The weather was really nice yesterday. It was a shame I was so under it with a spring cold.
After cashing in bottles I returned to South Granville and occupied a bench in the park in front of the Vancouver School Board (VSB) building just off the southwest side of South Granville Street and West Broadway.
The park is such a peaceful place. You’d never know the VSB building was full of socialists and anarchists bent on creating school curriculum to poison the minds of impressionable children.
But speaking of disagreeable characters in the park, there were the Canada geese—they’re back. Two of them, in particular, spend a lot of time in the park…or across the street from the park in a thin grassy area…or right on the roadway.
Two of our national birds too close for comfort
While I relaxed for an hour on a bench, the two fat fat national symbols were never more than a few feet away, lazily cropping the grass. I could see they were messy eaters. Though they gave the appearance of being choosy, they were remarkably indiscriminate about what went into their mouth—half a dandelion head, a clump of grass, a white thing.
They remind me of something supposedly said about our most popular, longest serving prime minister, William Lyon Mackenzie King, by one of his colleagues: that he looked better the farther away he got from you.
That’s how I feel about Canada geese. I like them best in the fall when they fly south in their V-formations, honking their farewells for the winter.
I ended up giving the geese—and a lot of pigeons—something besides grass to eat and then I repaired to McDonalds, where at least most of the patrons eat with their mouths closed.
The Green guy caught up with me while I was locking up my bike outside the restaurant.
He told he’d seen me talking to the geese in the park. He looked at me almost expectantly.
Yes, I told him, I had both contemplated the proper oven setting for a goose and how one of them would react to a Taser—he looked a bit stricken. Finally, I explained, I had just fed them Cheerios.
“Good answer,” he said, looking relieved.
“You know they’re monogama…monoga…they mate for life?”
He was sure they were the same two Canada geese that had returned to the VSB park every spring for at least three years.
And what’s more, he had named them Lucy and Diamond—I interrupted him when he tried to explain what song those names were from.
And did I know there was a crow in the area with one white feather?
He was sure it was always the same crow. He called it Sheryl.
We could definitely use more of his kind of crazy on the street.