Bandit at Four O’clock

These past several days have not been easy, what with a combination of a sinus infection and the aches and pains from two days of weed eating and mowing on a lawn tractor as well as other outside spring needs. You see men invented lawn tractors, it must be so, and there are no shock absorbers. Therefore the brunt of that is distributed to the body of the driver. This past “sleeping” night I again found myself jockeying between several sleeping quarters, depending on my restlessness as well as several naps during the day so my body would refresh itself. I honestly think I feel like a human bean this day, about time, I do not do sick graciously. As quietly as possible George and I go downstairs to begin the “routine”. The coffee is perking; Falcour has been fed while George is now nestled in the Nook with me. The snow is piercing the greenness of the newly budding trees and the delicate and gentle remaining blossoms of the daffodils. I sit in total quiet absorbing what is around me when out of the corner of my eye I see one Feather fly far from the ground. The sky is cloudy and the only light is from the security lights that hamper a clear view as the shadows weave in and out. It appears that something has caused Mom Goose to suddenly take flight from her nest beside the front steps. I see the ominous dark, HUGE hulk of a raccoon. I quickly run to turn the porch light on and NEVER thinking that the varmint could still be on the porch I bound out to save Mom G barefooted and all. No raccoon on the porch, none in the trees and worst of all no Mom G. It is way to early to alert my spouse, besides once he got down the raccoon will be long gone. I resume my observation back in the Nook. Mom G has gone to rally the flock as in minutes I see and for sure hear them as they begin their investigations. One egg was pulled from the nest, hard to say if it is ok, knowing what raccoons do to eggs. I will have to wait for daylight to inspect it more closely. It appears all is ok for the moment. The other Mom G is sitting under the low pine bushes the flock is casting onward looks toward the creek and issuing their fierce warnings. In all the years we have raised geese they never cease to amaze me.