I've never lived with a goose. I hear they are good watchdogs but this one didn't get the memo that Granny "was the good one, leave her alone". Bite the hand that feeds you and you'll feed that hand.
Close around 75 cats and half dozen dogs in my life. None of them attacked. I broke up a cat fight once and got bit in the middle of that, but he lived another 10 years, quite apologetic. Never ate a goose either. I hear they are good with gravy.
Kate, the cat lady ( but not the Crazy Cat Lady) - she knows her critters, both two-legged and four-legged. I think maybe that goose was too ignorant to know about biting the hand that fed him. He learned his lesson.
Good visual! I remember when I was a child witnessing the "passing away" of a farm chicken. Not sure I'd have been a good farm girl... While grocery shopping for chicken now, I have to pay extra for the already cut up style as I nearly made myself sick when, in college years ago, I tried to save a few pennies by buying one whole and I couldn't stomach the necessary cutlery involved.
Ha ha ha! Terrific story. Yes. Meat is just meat when it is nicely wrapped in plastic wrap on a styrofoam tray in a bright shiny market. If you'd ever gone to an abattoir or a chicken "processing" plant, you would become vegetarian instantly...
Funny story, Rebecca. A lot of people feel just the same as your husband. They love a good broiled lamb chop, but would not want to witness the slaughter of the little baby creature....
Yup. My school friends all thought it was terrible that our bottle-fed lambs would end up in the pot - yet would still enjoy their Sunday roast. Hey ho.
Canadian goose on our table in the fall. Dad the surgeon did the cut up routine. Better than turkey and plenty leftovers along with goose wing feathers for our hats. Yes grandmas and grandpa s are remembered and loved passing their table manners down the line.
Not kidding. I remember grandma running to catch a fat hen and taking her to the chopping block with an axe. I watched and was revolted. And I will never forget the smell of boiling water on feathers. Ick! But when you are a kid and you are hungry, you ask no questions.
As I was writing this, I could hear my grandmother's old idioms running through my head. She used to say, "And then the shit really hit the fan!" You remember that one? And "Don't that beat all!"
Ha! Take that, Goose! - "he was running straight at her like some kind of Anserine missile." I've fended off such an attack, and on both occasions I missed my attempt at grasping him by the neck. Not running away, and well placed kicks, helps to stop the charge. I bet Easter dinner tasted good.
Feisty old broad. WOW! Then again, you had to be back then and back in those mountain communities. it was like the Ozarks. I can also relate to her goose adventure. While volunteering at the American Wildlife Rescue Service in Scotts Valley years ago, I had a similar relationship with a huge white goose. I would pick him up by his crooked neck and fling him across the yard, then run out of that pen before he could get back to me. Never tried to kill him, though. He wasn't my bird to kill. And that pesky little banty-rooster was a pain in the ... ankles too. I'd drop a bucket over him to keep him out of my way while I filled food and water bowls for the rest of the flock. Them's were the days, Sharron. Thank for this memory.
Great tale, Sharron! My mom lives with us and is a farm gal. From her stories, I can understand why things sometimes go next level!! (when poultry goes rogue)
Hi, I am reminded of the day - at least 70 years ago - when the lady next door killed a chicken to fix for dinner - chopped his head off. It was a common household chore for her, but I didn't eat chicken for quite a while.
Gosh, you've reminded me of my childhood, Sharron! We kept geese - they were mean and vicious and would grab hold of the fattest bit of my calves above the top of my welly boot and not let go!
Great story! The geese were our guard dogs, and our Christmas dinner.
Ha ha ha! Yeah. Me too. She was a tough old gal. I didn't appreciate her when I was a kid and I am sorry for it. But I sure do now and wish I could sit down and talk with her.
I've never lived with a goose. I hear they are good watchdogs but this one didn't get the memo that Granny "was the good one, leave her alone". Bite the hand that feeds you and you'll feed that hand.
Close around 75 cats and half dozen dogs in my life. None of them attacked. I broke up a cat fight once and got bit in the middle of that, but he lived another 10 years, quite apologetic. Never ate a goose either. I hear they are good with gravy.
Kate, the cat lady ( but not the Crazy Cat Lady) - she knows her critters, both two-legged and four-legged. I think maybe that goose was too ignorant to know about biting the hand that fed him. He learned his lesson.
Good visual! I remember when I was a child witnessing the "passing away" of a farm chicken. Not sure I'd have been a good farm girl... While grocery shopping for chicken now, I have to pay extra for the already cut up style as I nearly made myself sick when, in college years ago, I tried to save a few pennies by buying one whole and I couldn't stomach the necessary cutlery involved.
