when i drove into the driveway from running errands yesterday, i wasn't really surprised to find a wild goose in the backyard. these things just seem to happen to us, i guess. it was on john's back patio by the slough james said. john thought it was one of our ducks. and when i kneeled down to it, it came right into my arms. the goose was nonchalant in our backyard. it was sleek, the color of wet gravel, long-necked and gracefully slow in its movements. i observed: much bigger than pato and gonzo, more defined features, with a pointy razor-edged beak for gnawing on grass or what-have-you. strong, the bird was yanking the shit out of weeds. pato and gonzo, flustered by the goose's presence, made some fruitless attempts at defending their territory, valiant running beak jabs over the goose's back, but that goose remained cool and calm, gently cooing around the yard. we hopped to a bird identification book to confirm that the bird was an immature snow goose. right part of the world, but wrong season. the bird was obviously confused. we hung around for a while, reveling in how tame it was, speculating, watching it eat and drink and mingle about, seemingly enjoying our company.