irascible goose

For the second day in a row, out the front door, I could hear but not see a group of Canada geese flying north in their springtime ritual. The clouds and rain may camouflage the flight, but the noise is somehow reassuring ... as long as they don't land on my lawn.

I wonder if there is another creature for which the word "irascible" is so well tailored. Geese strike me as unendingly cranky. And if they crap on your lawn ... well, ick, and not just "ick," but an arrogant, me-first "ick" that defies all critics: This is MY universe!

Still, as guardians of the keep, as watch dogs around many an ancient fortress, was there any more reliable alarm than a gaggle of geese? "Get the fuck out of my territory!" they would announce to all comers, foe and friend alike. Guard dogs might sleep, but not the geese.

At a distance and in their chorus, the passing geese smooth the cowlicks of my mind: "God's in heaven and all's right with the world." But up close and personal -- "Get thee behind me, Satan!"