Ha ha ha! Terrific story. Yes. Meat is just meat when it is nicely wrapped in plastic wrap on a styrofoam tray in a bright shiny market. If you'd ever gone to an abattoir or a chicken "processing" plant, you would become vegetarian instantly...
When I first cooked a meal for my now-husband he walked past me as I was cutting up some raw chicken.
'I could be vegetarian', he told me.
'Gosh,' I thought, 'have I blown it?'
Next time, I made macaroni cheese. 'This is lovely', he said, 'but it would have been even better with bacon in it.'
'I thought you said you wanted to be vegetarian! What about that chicken last week?'
He looked at me as I were bonkers. 'Oh, I want to EAT meat; I just don't want to DEAL with it.'
I grew up in a household which raised animals for food, so I'm not squeamish about meat.
Funny story, Rebecca. A lot of people feel just the same as your husband. They love a good broiled lamb chop, but would not want to witness the slaughter of the little baby creature....
Yup. My school friends all thought it was terrible that our bottle-fed lambs would end up in the pot - yet would still enjoy their Sunday roast. Hey ho.
Canadian goose on our table in the fall. Dad the surgeon did the cut up routine. Better than turkey and plenty leftovers along with goose wing feathers for our hats. Yes grandmas and grandpa s are remembered and loved passing their table manners down the line.
Aww, a fine little memory, Richard. Thank you.
My mom used to tell me that’s how they killed chickens on the farm where she grew up in Puerto Rico. I always thought she was kidding.
Not kidding. I remember grandma running to catch a fat hen and taking her to the chopping block with an axe. I watched and was revolted. And I will never forget the smell of boiling water on feathers. Ick! But when you are a kid and you are hungry, you ask no questions.
"Pipe down"! I haven't heard that one for a while...
As I was writing this, I could hear my grandmother's old idioms running through my head. She used to say, "And then the shit really hit the fan!" You remember that one? And "Don't that beat all!"
Makes you wonder, has shit ever, in the history of mankind, ever hit a fan? And what were the circumstances of that occurrence?
Oh, good, John, now I have to have THAT image in my head all day.... eeuw!
Rich catalogue of sayings, that generation
Ha! Take that, Goose! - "he was running straight at her like some kind of Anserine missile." I've fended off such an attack, and on both occasions I missed my attempt at grasping him by the neck. Not running away, and well placed kicks, helps to stop the charge. I bet Easter dinner tasted good.
I thought my ...um... older readers would have similar memories! And younger one's might find these stories of interest, too, as ancient history.
Feisty old broad. WOW! Then again, you had to be back then and back in those mountain communities. it was like the Ozarks. I can also relate to her goose adventure. While volunteering at the American Wildlife Rescue Service in Scotts Valley years ago, I had a similar relationship with a huge white goose. I would pick him up by his crooked neck and fling him across the yard, then run out of that pen before he could get back to me. Never tried to kill him, though. He wasn't my bird to kill. And that pesky little banty-rooster was a pain in the ... ankles too. I'd drop a bucket over him to keep him out of my way while I filled food and water bowls for the rest of the flock. Them's were the days, Sharron. Thank for this memory.
Fine stories! Thanks, Sue. I would like to read some more of these memories in Ring Around the Basin!
I'll see what I can do. Reading substack posts really inspires lots of memories and stories for me. It's hard to keep up with it all. Thank you.
Another goodie! Would love to see this character in future stories :) 🎉🪿🍗
Here is one short one about Ms. Hudson, for when you have time, Bryan. You will like it.
https://sharronbassano.substack.com/p/porter-gulch-1949?
Great tale, Sharron! My mom lives with us and is a farm gal. From her stories, I can understand why things sometimes go next level!! (when poultry goes rogue)
No time for foolishness on a farm. There is either dinner or no dinner. Thanks Ron.
Hi, I am reminded of the day - at least 70 years ago - when the lady next door killed a chicken to fix for dinner - chopped his head off. It was a common household chore for her, but I didn't eat chicken for quite a while.
I think that once you have seen it, it does become hard to get that gory image gone!
Gosh, you've reminded me of my childhood, Sharron! We kept geese - they were mean and vicious and would grab hold of the fattest bit of my calves above the top of my welly boot and not let go!
Great story! The geese were our guard dogs, and our Christmas dinner.
What a great description of geese - both guard dogs and dinner! Perfect. Happy you could empathize with old Ms Hudson.
Love this.
Ha ha ha! Yeah. Me too. She was a tough old gal. I didn't appreciate her when I was a kid and I am sorry for it. But I sure do now and wish I could sit down and talk with her.