To be a Decoy Goose

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Abstract

l your physical needs are met, you’re isolated, and what’s worse, you’re not completely isolated.You can see others flying overhead. You can beckon them with a squawk, “Come on down, the water’s fine”.Maybe for a brief moment you can engage in small talk:“So are you local, or on a migratory pattern”or maybe skip ahead and ask bold questions, get into the existential fears that dread the minds of geese, trying to find solace in the shared terrors lurking beneath consciousness…Or maybe just tell a joke. Yeah, a joke would probably be better.“Did you hear the one about the hunter who, rather than killing geese, fed and took care of them?”BANGAnd another buddy meets buckshot.And again, alone, the goose is left to face solitary.I can’t help feeling bad for these decoy geese, but I wonder if they would feel bad for themselves. Did the

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y understand what was happening around them?A twisted part of me hopes, for their psyche, they’d feel lucky and grateful. Yeah, a situation can suck, but developing a sense of dread or pessimism doesn’t do anyone any good.I hope that the goose had a lesser understanding of its situation. That perhaps, he feels bad about his crippled state, but he knows he’s a survivor. That perhaps, if some deity above has kept him alive this long while everyone around him seems to die, there’s some larger purpose. He will have an impact on this world.And while his impact may be keeping a hunter well-fed by luring others to death, I hope that the goose has greater aspirations.So as we sit, as decoy geese, knowing that if we beckon others to congress with us, we risk bringing them death. While the situation seems dark, while we may seem alone, I have to hope the goose can see a brighter tomorrow: because if a silly goose can, then I sure as hell can too.</article></body>

Dread, a Chuckle, and Hope

In John Green’s essay “Canada Geese”, he talks about the, now illegal, practice of live decoys where geese were rendered flightless and doted on in lakes in order to attract flocks of other geese, only for those to be hunted.

It brought to mind a strange perspective as my mind entered a feathered body.

I don’t know how dependent geese are on social interaction, but if I am assuming the perspective of a goose, I am going to freaking anthropomorphize it.

But just imagine. Crippled, but doted on by something/someone alien to you. While all your physical needs are met, you’re isolated, and what’s worse, you’re not completely isolated.

You can see others flying overhead. You can beckon them with a squawk, “Come on down, the water’s fine”.

Maybe for a brief moment you can engage in small talk:

“So are you local, or on a migratory pattern”

or maybe skip ahead and ask bold questions, get into the existential fears that dread the minds of geese, trying to find solace in the shared terrors lurking beneath consciousness…

Or maybe just tell a joke. Yeah, a joke would probably be better.

“Did you hear the one about the hunter who, rather than killing geese, fed and took care of them?”

BANG

And another buddy meets buckshot.

And again, alone, the goose is left to face solitary.

I can’t help feeling bad for these decoy geese, but I wonder if they would feel bad for themselves. Did they understand what was happening around them?

A twisted part of me hopes, for their psyche, they’d feel lucky and grateful. Yeah, a situation can suck, but developing a sense of dread or pessimism doesn’t do anyone any good.

I hope that the goose had a lesser understanding of its situation. That perhaps, he feels bad about his crippled state, but he knows he’s a survivor. That perhaps, if some deity above has kept him alive this long while everyone around him seems to die, there’s some larger purpose. He will have an impact on this world.

And while his impact may be keeping a hunter well-fed by luring others to death, I hope that the goose has greater aspirations.

So as we sit, as decoy geese, knowing that if we beckon others to congress with us, we risk bringing them death. While the situation seems dark, while we may seem alone, I have to hope the goose can see a brighter tomorrow: because if a silly goose can, then I sure as hell can too.