Saturday morning we were greeted by six new little puffballs. Cheney is a proud papa, and he and the Mrs. spent all day corralling their new brood.
Okay, so maybe it was worth a month of being attacked. Even Stan can’t help oohing and awing over how cute they are. Despite my cajoling to be godmother, Cheney still gave me half-hearted hisses and wing-flapping, for old time’s sake.
By Sunday morning, the nest was completely abandoned. Now Mark and I and anyone who comes to see us can come and go as we please, without an umbrella or weapon, without hitting the deck when the goose swoops down on us, without any worry at all.
I kinda miss the old bastard.
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