SLOW, GOOSE CROSSING
The traffic flow on route 2, a busy four lane road, was a little unusual last Sunday. Normally it runs more or less steadily north and south. But on the 26th there was a flock of rebels heading east and slow about it to boot.
The first goose crossed in front of my car as I headed south. I’m used to seeing the flock of about 20 Canada geese near here, grazing in front of the shopping center. To me they aren’t pests. Just creatures adapting, as we all are, to multiplying humans and their machines.
I was able to stop in time. I held my breath and hoped the car coming up on my left would stop too. She did. Two lanes down. Two to go. The second and third geese had now stepped off the curb.
The light changed and a pickup bounded into a left turn and headed north. He stopped. The small red car screeching along on the far side headed north, did not, but the geese hadn’t gotten that far. And the next northbound car did stop.
All four lanes were now stopped as the full flock waddled in comic majesty across the normally intensely busy road. I felt vastly entertained. But the cowboy in the pickup must have found the scene lacking. Or maybe he felt imposed on by the slow moving line.
So the young man with a big hat and a wide grin, jumped out of his truck and tried his hand at herding. He flapped his hat while doing a little goosestep himself and the birds responded in kind. They picked up the pace and added a little flap of their own. In a minute the parade was over and the road was clear.
I drove off immensely satisfied. I liked myself a little better. I liked Rhode Island and Rhode Islanders a little better. Felt better about my world and life in general. Nice payoff for a ten minute delay in my errand.