Wednesday, 25 April 2007

Murder and retribution

I am the Snow Queen. Or perhaps the Snow Goose. My hair and clothes are covered in flecks of white down, a mark of Cain. For I have done murder and the youngest goose is now plucked and swinging by its feet, from a beam in the workshop. It was due to be dispatched for Easter, but somehow busy-ness prevailed and it continued its reign of terror in the orchard, charging the dogs, nipping the sheep and cadging the odd ride. It was the most feisty gosling I've ever raised, often scorning the protection of the flock to venture alone to seek new mischief and create noisy mayhem. But as it reached maturity, and started to fulfil its Oedipal destiny, with mother and sister having their head feathers aggressively plucked off during incestuous encounters, the pot called ever louder. A spare two hours (it takes me that long to pluck a goose, not having any fancy waxing, boiling or other medieval sounding kit) meant his time was nigh. I caught him by the neck, he was tucked under an arm and taken away to be swiftly dealt with, but as I turned my back his father pecked me by the knee, hard and sharp. The nip broke the skin through my jeans and has left a dark blood-blister and a mark the size of a ten pence piece. It seems only fair.

10 comments:

Emily said...

I wanted to comment to say I stumbled upon your blog today. I dont have much of an opinion on it.....as I am an american that has never even seen a farm....but it did give me a peek inside a totally different world then my own.

Chip Dale said...

You clearly have a remarkable blog, though I think for a limited audience who enjoy looking at goose / sheep porn. I find that picture very disturbing...

mutterings and meanderings said...

I love roast goose. Very nice if you smear plum jam over the breast before you cook it. Yum, yum!

Mopsa said...

Hi Emily - nice of you to stop by.

Chippy - I exist to serve. I like to share the disturbing moments of life.

M&M - that sounds delish - also damsons, apricots or the trad apple approach. There's that fruit/goose thing going on, due no doubt to them being reared in an orchard.

rilly super said...

M&M, you do mean the goose's breast don't you dear?

Mopsa said...

Possibly not, Rilly - conjures up a picture!

mutterings and meanderings said...

Ladies, my breast wouldn't be big enought to serve a family if it were roasted ...

Around My Kitchen Table said...

Oh God, geese! Your posting immediately took me back to my childhood on a Devon farm. I love animals but geese are vicious creatures! We used to get off the school bus and run as fast as we could for the house with a flock of these hideous hissing creatures chasing us. We kept a biggish flock which we killed at Christmas and when I got older I had to help pluck the bloody things - what a job. The first couple were OK but by the end of the day I was so BORED and usually cold, dirty and aching to boot. Then every year there would be the big debate about how best to get the feathers off - plain plucking, immersing in hot water first, ironing them (yes, this really worked!) and then one year I'm sure a friend of my father's brought round a strange plucking contraption... but that might be a figment of my fevered imagination.
I love your blog, by the way.

Mopsa said...

M&M - I'm sure they are perfect.
AMKT - thank you - I'll be having a reciprocal look v soon!

Hannah Velten said...

I hope you enjoyed him! Sounded like he was rather a...character, shall we say?!