I remember the days when Canada Geese were not yet a plague on the land, when that mellow honking meant a welcome change of seasons and we’d run outside to watch the great V’s pass overhead. The experience has been cheapened by the introduction of big Canadas across most of the continent, but childhood memories die hard, and I’m still moved even when I know I’m hearing the resident pests of lawns and parks.

Others are moved, too, though sometimes in different directions.

This fellow is said to have set out Sunday morning to take matters into his own hands. The goose is a treacherous adversary, so he armed himself well: two crossbows, three knives, and “several sleeves of crackers.”

Take that, “scourge of the bluegrass”!