What's good for the gander ....

gan·der n
1. an adult male goose
2. an offensive term used about or to somebody who is thought to be unserious and frivolous
3. a look or glance at somebody or something (informal)

Interesting definitions. Surprising to me that the word “gander” in addition to the commonly known “male goose” can be an offensive term. “Unserious.” “Frivolous.” Hmmm? I know I’ve locked onto these terms in the past when I’ve considered Richard’s love of poultry from a detached and judgmental position. Well, most of that has gone to the birds, especially of late. The latest development? During my trip back north from a week stay in New York, Richard informed me that he’d found a gander for sale for $45 just across the Rhode Island line in Massachusetts which just happened to be – miracle of miracles! – to be on my route home since I had just been visiting a friend south of Providence. Richard asked me if I would be so kind to stop by, buy him, box him up, and bring him home. Now I may have given an informal look or glance at this idea, but quickly tabled it for the greater cause of health care reform at our household and said a resounding YES to the Public Option of more poultry at our home. After all, Richard does have a legitimate business interest in this. He wants to get as many Pilgrim goose eggs laid as possible and ship them off to interested buyers around the country. And since we have 2 geese of laying age AND since each one of them could produce 30-40 eggs each in the goose laying period from late February through April AND since many major hatcheries have discontinued Pilgrim geese this year, this could be a profitable enterprise. And we could get a few more goslings ourselves. Not a bad proposition; they’re adorable.

So I drove my Subaru Outback Massachusetts way and visited the Berman’s who very kindly gave me a tour of their compound, a glorious and warm menagerie of goats and chickens and geese and dogs and cats. Lovely, lovely. It took me a little while to choose from the male geese, Schmul being the pappy of the other 3 and the larger, obviously. He was dominant and squawky, but I was able to pick him up a couple times and coo in his ear, ducking swipes he made at my nose. And oh what a fine and proud fellow he was. And a protective and fine father I was assured. After about 45 minutes of back and forth, my decision was made, and a box was made up for Schmul with hay and holes a plenty. The packing process went with ease and the box was put into the back for the 3 plus hour drive. Along the way, I would coo to him, give assurances and love. He did well. He even gave a nice hearty and brassy honk at the gas station I stopped at along the way, a fine trumpet to the air.

We arrived home before nightfall, and Richard came out of our house, all smiles, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. We carried the box up to the pen to introduce Schmul to the girls. It was cold, about 14 degrees or less. Chilly. But they warmed pretty quickly to one another, the girls a little stand-offish and proper at first and then Ginger started flirting with a little nibble on Schmul’s tail feathers. Since then Ginger has gone to following him everywhere, granted “everywhere” is a fairly small area, but still it’s pretty sweet. Love is in the air.

I’m sorry this installment is brief, but there are pictures. I’m also writing this from afar, Richard and I are in Tempe through the 27th and our dear neighbor Royce is taking care of our flock in our absence. As always when I’m away, Vermont is in my heart. I'm so glad and grateful that we live there, so grateful for all our friends, and grateful for all the ganders in our life, especially the frivolous and unserious ones that turn into hidden riches, their own version of the goose that lay the golden egg.

Happy Holidays!!

We’re also in the midst of a renaming quandary. I love Schuml, but Richard wants to carry on the “Gilligan’s Island” theme. We may have to go with Professor Schmul. Not bad.