They shit. They shit everywhere. Green, slimy, on-the-sidewalk poop. And yet, they are charismatic, beautiful creatures.

With heads held high, they chatter loudly, shouting news from the rooftops and prancing about the lake, quarreling like old, grouchy ladies. They are nearly fearless, letting my pups and I walk right by without taking flight. They just squawk and keep on keeping’ on…doing I don’t know what. Maybe having a gander at the ice-tipped grass?!

One cold, winter morning they didn’t seem too concerned that my goose was cooked after taking a tumble on the slippery sidewalk. They just kept on chatting nearby, probably about what a silly goose I was, plopping down in their gooey crap and not getting back up. At least they didn’t attack me…maybe because they thought I was the goose that would lay the golden egg?!

Percy and Lola, my wanna-be-big-hunting-dogs (aka fluffy little white things), weren’t much help, either. Rather, they engaged in a wild-goose chase, barking maniacally before the geese finally took flight, screeching their disgust at the disruptive fluff balls and shaking their fancy feathers. As they fluttered to the frozen lake, I slowly arose, wiped goose-poop off my butt, and headed home for my peaceful, quiet world without the big birds.

So yes, they shit. And they shit everywhere. Green, slimy, on-the-sidewalk poop. But they are beautiful, charismatic creatures. I’m glad they live in my neighborhood.