I’ve been trying something new lately and it’s really put a new spin on how I go through my days. Instead of waking up ten minutes before work and wiping myself down with a damp paper towel, I’ve been waking up really early and going for walks all over town. You’d be amazed at how quiet this place is without people in it. I haven’t felt this peaceful in years.
I went over to Fairmount Park the other day at around 4am and even the geese were still asleep when I got there. I couldn’t believe my luck. It’s been a dream of mine for years to see how far I could throw a goose and this was the perfect opportunity. I’ve definitely learned that you’ve got to strike fast when dealing with sleeping animals because the element of surprise is your biggest weapon. That old wives’ tale about letting sleeping dogs lie only applies if you don’t have a plan for after you wake up the dog. With geese, it’s the same story. You wake up a goose just for the fun of it, you’ll get pecked like no tomorrow. Their beaks are painful, man. You don’t want to find out first hand.
When I saw those geese getting some shuteye, I knew exactly what to do. I picked out one that looked like it might be lighter than some of the other ones. [Side note: Can we stop feeding the geese so many friggin breadcrumbs? They’re plenty fat as it is.] I decided to name it “Tosserton,” because it seemed appropriate at the time and I find that I can throw things farther if they have a name. When I was sure that Tosserton was definitely asleep and not faking it, I picked out my landing zone and went in for the throw.
Goose tossing is a hard art to master and with no means to practice, I had to rely on what it looked like in my dreams. So I got a running start, went full steam ahead, picked up Tosserton and threw him (her?) hammer-toss style as far as I could, spinning my body to get maximum torque. I was pretty freaked out about how flexible her (his?) neck was, but it ended up helping me get more distance than I would have otherwise. I’d say I got a good forty feet, which is shorter than I predicted, but still a pretty admirable toss in my opinion.
You should have heard Tosserton honking in the air. He (she?) righted herself (himself?) right before hitting the ground and ended up just gliding to safety, so I didn’t have to feel bad about hurting Tosserton. After the goose landing, I was overcome with an enormous sense of completion. It was one of the greatest experiences of my life.
I will say this: I don’t recommend goose-tossing to anyone unless you’ve had a steady series of dreams over the last twenty years about it. If you don’t have the instincts bred into you subconsciously, then you won’t be ready to do it. Leave the goose-tossing to the professionals, people. Don’t try it at home.