Poem Hunter
(04 October 1943 / Germany)


A handsome, male, Canadian Goose
had, since that morning, rather loose
and frequent bouts of very runny......
you know, and no, it wasn't funny
now let me tell to you the reason.

December is the Christmas Season,
and geese are often on the menu
thus no surprise that at this venue
at a small town named Chilliwack
the hunters went on the attack.

Now Mr. Goose was known as gander
and he was prone to just meander
through all the gardens and the woods
to look for culinary goods.

He had, needless to say, decreed
that she should wait to get her feed
and since the gander's high IQ
would always tell him what to do
they would be safe to New Year's Day
when hunting closed out on the Bay.

It now so happened that the base
of Mrs. Goose's hiding blace
was at the bottom of the Mill
where she could sit no longer still.
She scrambled up the steep incline
and crossed a well known danger line.
A man, well armed was walking near
and caused the goose a bit of fear.
She ran to gain her take-off speed
slowed down by snow and frozen weed
and as it started now to hail
the hunter was right on her tail.

Now female geese don't have the wits
of ganders, but they get the shits
whenever danger shows its head
the question is, be loose or dead.

So, was it instinct or an urge
of Nature when a sudden purge
of quite substantial gooseshitgreen
came flying out onto the scene?

Pursuit is often quite successful
but also can be rather stressful.
Precisely at the moment when
the goose decided, once again
that she was doomed this day, would lose
this battle and her gander goose,
there was an empty sound at last,
she recognised it from the past
there would be only gaseous bluff
she hadn't eaten quite enough.

But, with a bang that could be heard
by each and every Northern bird
a chocolate well filled with nuts
exploded from her inner guts.

The night before, her gander man
had hatched an urgent, special plan
he sat, in silence, and subdued
to get his lady in the mood.

And from his soft, Canadian wing
he did retrieve a gift-wrapped thing.
It was a chocolate bar from Lindt,
the foil was taken by the wind.

She swallowed it, without a thought
(and happiness had just been bought) .
But since she didn't chew the nuts
they went intact, right to her guts.

Nut pellets hit the man who lusted
to get his goose, his glasses busted,
he fell without a further sound
into the green sauce on the ground.

By now, the goose had gathered knots
and since she was no clumsy klutz
she lifted in the winter air
just missing a tall Polarbear.

She honked to let the gander know
and soon he could be seen in tow.
They left the region, flew to Rome
and made themselves a Latin home.

The man who had been knocked out cold
had turned and on the slick ice rolled
down the incline just when the bear
was looking for his season's share.
So you can see that when a gander
gets up to go and just meander
it's best to keep each female feather
out of the fickle winter weather.

User Rating: 1,6 / 5 ( 4 votes ) 6

Comments (6)

Another great adventure! Very funny too! We grew up on the lakes and boy was the goosepoop a problem. Very entertaining tale Herbert. Sincerely, Mary
brilliant write, and I'll never look at the canadian geese that fly over my house quite the same way again. -Eila
This is proof positive that rhyme can be great poetry. Herbert, you are THE MAN. Rusty
Look, Herbert, some of us are trying to eat our lunch! ! ! Ha ha ha! ! ! 'Gooseshitgreens': hee hee hee! Warmly, G. (I really am in the middle of lunch, though. Home-made muesli) : -)
BRILLIANT poem if ever! Very funny and kept me enthralled all the way through the poem...This is really an excellent poem....Zainab
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