 | Back Beach is host to two expanding clans of feral geese, one based around the yacht club and the other more or less residing over in Roseneath, the peninsula on the other side of Sawyers Bay. They cohabit without commingling and have attracted a small contingent of black swans and their cygnets, who are less tame and annoyingly camera shy. This image was taken a couple of years before a large proportion of the mouth breathers who would set their pitbulls on them for kicks were priced out of Port (gentrification- not all bad), leaving the geese to go forth and multiply at will. They hiss like angry cobras and eat a lot of brown sea lettuce. The smell as you walk past their overpatronized wallow slash drinking pond on a hot, still day has to be seen to be believed, and I typed that on purpose because you can cut that stank with a knife. |
In the evening the adults will burst into a chorus of short matte honks and fly, low and heavy, toward Goat Island where they roost for the night, leaving a brace of overfed juveniles to call after them and set off in earnest single file, paddling at breakneck speed to catch up, since they're too fat to fly. The parents inevitably lose their resolve and float back toward their squawking children.
Reminding me why I'm not a parent.
Reminding me why I'm not a parent.
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