Canadian Invasion

hopefully this will stay as short as I intend it to.

After blogging yesterday, I went downstairs for some much needed Jesus time - only to be distracted by the mob in my tiny front yard. We live just a few houses from the Arkansas River and a park that hosts a portion of the 80,000 Canadian geese that live here in Wichita. Recently, signs have been posted by the river that say, "please do not feed the wildlife" - meaning Canadian geese as there are only a few other examples of "wildlife" that frequent the river's edge to get food from people. Last week I saw someone standing between two signs feeding the geese and wished I'd had my camera with me.

Here is the problem: When I saw them in MY yard yesterday I was mortified. While wondering why on earth they might be motivated to come up our street this far, I started counting them. One, Two, Eleven, Eighteen . . . . Our duplex mate's door slammed and I watched her from my window as she happily fed them from her (our) front porch. And I thought, I bet she isn't anticipating the amount of crap they will leave on our sidewalks. I bet she doesn't think my son will enjoy stepping in it. More counting - this time indexing the poops on just the sidewalk, not the grass. 10 poops.

I, on the other hand, might keep a collection of small rocks on the porch to keep them away. While I do not believe in cruelty to animals unless they are attacking you, I must admit a tiny flicker of celebration when I also saw for the first time, the other day, a late Canadian goose who had apparently had an unfortunate encounter with a vehicle on the highway.

Not a fan. AND, in defense of my rock collection - the geese are the size of my son and he reaches out to them but doesn't have food in his hand. Preventative measures.