He keeps a lookout while his mate grazes the grass. Charges at me…honks at me if I get too close. He’s got more freedom than I do, because he’s got more guts than I do.
A gaggle of his buddies are lounging on nearby parking spots. It’s funny when they waddle across the street, oblivious to traffic, though, they likely know the cars will stop (we always do). But once in a while, you’ll see a goose carcass at the curb.
When I see him struggling to carry his weight, as he flies over the parking lot, and over my head, I wonder how hard it is to keep his belly in the air, for any length of time…and how much mileage he’s got tucked under his wings…and how many more years he’s got left to use up. Makes me think about my own body’s expiration date.
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