Yesterday, I witnessed a gruesome murder.
My sweet baby, Miss Lucy, and I were down by the river when an ominous shadow bled into our path.
But it was the sound that caught my attention.
The shrill was deafening.
At first, I thought it was rough, kinky sex, so I stayed out of it.
After all, who am I to judge. It's the law of nature and I'm certainly no expert in fowl behavior.
As much as I tried NOT to watch, I glared at a gang of geese dive-bombing in and out of troubled waters. The lead warrior straddled his opponent, forcing him under the current and against a jetty of rocks that intermittently jut out from crests of frantic waves.
His unworthy adversary temporarily escapes but is quickly recaptured, this time in a bed of quick sinking marsh.
Looming above, the wild thug prods and plucks at his victim’s neck - repeatedly, until the only sound is the rush of a murky current.
Sadly, this goose is cooked.
What would cause one goose to kill another? There were no goslings waddling about - it’s way too soon in the season for that.
Knowing they mate for life makes it even more disturbing.
Is killing, if not a matter of survival, ever justified? In animals? In humans?
There is a lot to learn from the animal kingdom, but today…I’ve got nothing but unanswered questions.
Green Monkey Tales © 2010 Shannon E. Kennedy
My sincerest thanks to those of you who read and comment.