later that afternoon, the goose took off again, in slow motion, flapping those massive wings awkwardly like it was the first time, whoosh whoosh whoosh, filling up space, barely getting over the fence and the flitting white banners i'd hung, like an amateur pole-vaulter, off towards the slough. i figured it knew where it was going, it was "nature" after all, so i shrugged my shoulders in an "oh well" and went back to my business inside. i figured it knew where it was going, but apparently i was wrong.
the goose landed about twenty feet away in the gravel alley between the longhorn bar and the gallery. there, it was met by an unsuspecting day-tripper, a slick seattle hipster dad with infant in tote. the goose, confused, seemingly tame or at least young enough to not know better, approached the dad. the dad, who hadn't had such a close encounter before, was amazed and awestruck. a friendly goose! he brought his baby closer, look at the friendly goose he said to his baby, and they walked closer still. and then....the goose got startled. maybe the whap-whap-whap! of a motorcycle's tailpipe, maybe the squeal of the baby, but something made the goose take flight. and awkward as it was, it flew straight into that dad holding his baby. a collision. the dad panicked, fell, dropped his baby in the gravel. all this, in front of his wife, in front of his mother-in-law. baby screamed, mostly uninjured except for some scrapes on its face. dad was humiliated, angrier than the dickens. he was out for blood. that goose attacked me he yelled, that goose needs to die! pointing at the goose behind james in the street. the goose, unaware of what he'd just done, approached the man. thinking the goose was about to go in for another cheap shot, the man ran away. and then next thing we heard, he was stomping around town in a red-faced head-hunt fury, stick in hand, looking for a grey goose to kill.
james picked the goose up, put it back in our yard, and we all tried to lay low for a bit.