Marina Geese

I’ve learned a lot about geese in the last year. They’re good parents, they’re fiercely protective but oist of all they’re foul, potty mouthed birds.

When not crying ‘murder’ every five seconds during gosling season, the marina geese aren’t afraid to hold fire. Yesterday, when Sir Sid and Lady Vicious paraded the cygnets – allowing us mere mortals to bill and coo at their beauty – the gaggle of geese were forced to decamp for the sides. (No one or thing impedes Sir Sid.)

Now, I understand that geese have pride. But really? Did you have to carry on the tirade for a good few minutes?  He did not sink your armada. Scatter your fleet never to be seen again. He merely ensured you parted before his serene swan like majesty.

Telling him repeatedly to “F-off and die!” did not achieve anything – other than to turn The Lethbridge Stewart’s dogs into even greater curtain twitchers!

More dog snot on the windows. Great!