The Starving Bulls**t Artist

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My Bird Story May 2, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — madamebitters @ 4:37 am

Hi, everyone!

As you all know, I’ve been waiting for my laptop computer for a few weeks with bated breath (if you are new to this blog, please refer to my last post, What’s the Deal, Madame Bitters, for a full explanation).

Well,  I’ve got some good news. It’s finally here !

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So to kick this thing off right (and as a reward to my faithful readers) I’ve decided to answer an often asked question from my readers: Why I fear/loathe birds.

I’m a big believer in giving the public what they want, within reason of course. So here it is; My Bird Story:

Long, long ago (about 20 years before I became Madame Bitters) my parents took me and a cousin of mine, Jake on a weekend trip to a farm. I think the farm belonged to a friend of my grandparents, but I don’t know. It’s really not important to the story– I guess I shouldn’t have brought it up.

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 Neither I or my cousin Jake had ever seen, much less visited a farm because we were children of suburbia. I was excited because there were cows and baby cows, more commonly known as calves, at the farm and I couldn’t wait to pet them. I’ve always liked cows, although now I prefer to eat them rather than pet them.

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When we arrived at the farm my cousin and I bolted from the car as soon as my father released the parking brake. There was a lot to explore and many cows to pet and Jake and I couldn’t wait a minute longer.

We ran through a patch of field and when we came upon some trees Jake hung back. He had to pee, he said and then he told me to go ahead and that he’d catch up with me. I agreed, as I had no desire to watch him relieve himself.

I had only walked for a few minutes through the trees when I came upon a small pond. I approached it, thinking there might be frogs or baby ducks to play with.

How wrong I was.

I had just reached the edge of the pond and was looking at the scum on it’s surface when I heard a honking sound followed by an evil hiss. I turned my head toward the sound. Less than 10 feet away was a huge goose and he was pissed  . He was honking, hissing, and flapping his wings, which I suppose was an attempt to seem bigger and more threating. He needn’t have bothered. To a seven year old girl who was small for her age, the goose was straight out of a nightmare.

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Well, after I saw that goose (who I know had to be at least 3 feet tall) I did what anyone would do. I ran like hell; as fast as my short little legs could carry me, which it turns out wasn’t very far. Who knew an angry goose could run so fast? It was a lesson I learned the hard way.

The goose knocked me down and it began snapping at my flailing arms and legs. A goose has a bill like a duck; it’s not sharp but it left terrible bruises where he “bit” me. It was honking and hissing and I was screaming and crying. I’m sure we were quite a site as we rolled around on the ground as I fought for my life.

The next thing I remember was waking up in a strange bed with my mother and some old lady, who actually owned the farm, sitting next to me.  Jake saw the goose attack me and he ran to the farmhouse to get help. When he, my mom and dad and the old lady (who had the good sense to grab a shotgun before leaving) found me they said I was bleeding and lying unconcious in fetal position while the goose continued it’s attack. The goose only stopped when the old lady fired the shotgun in the air to scare him off.

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I stayed inside the farmhouse and didn’t venture outside again until it was time to leave. Even then my dad had to carry me out to the car.

During my stay at the farm and in the years since, I’ve found out a few things about the goose. It’s name was Eddie and he was legendary for his bad disposition.

He was old. My mother told me how Eddie had attacked my uncle 25 years before. She knew it was Eddie because he was missing a little of his bill, probably from fighting off a coyote. Eddie was big enough and mean enough to fight off a coyote and win, of that I have no doubt. She thought Eddie was long dead or else she wouldn’t have let me run off unarmed.

People had tried to kill him over the years, but for whatever reason they never could. To me Eddie is a lot like a mean, bitter old man. They say the good die young, but assholes live forever. That’s definately the case with Eddie.

I don’t think he’s still alive. Although geese can live for decades in a safe environment, he’d have to be at least 50 years old by now. I think he’s down in hell, guarding Satan’s duck pond and fighting with that 5-headed dog that guards the gates of hell.

Poor doggy.

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12 Responses to “My Bird Story”

  1. alantru Says:

    Wow. I’ve never said this before but… that goose was a total dick.

    Which then made me wonder “What does a rooster call his cock?”

    It’s probably very good to write about this memory, putting Eddie in hell probably felt nice. I hope you don’t mind me saying this but I thought it was a great story. It had everything: You, an old lady with a gun, a malevolent Goose named Eddie, and the classic reference to Satan’s duck pond.

