So here’s the thing. I hate geese. I’m terrified of them. I think they’re horrible, evil creatures that want only one thing, and that’s my blood. Mine, personally. I’m not sure if I wronged geese as a species in a former life or what, but they hate me and I them.

I’m actually okay with geese – as long as there is a pane of glass, a cage, or a very large man separating me from them. Yesterday at work we noticed a whole family of geese waddling through our parking lot. There were several adults and a few cute fluffy little goslings. I gushed over how cute the geese were and took pictures of them – through the window, from the safety of my office.

I pulled up to work this morning and noticed the whole flock was out in the front yard. The little goslings were all eating some flesh some grass or something and the adult geese were there as well. I thought it was so darn adorable I snapped a picture.

I watched them for a while and then got bored, and collected my things getting ready to walk into work. It was then that it dawned on me that the tree they were all gathered around was directly in front of the front door, and that I’d have to walk by the whole damn bunch of them to get to it. Visions of screaming and feathers flying through the air while I was honked and bitten to death filled my head and I froze.

What was I going to do? Suddenly, I had an idea. I took what was left of my blueberry muffin, slowly opened the door and began throwing it at the geese. They stopped and looked at me. One hissed, and I might have peed my pants a little. They began waddling after my offering and I slowly made my way out of the car. I walked to the passenger side, one eye on the geese and the other on my destination. It was then that they ran out of muffin and all of their evil, horrible little heads turned to look at me. They started inching toward me and I freaked out. I threw more muffin at them. I think it mostly just made them mad because they sent this asshole to come get me.

I leaped back into the car, slamming the passenger door behind me. I frantically texted my husband, letting him know that geese were after me, that I loved him, and not to let Nellie forget me. The goose disappeared from sight for a moment until reappearing right outside the window.

I pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I was going to get eaten alive by geese when this one finally waddled away and I could actually plan my escape. I quickly gathered my belongings, exited the car and sprinted to our back door, where I prayed my key worked in the lock. Luckily for me, it did and I am alive and well enough to tell the tale of how I almost got killed by geese.

The moral of the story is: geese suck and I’m a big fucking wuss. The end.


  1. I think you know I don’t usually curse on the internets. So allow me to stress the importance of what I’m about to say.

    Geese are fucking scary and mean and horrible animals that want to kill you.

    I know. I’ve been attacked by more than one and it’s probably the most terrifying experience ever. Because dude… it’s a bird. You can’t kick it, you’ll break all it’s bones! The noise they make when in attack mode is enough to make me pee myself and curl into the fetal position and start bawling. I’m so glad you survived your encounter with them.
    Beth @ Me as a Mommy recently posted..PBJ Boutique Now OPEN!

  2. I got bit by a goose as a kid. Fear For Your Life.

    Those damn things HURT.
    Andrea, The Blogging Mama recently posted..Let’s do the hustle {7 days to go}

    • As I said to Beth above – thank you for justifying my terror. My husband and coworkers are both making fun of me. “They can’t bite!” NO BUT THEY CAN PINCH DAMNIT

  3. hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Thanks for making my day :-)

  4. Camille Gabel says:

    LOL! Geese are mean buggers! Glad you made it out alive.

  5. Geese. Don’t get me started. But, here goes: They are gross. Between the poop everywhere — and I mean everywhere — and the squawking, and the fact that they run in packs (You know what that is? A gang. That’s right. Who trusts gangs? Remember West Side Story?). They are mean and they think they run the place. I’m saying all this because I’m often confronted by them when I visit my elderly aunt who lives “by the water” — and we’re not talking beach. *frown* She’s been living where she’s been living since forever, and I’ve been visiting her for almost as long. I know the Lord knows this is not coming from a mean place, but I’ll be very happy when La Familia has to move her out of that place and as far away from those feathered gangsters as possible.
    Brainy Pint Sizer recently posted..History. Cherry Blossoms. Teenagers (and 20-somethings). I better bring my travel liquor.

  6. Melissa says:

    How about NOT feeding the animal you’re trying to escape from next time? Try that out and let me know how it goes. :) LMAO at that!

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