm still talking about the geese. At the same park we have to wear rubber boots all spring because the goose poops are ankle deep. Yuck.
So anyway, you get the picture. I hate geese. But never so much as when they irritatingly get caught under the wheels of my minivan. Yup. Mama killed a living thing. And as much as I hate those stupid things, after the unfortunate incident I cried all the way home. I guess as much as I dislike geese, I hated taking a life even more. Ever since, I apologise under my breath when I see a goose by itself, thinking it's looking for its mate. And I can't pass by the spot without thinking about the moment of impact when the goose pretty much exploded like a down-filled pinata. And the feeling of its body under my car... sigh.
So now whenever you read my blog, know that I'm now an avian murderer. But at least I'm very sorry about it.