GNN: A Twist

Goose News Network (GNN)

I’m back from vacation and would you believe, I thought about these silly geese almost daily while I was gone. In fact, there was a funny incident where we saw some geese somewhere in Germany, and I said to Ross, probably a dumb question but are there Canadian geese in Europe? He replied, DUH, NO MOM, CANADA? And I said, of course, of course. A couple of days later, in Luxembourg, we saw Canadian geese by the water. And Ross immediately retracted his earlier words and apologized for saying my question was dumb.

Anyway, I didn’t ride Metro yesterday because I just didn’t feel like it on my first day back, but I rode this morning, mostly so I could check in on Rosemary and Joseph. Sure enough, there was Rosie, sitting on her nest in the median:

Rosemary aka Mother Goose

I kept a respectful distance, as I always do, but as I was slowly walking towards her, I noticed this:


Look – it’s one lonely goose egg in a hole, a few feet away from where our avian heroine was busy incubatin’. How? Why? Was this the original nest and she had to move to another one? Or did she remove the doomed egg from her nest? Or maybe some curious human moved it?

As soon as I boarded the train, I Googled, “why do geese abandon eggs.” And I learned that the Humane Society has a “Canada Goose Egg Addling Protocol” – addling means “loss of development” and there’s a contraceptive drug that can, with a federal permit, be administered to reduce hatching in order to “manage population humanely.” Geese who consume the contraceptive will lay eggs, but those eggs won’t hatch. They’re infertile. There are other ways to addle eggs, too.

Yes, I know that it’s important to control the goose population, for a bunch of reasons, but I’d be lying if I said this didn’t make me feel kind of sad, to think that some goose mamas lay and incubate eggs that never hatch.

Is that what’s up with the mystery egg? Perhaps it happened naturally. It stands to reason that it might.

I pondered this as I walked towards the station. All the way on the other side of the garage, I found Joseph, perched atop a sewer lid in the bank leading to the station entrance:


That’s the farthest I’ve seen him from Rosemary. Did they have a tiff? Are they grieving? Is she giving him the silent treatment?

Am I over-anthropomorphizing these geese?

Probably. But that’s OK; this is entertainment, not science.

Stay tuned!


GNN: One Job

Goose News Network (GNN)

On this sunny Tuesday February March morning, Mother Goose, AKA Rosemary, was sitting atop her nest. Which is good, because you have one job, Rosie

Despite my respectful distance, Rosie’s glare was unmistakable. She was on high alert.

We parked halfway down Rosemary’s median strip; other cars had already filled in. But where was Big Daddy?


Papa Goose – let’s call him Joseph – was the whole way over by the garage, pretty far from the nest. For sure, more than honking distance. I postulate that Joseph was giving Rosie some space. Because he’s been through this before with her, he knows the only right answer when Mama is on the nest is, “Yes, dear. Absolutely. Whatever you say.” He okeydokes her, then slowly backs away.

I’ve been pregnant three times, and while I am sure it doesn’t quite equate to sitting on a nest full of eggs, I don’t blame Rosie for becoming snappish. Do her feet get pins and needles? Or cramps? Do her hips hurt? (Do geese even have hips?) I’d be grouchy, too, if all I could do was just sit there. BORING. All that waiting and sitting and waiting and sitting and nothing is happening, but her instincts dictate that she cannot ever leave, because she has to protect those eggs from the big loud machines that come and go and also from the mammals that hurry by.

So, I’m giving Joseph the benefit of the doubt. He knows when his woman needs her space. He’ll check in shortly, once they’ve both cooled off a bit, to see if she wants anything – some ginger ale, maybe, or perhaps a cup of tea.

Joseph has one job, too.

Friends of the GNN, I will not be visiting our avian friends between March 7 and 17. Reports will resume the week of March 18. If any of you have occasion to take Metro from Shady Grove, do plan on parking in the front lot outside the larger (“new”) garage and report back!



(Cue the music… wait for it… there. The player’s at the bottom if you want to turn it off, but seriously, why would you not want to listen to this song?)

I’d like to share a few random thoughts this Thursday.  Three things, in fact.  But I can’t call it Three Thing Thursday because Chesapeake Bay Woman coined and patented that term, and she’d be hosting it today on her blog if The Lord God Himself hadn’t sent her a message in the form of a lightning strike that fried her dial-up modem. And The Lord Said: GET BROADBAND ALREADY. (And a surge protector.)  I hear she’ll have it by the weekend.  Meanwhile, you can settle for me:


You know how in infomercials, there’s always that black & white footage of a harried, disheveled, completely frustrated person, sighing and rolling their eyes and blowing their hair out of their face, doing it “the old way,” having not yet been saved by the product that’s being sold?  I wanna know how I can be that actor.


During Seth’s 8th grade interminable promotion ceremony, millions of many awards were given out for everything from academic excellence and potential to citizenship and community service to perfect attendance. One of the math teachers was presenting a series of awards, and as she read the text, prepared by another teacher, describing the student, she said that he was the epi-TOME of blah blah blah I stopped listening to the rest because oh no did that middle school teacher, a native English speaker who must hold at least one college degree, really prononunce it epi-TOME??? I whirled around, eyes wide, and said to my friend’s mother, “Well, she is a Math teacher…” and Mom replied, “Does that mean she doesn’t have to speak English??”  gah.


When I left the farm, I thought my days of sidestepping animal poo were behind me. However, thanks to the thousands of many geese who make my suburban Metro station their home, I can continue to dodge and juke, just like in the country. These satanic fowl are fond of dropping their doody in the middle of the sidewalks, the parking lot, or really, anywhere they feel the urge.


And a bonus tune, because I can’t get it out of my head, but it makes me happy and mellow, and we all could use a little of that on a Thursday.
Free MP3 Downloads at