If you don't read
John Gray's blog, you are doing yourself a disservice. John writes with humor, grit, and compassion about life, love, and work in, as he puts it, "a tiny Welsh village". One of my favorite recurring topics on his blog is his adoption of
Camilla, a foundling
Canada goose (Branta canadensis), far from her ancestral homeland. I don't know if John is in the market for another Canada goose, but I almost tripped over an injured goose while walking on a very slippery site on a beautiful moonlit night. I managed to "herd" the goose to one of our buildings, where it would be able to take shelter:
Here's a closeup of the bird's head
The flash produced a nice eyeshine in the goose's
eye, but nothing on a
slow lotis' eyeshine.
I'd ship the goose to John at Trelawnyd, but the freight costs would be prohibitive. I left a note for the day shift, and left out a list of animal rehabilitators that we keep in our logbook. Usually, with a wild goose, the rehabilitator will release the bird back on our property (though certain of my coworkers would no doubt prefer relocation). There's a slim chance that this goose would end up as a roommate for our old friend
George.
2 comments:
Haha, yes I bet some co-workers do not like the copious amounts of goose poop that can build up.
~
Nature, in her eloquent fullness, has delivered unto you a gift of finest quality injured goose. You disrespect her by not accepting it.
A quick twist, clean out the middle bits, a dunk in boiling water to assist in the plucking (with the bonus pile of resultant goose down), stuffed with granny smith apples and roasted in a hot oven over a dripping pan partially filled with red wine, basted with butter to create that perfect crackling goose skin...
The richness of wild goose is unlike anything you can buy in a store - everyone would have been perfectly happy with such a sumptuous feast...
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