Geese = Gross

Do you remember how much I loved those cute little goslings? Aw, but they were sweet! They peeped a lot (and pooped a lot), were so fuzzy-soft, and loved to nibble clover and grass we picked for them.

I was worried that I'd keep liking them so much and be sad to see them go.

I should NOT have worried.

My sweet goslings underwent the most disappointing of metamorphoses, truly. It DID take them quite a while, but all sweetness left the premises. Their voices changed to a deep, growly honk. They became quite big enough to not be hawk-bait, so we let them loose, where they daily mowed the lawn.

And nightly ruined the porch. es.

I cannot tell you why, nor how, but we have 3 exits to our home, not counting the garage. Each night, the geese would choose one exit and sleep there. RIGHT on our front welcome mat (as opposed to all the porch-space that is NOT where we step out of the house), RIGHT outside the sliding glass door, or RIGHT on the back step. And I suppose it wouldn't have been too bad if they would actually only SLEEP there. But while they eat copious amounts in the day, they, um, get rid of it in the night. All. Over. My. Porches. SO disgusting. Were I not quite pregnant at the time, I'd have lopped off their heads with a machete. Instead, we were finally able to herd them into a little chicken tractor, where I locked them in without a care if they ate or drank. Hubby, occasionally, did care, so they yet live.

A week or two ago I decided to give them another chance. And since it's nigh time to butcher them I didn't want them living their last days in a yucky pen (for the sake of my dinner, not their bliss). The first night or two was fine, but soon they remembered the joy of their transgressions, and soiled all three sites again. And bit Organique on the leg, leaving a nasty abrasion dripping blood down her leg. So now they get to spend their time within the confines of their yucky pen again. Yes, it could be moved, but not by me (yet), and Hubby hasn't been so inclined, I guess.

So. Do we eat them? Do we get them to fresh grass for a time? Do we just do them in for the sheer joy of being done with them? I don't think we'll be raising them again. Turkeys are so much more pleasant, plus I know they taste good.