Memorial Day weekend activities

This post really belongs ahead of the last post if one is going to be a stickler about chronology, but I needed to write the depression post first to get some of that out of my system so that I could write this one. I didn't feel like going through the metaphorical hoops to rearrange them. I trust that both of my readers can deal with it.

About a week ago, I stopped at my mother's house to fetch my canoe, which had been in her yard for some years, unused. Jenn and I had decided to use it for the Mayor's Hike, Bike, and Paddle event this Memorial Day weekend, in order to take a break from participating in the bike ride after several years of that event. As I drove home with it on my truck, I encountered my stepdaughter as she left the neighborhood on her way to a friend's house. She and I talked for a moment, and she expressed interest in participating in the paddling event.

I have a kayak in addition to my canoe, so we figured that she could use it while Jenn and I used the larger boat. It was decided that spending some time on Long Run Park lake the day before would be a good idea, as it would give Rachel a chance to learn the basics of operating the kayak before having to deal with doing so on the river around other folks (safety being a big thing for me...).

So, Sunday afternoon, the three of us drove to Long Run Park to spend some time on the water. Rachel opted to jump in the water a couple of times, mostly for fun, and I figured it would be good for her to learn how to reenter the boat from the water in case she ever needed that for self-rescue. Jenn and I enjoyed watching her have fun with this exercise, but opted out of doing so ourselves. As we loaded the boats to go home, a fellow approached us, asking whether we had scissors or a knife, as the goose he was carrying had what appeared to be some fishing line wrapped tightly around its leg. The goose's foot was swollen due to the poor circulation, and had to be in some discomfort. However, it was surprisingly docile for being held still by a person. After some deliberation, attempts at explaining where the nearest twenty-four-hour veterinary clinic was, and seeing what tools were available on site, Jenn decided that the best thing for the goose was for us to take it (I'm not good at determining the gender of a goose. I assume geese can tell...) ourselves.

We spread a tarp over Jenn's lap to contain goose poop and help keep the goose from getting too active in the cab of my truck, and off we went. Again, the goose was amazingly calm about things, never making any noise and not really fighting Jenn's efforts to keep it from biting either of us. The Veterinarian was quite nice about things as well, and came out to the truck rather than having us come inside with the bird. One or two snips of the scissors and the fishing line was gone, and we drove back to Long Run Park so that the bird would be returned to familiar territory.

When we got the goose out of the truck at the park, it waddled away as if it had no foot pain, then jumped in the lake and swam around to get a drink and go on with its life. The family who had brought our attention to the bird's plight was glad to see us and the goose return, and thanked us for our kindness. We thanked them for their good deed of helping the bird get help.

It was a goose of who-knows what mix of varieties--it wasn't a Canada Goose, for example. But it certainly didn't deserve to lose a foot to some lazy person who didn't remove fishing lines after snagging a lure on a pond that contains fish that should not be eaten. I'm glad we were able to help, even if it meant that the tarp needed a good scrubbing afterward.