Yesterday Edmund came hurrying into the house carrying one of the geese in his arms. He began a convoluted story of how he was going to gather the eggs, when he was waylaid by our tyrannical rooster, Angus. As he turned to run he noticed that something was amiss with one of the geese. She had somehow gotten her leg entangled in some fishing line, and the line was threatening to cut off the circulation to her foot. A chase ensued around the pond - Edmund running after the goose, and Angus after Edmund. Providentially, the dragging fishing line snagged on a stick bringing the fleeing creature to a halt, thus enabling Edmund to tackle her.
Unfortunately, Mummy was sick and in bed. So, into the bedroom Edmund brought the goose. As I inspected her leg, Joey ran to get a scissors. I struggled to cut the line free with shaking feverish hands. Out of one eye I watched the goose's bill come closer and closer to my ear. She was making sniffing sounds. Very ominous. (Edmund later sniffed me and said I smelled good and that was why she was so interested). I think she wanted to bite me. I was finally able to slip the tip of an embroidery scissors between the fishing line and her skin, and with one snip, she was free. She seemed to know the worst was over and began beating her wings and kicking her large, muddy, webbed feet all over the white coverlet.
Later, Edmund and William climbed into bed next to me with a pile of Beatrix Potter books. We spent a good part of the afternoon naming our ducks and geese after characters from her books. The rescued goose is "Ginger"; the other two "Cecily" and "Parsley" as one can't tell them apart. Three of the ducks now have names: Mr. Drake Puddleduck, Jemima Puddleduck, and Rebeccah Puddleduck. We're still deciding on the other two.
After several attempted catnaps in which one of the cats wakened me each time (is life ironic or what?), Joey came in to the bedroom for help with an essay. We worked and discussed great things, and got a good second draft going.
That evening, feeling better, I helped Mary make cherry jam. I can't tell you what a joy it was to teach her this skill. Perhaps one day she'll make jam for her own family.
All in all, these unexpected and precious moments with my children made up for the fact that I was unwell. It was a very good day.
Unfortunately, Mummy was sick and in bed. So, into the bedroom Edmund brought the goose. As I inspected her leg, Joey ran to get a scissors. I struggled to cut the line free with shaking feverish hands. Out of one eye I watched the goose's bill come closer and closer to my ear. She was making sniffing sounds. Very ominous. (Edmund later sniffed me and said I smelled good and that was why she was so interested). I think she wanted to bite me. I was finally able to slip the tip of an embroidery scissors between the fishing line and her skin, and with one snip, she was free. She seemed to know the worst was over and began beating her wings and kicking her large, muddy, webbed feet all over the white coverlet.
Later, Edmund and William climbed into bed next to me with a pile of Beatrix Potter books. We spent a good part of the afternoon naming our ducks and geese after characters from her books. The rescued goose is "Ginger"; the other two "Cecily" and "Parsley" as one can't tell them apart. Three of the ducks now have names: Mr. Drake Puddleduck, Jemima Puddleduck, and Rebeccah Puddleduck. We're still deciding on the other two.
After several attempted catnaps in which one of the cats wakened me each time (is life ironic or what?), Joey came in to the bedroom for help with an essay. We worked and discussed great things, and got a good second draft going.
That evening, feeling better, I helped Mary make cherry jam. I can't tell you what a joy it was to teach her this skill. Perhaps one day she'll make jam for her own family.
All in all, these unexpected and precious moments with my children made up for the fact that I was unwell. It was a very good day.
I really like this story. :D
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