There is a flock of Canada Geese that calls my workplace home. Each spring I get to marvel at the miracle of life as a dozen or more goslings teeter uncertainly about the grounds, growing in their plumage and learning to forage. I used to think it was really cool that we always had geese around, but I’ve since decided that I’m tired of sitting in my car, waiting for angry, hissing, honking birds to get out of my way. You see, when I was very young, my mother accidentally trampled me while trying to escape an attacking goose and I think the repressed memory is starting to make me paranoid. Maybe I’m being silly, but I feel like every goose I pass is giving me the “stink-eye” and daring me to get close enough for a good pecking. I’m not sure anything can be done to manage the geese, but I do recall seeing one laid out on the side of the road a few years ago and thinking to myself that someone, somewhere was due a very enthusiastic high-five. In the end, I guess I just have to learn to live with it. But, if you ever see me walking to the car with my legs protectively bubble-wrapped, you’ll know why!