After the Midnight Hour.

On Friday I was asleep when uproar broke out on my lawn. Stroppy the gander was announcing to all and sundry that we had intruders and that (as usual) he was convinced they were there to kidnap his precious gosling. His wives dutifully added to the chorus – which was probably alarming people half a mile away.
I woke up, recognized the yells for what they portended, and rose, galloped at my best racing-snail speed through the house, and through the door to stand listening behind the huge old concrete house-water-tank.
Stroppy was still sounding the alarm and staring down the road. I looked that way, in time to hear a door shut, see car-lights come on, and a car slip off quietly down the road. Hmmm, I think we had intruders, not, whatever that gander may think, those desiring to steal a noisy, messy, hysterical gosling, but more likely those planning on sneaking around farm sheds in case there was anything portable and of value.
Actually there isn’t – not unless they plan to spend an incredible amount of time and effort in stealing a small amount of firewood, and a few hay bales. And if they had vaulted the fence and joined my geese, firewood and hay weren’t all they’d have had. My gander is usually something of a coward, but not when he has gosling/s. Then he’s “as a raging lion, seeking whom he may devour.”
He leaves big, deep bruises instead of claw marks, and it’s just a pity that in this case, he doesn’t seem to have had the chance. Maybe next time…

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