Good Morning Ornithologically Speaking,
Obviously, what’s happening in SE Texas and Houston in particular, overshadows any inconvenience suffered by yours truly, but damn it, I feel short-changed.
With another 26 inches of rain predicted we pray for our Houstonian brothers and sisters—but life continues for the rest of us and hope everyone had a great weekend.
I say that because it had the potential of being almost spiritual. All the elements of a classic fall afternoon were there. Crystal clear skies, mild temperature, with immediate cooling at dusk all signifying the changing seasons. In fact, the two or three of you reading this incogitant piffle was also out there winterizing your gardens and lawns enjoying something only we mountain folk take for granted; hiking, biking, camping, fishing, or otherwise engaged in a picture perfect weekend.
I too was able to get out and relish Mother Nature’s gift to the Rockies and play some golf. The pastoral setting juxtaposed against the mountains was breathtaking, to say the least! Hacking and slashing my way around ‘Raccoon Creek’ I was holding my own but scrambling on each hole.
I’ve been struggling with my game (at best bogey) ever since my 18th hole collapse at the company tournament. The unspoken disgrace has gotten into my head causing not only a loss of confidence but has physically made me ill. So Saturday’s effort was the long awaited elixir I needed.
With two holes left, I had a two (2) stroke lead and had found my lost confidence feeling certain I’d finish my 9-hole play in the low forties removing all doubt. On number eight (8) a par three with a lake only 10 yards from the right edge of the green, I hit a solid seven (7) iron that began to drift to the right. Taking two bounces the sloping green kicked the ball further right and off the green. It wasn’t clear as to the ball’s fate and would either have a shot or take a penalty. I walked to where I last saw the ball and was relieved to see it perched up nicely in the rough just three (3) feet from the water.
For those of you unfamiliar with ‘Raccoon Creek’ it is now home to thousands of Canadian Geese. These bloated feathered dinners are everywhere! These days most don’t even bother migrating to warmer climes; rather they busy themselves with dropping Goose ca-ca on every square inch. My ball was prevented from going in the water by landing in a freshly squeezed pile of Goose turds.
I looked at my spikes and they were fully caked with ‘goosander’ and took a half-minute to scrape most of it off cursing the game birds. I moved the ball out of the slippery dung with my wedge thinking the rules committee would understand this illegal action and forgive my ‘improving the lie.’ However, when I struck the ball in earnest it slid off the face of my club given the evil residue causing the ball to land in a greenside bunker! “DAMN IT TO HELL!!!” I cried getting out of the bunker on my third try. Three putts later I posted an eight (8) on a par three (3). F—ing Geese!!
I don’t care what PETA says or what city ordinance needs to be drafted or amended, but a thinning of the flock needs to happen. While there are occasional foxes or coyotes seen but obviously the Geese have no natural predators to keep populations in check.
Each generation remains completely content to forego migration. They breed, hatch, and watch over the brood for a staggering four (4) years. More and more of them reach breeding age and a cruel tragedy is coming sooner or later in the form of disease.
In a strongly worded letter I’ve suggested to the Board of Regents and ‘Littlewood’ City Council that we declare one day late October; “Thin the Flock” day! Hunters draw for permits awarding eighteen (18) lucky winners the right to bag at most 25 birds. However, they must occupy only their assigned hole. The birds could be dressed out for meat and donated, BBQ’d, or otherwise enjoyed at the dinner table.
Ironically the Canadian goose was nearly extinct during the early 1900’s and has more than recovered. These filthy fowls need to be thinned by at least 25% or at the very least forced to migrate! If our local leadership won’t do it….I will! I’ve added an extra club to my bag; it has a silencer!….. F—-ing Geese!