Call of the Goose

Author's Note: One foggy morning I went out to the yard on the first movement. I had a bag of stale popcorn one of the other inmates had given me for "My Geese." That was how things were thought of, I was the "gooseman" and the flock was mine. I had comments from yard cops on how well the geese responded to me, and how they had never seen them eat out of a person's hand. There was never any static about my feeding them.

That misty morning I went out with the old pop corn and the geese were just inside the yard gate, like they were waiting for me. I sat on the concrete bench and was quietly tossing the popcorn to the birds. There was a black guard working the yard that morning we called, "Robo-Cop." His stated goal was to be, "The best Damn Officer On this Island." His shoes were polished like mirrors and the crease in his slacks was like a knife. He saw me feeding the geese and came storming over. He was shouting like I had personally offended him and his language was very abusive. "You fat dumpy faggot. Stop feeding those birds!" Before I could respond he snatched the bag of popcorn away and threw it in the trash.

I had been in the system long enough to know this was not right. The officers must treat you with courtesy and respect even if they don't like you. I stood up to him and I was angry. I told him that I thought his action was out of place and not very professional. He told me to shut up and get away from him. "What are you going to do?" I yelled, "Put me in Jail?" The only thing he could do was make me leave the yard for that period and go back to my cell. I wrote a three page grievance to his supervisor. I went out to the yard at next movement and the geese were gone. This was the usual pattern, they would leave for most of the day, but when they did not return that evening I knew they were gone for the winter. That night I wrote:

The yard is damp and empty now,
The rain has come, but still some how,
Each and every drop that falls
Will brighten the colors of nature's halls.
Gone are the creatures fall would bring,
The geese, the crows, have taken wing,
There's no one in the yard today,
The wind is cold, the sky is gray
No longer there to give him peace,
For the gray old man who feeds the geese.
He's moved inside, out of the weather,
Sits in his cell and strokes a feather,
left behind by his friends out there,
Reminds him of the love they share
For summer is gone and Fall has fallen
Winter is here and the geese are callin'.

Copyright © 1990, Doc Livingston.