Father goose guarding Vinnie’s dock.
If your house caught fire a couple of hundred years ago, you would probably lose it, unless you had a good water supply and a large family or a lot of friendly neighbors to form a “bucket brigade,” passing buckets of water from one person to the next in order to get enough water on the fire to put it out.
As towns grew larger and turned into cities, volunteer fire brigades were formed. These were people who worked at regular jobs but also volunteered to fight local fires when necessary. They had equipment such as long ladders, wagon mounted, hand operated pumps and leather hoses to move water more efficiently and also had rudimentary training on the best ways to extinguish a fire. As a matter of historical interest, the first volunteer fire brigade in Philadelphia was formed by Benjamin Franklin.
The little village next to where I grew up had a stream running right through the middle of it. About 150 years ago, the fire brigade dammed it up to form a pond so they would have a good water supply. After much bickering and political arguments over what to name it, they finally settled on “Fireman’s Pond.”
Soon after the pond was formed, the geese moved in. Some were local “wild” geese, some just escapees from area farms and a few migratory geese that just stopped over and decided to stay. Generations later they acted as if they owned the pond, (which they actually did) and it was a treat for all the kids in the area to go feed stale bread to the geese. I remember doing it as a kid, as does my father, and I took my kids over there when they were growing up.
There was always an “alpha” goose who would be in front of all the rest, grabbing the choice morsels before any of the others could get them.
Now we had an old lady named Willie Mae who had worked for our family forever. I always remember her birthday because it was December 24, 1900. She was my mother’s nursemaid when she was a tiny baby as she was mine and all my brothers. As adults, we took care of her as one of the family.
I remember one Saturday morning after I had gotten out of the Navy and was home from college, she called me up and said “Vinnie, I needs a goose.”
She had always had a goose as a watchdog at her house, mostly because it was a lot less trouble than a real dog. She woke up that morning to find that after 15 years, the goose had died, and now she needed a replacement.
I told her “No problem” and headed over to Fireman’s Pond to get her a goose! I tossed some bread to the geese and sure enough, the alpha goose came right up to me and demanded his share. You can imagine his surprise when I threw my jacket over him and tossed him in the back of my Volkswagen! On the short drive over to Willie Mae’s house, he “decorated” the entire back seat and floor. When we got there, I put him into the goose run with some food and water and he settled down, so I went home to spend the rest of the day cleaning out the car. (UGH).
The next morning around 11 I got a distress phone call from Willie Mae to get over there right away. It seems that the goose had escaped from the goose run and wouldn’t let her into her yard!
Now on Sundays after church, Willie Mae and her “Gal Friends” would get together at one of their houses and play pinochle. This Sunday was Willie Mae’s turn. They always pulled the venetian blinds all the way down and shut the wooden slats, and maybe enjoyed a sip or two of sherry, but that was nobody’s business but their own.
Well, this Sunday, the goose had other ideas. Nobody was going to enter his yard and that was final!
When I arrived, you can imagine these four “plus sized” ladies, dressed in their Sunday finery, complete with straw hats and lace veils, white gloves, long dresses, stocking seams perfectly straight, right down to their highly polished lace up “sensible shoes” with wide low heels. They were standing around on the sidewalk, glaring at the goose who was returning their glares just as intently.
I reluctantly took off my jacket and went into the yard to do battle with the goose, but he was not in the mood. He led me on a merry chase all around the yard until I finally cornered him under the front porch. By this time some of the neighbors had gathered around to enjoy the fun.
I crawled out from under the porch with him wrapped in my freshly laundered jacket and tossed him back into my Volkswagen. Recognizing where he was, he decorated it again! I took him back to Fireman’s Pond and happily turned him loose. He immediately went back to his buddies to brag about his great adventure while I went home to clean out my car for the second day in a row.
Next morning I went out to a local farm and bought a two-month-old gosling which immediately bonded with Willie Mae and guarded her yard for the next 15 years.
Note: This is what reminded me of this story: The goose family set up housekeeping at the head of my dock ramp. Somehow, they must have sensed that I was not a threat and just looked at me as I went back and forth, but Father Goose attacked my neighbor when he tried to get to his boat, and he hasn’t gone boating since.
Photo: courtesy Vinnie Mendes
