The Day I Stopped Chaufferuring My Geese or Attack of the Windshield Wipers - Throwback Thursday at Talking Dogs

My friend, Jodi, at Heart Like a Dog blog has been sharing some of her old past blog posts for Throwback Thursday and I love it so much!  In fact, it has inspired me to revisit some of my own old blog posts and share some of them with you.

Talking Dogs has been around a long time and some of my blog posts really have nothing to do with dogs.  Today I want to share with you one of my favorites and this one is about geese!

I wrote is for the Monday Mischief Pet Blog Hop and its one of my Farm Stories.  In it I tell the story of how my days of chauffeuring my geese to and from the pond ended.  It's silly and definitely a favorite memory of mine and why I am a Peeper Piper no more!


Without further ado, here's Chauffeuring Mr and Mrs Peeper, originally published on August 19, 2013

I'll give you the moral of this story right up front:  You can lead geese to water but you shouldn't put them inside your vehicle with the windshield wipers on.

And I'll leave it to you to decide who was making mischief in this farm story.  

I chose two White Chinese goslings at the hatchery before I knew that domestic geese could live well into their thirties.  

The dog daddy was not too thrilled at that news since he hated geese. When he was a little boy some geese chased him into an outbuilding at his grandma's house and wouldn't let him out. 
 

Mr and Mrs Peeper

While they were still young, they lived in our fenced yard in a wire enclosure that could be moved around for fresh greens.  This way I could keep a close eye on them, plus they and the dogs could get used to one another.

Mrs and Mr Peeper

Our yellow Lab mix,Sherman especially loved baby creatures and Mr and Mrs Peeper were no exception.

The Peepers and Sherman

Sherman having a chat with Mr and Mrs Peeper

Once grown, they moved into their own permanent digs.  They roamed at will during the day and were locked into their house at night for protection. 

Mr Peeper

We had a number of spring fed ponds on our 150 acre farm.  The closest was about 1/4 mile from the house.  The geese never ventured far from the house and barn, so I used to lead them to the pond for a swim.  I didn't herd them, I'd whistle and sing to them.  They'd follow me anywhere.

The peeper piper leading the peepers.

They definitely enjoyed it.  However, it was small, pretty muddy little pond, so I'd just sit on a rock and watch.  Sort of a zen time of relaxation.

Mr and Mrs Peeper (White Chinese) with Peabody and PeeWee (Grey Toulouse)

Swim over, I'd lead them back up to the house and barn yard.

Of all our ponds the one we referred to as "The Big Pond" was the best for swimming.  During the wicked heat and humidity of summer, that was where we all headed for some fun and to cool off.  I'd throw the inner tubes, floats, a cooler of water, and towels into the back of the old farm pickup.  In the dogs would hop.

I'd tried leading the geese to "The Big Pond" on foot.  However, it was too far away for a hike.  I was afraid if I put the geese in the bed of the pickup that they'd fly out.

So I decided to just throw the geese into the pickup cab with me.  Worked like a charm.  They seemed to enjoy the ride and they loved going to the pond with us for a swim.

My dogs, Benji and Sherman, alternated between relaxing on floats, drifting around the pond, and swimming after Mr and Mrs Peeper, chomp, chomp, chomping... thought they never seriously tried to snatch them.  The geese would shriek and sometimes turn around and chase them!  It was a like a game of tag.

There came a day when the dog daddy came home from work in time to join us as we prepared to head for the pond.   He thought it was hilarious that the geese road with me in the truck and had the bright idea to take some pictures.

He snapped a few photos, but pronounced the windshield too dirty for them to be any good.

"Turn the windshield washers on!"  he shouted.  

I did.

The Peeper chauffeur reeling in shock and trying to avoid goose wings.

All hell broke loose.  

The Peepers, sure it was an attack of some kind and their lives were in danger, began screaming honks, flapping wings and, in general, trying to escape the confines of the truck. 

Poor Peepers trying to escape the windshield wipers while their chauffeur laughs hysterically.

Our days of swimming at the pond were over.  

They refused to ever get in the pickup cab again.