    • I hope the story was worth the wait. Actually, ‘story’ is a poor choice of words because then it sounds like it never happened and I made it all up. Which I didn’t.

      It’s all terribly, horribly true.

      I’ve had a distrust of birds and guys named Eddie ever since.

  2. This is a much worse story than mine – I can understand why you’re afraid.

    Mine is only that a goose, at a petting farm, jumped up and with both feet, kicked my three y.o. daughter in the chest knocking her flat. She didn’t walk the rest of the day either.

    • Why are geese such pricks, Pam?

      Why do they target the most vulnerable and helpless members (i mean children, not the elderly) of society? They need to be stopped, Pam. Stopped, I say!

      Your poor little girl! She was probably excited to go to the petting zoo and then that happened. Did the goose leave a bruise? I hope not.

      Since she was only 3 at the time, she may not remember it ever happened. I hope that’s the case. She shouldn’t be afraid when you pull out the Mother Goose Book of Nursery Rhymes.

      Anyway, Pam, thank you so much for dropping by and sharing you and your daughter’s trauma. Go ahead and check out some of my other posts if you like. They’re much more cheerful. Hope to see you again soon.

      • Well, at the risk of outing myself, this happened a long time ago. She’s 21 now. She doesn’t remember, but, like you, she doesn’t like birds. She just doesn’t remember why and I keep forgetting to tell her. 😉

        Hitchcock’s The Birds scared me way before this happened. It’s bird fear brilliant.

  3. jesusbudda Says:

    The exact same incident with a goose happened to me, MB.

    I was probably around 6 and visiting a family friends farm – I was told that we were related but this was not true, which turned out to be a bit shitty considering in later years when I would occasionally visit and the daughter of the family tried to ‘seduce’
    me but I declined as I thought it was seriously fucked up.


    The goose chased me around the yard for 10 minutes and tried to peck me to death. He was joined by a hen and some other bird too.
    I was also viciously attacked by a parrot in a pet store.
    And a goat headbutted me in a petting zoo.

    I won’t comment on the times the cows tried to kill me.

    In short, I share your pain.
    They have a terrifying honk and a very large beak.
    They are unstoppable killing machines.

    • I never realized how many people had been traumatized by geese, or by birds in general. Why do they hate us?

      Perhaps I should start a support group for the victims of bird attacks.

      Actually, I can’t even organize a surprise party, but I can have others do the legwork. I’ll “supervise” to be sure everything meets my standards.

  4. Shawn Says:

    That’ll do it, I imagine. I had a similar incident a couple of weeks ago while walking my dog at the lake. We came upon a swan. The swan was sitting in the grass, minding its own business, when my dog decided it wanted to mind its business as well. The swan didn’t care for my dog getting close to it, so it reared up, spread its wings, and began hissing like a snake!

    Well, we then walked on without further incident.

    So, okay, it wasn’t really a similar incident at all, but it happened.

    • “Well, we then walked on without further incident.”

      –Count you and your dog as extremely fortunate, Shawn.

      Geese (and I’m including swans in this category too because they’re too much like geese for me to trust them) will take down you and everyone you love- including your dog.

      I wouldn’t trust a full grown goose around a rottwieler, much less a pommeranian. I’m not saying you own a pommeranian, I’m just making a point.

      Thanks for dropping by and sharing your goose/swan story, Shawn. Even if it was a bit anti-climactic, I appreciate your comment all the same.

      Don’t be a stranger!

  5. I am a biologist and I can attest that geese are rather ill-tempered. I’ve handled owls and hawks with no trouble, but they seem to know that they’re badass and don’t have to over-compensate. Good luck with the new computer.

  6. missfierce Says:

    You make an interesting point, fundamentaljelly.

    I think geese do overcompensate; sorta like chihuahuas. They’re tiny little dogs, but they’ll tear off a toe if you aren’t careful and wear sandals around them!

    Geese and Chiuhahuas are the Napoleons of the animal kingdom.

    I’d rather face down and angry junkyard dog than an angry goose. It sounds silly if you haven’t experienced a goose’s wrath.

  7. jesusbudda Says:

    “Geese and Chiuhahuas are the Napoleons of the animal kingdom.”

    – Emperors of France?
    Like buttons?

    Well, ya learn something every day, I suppose.

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