![]() Humans have it pretty lucky.īut when I have these lists magically appear under one of my wings, and I get to take my time figuring out the chain of events I need to pull off with my beak, with no worries about hunger, or survival, or snakes (HONK!), I revert to a simpler time. It's not like something out of these video games that humans play, where you get to honk around, be silly, or fake like, I don't know, a goat or a ceramic mug. Being a goose isn't all it's cracked up to be. That's the thing I keep coming back to in my little goose brain: this all feels very whimsical. They goad me along, like something out of one of those children's television shows I've heard about. But mostly, I like these little piano melodies. I could've been great at piano, Mama Goose. I've always resented that my mother didn't encourage my artistic side when I was a gosling. And when I alarm someone, the piano ditty sounds a little scarier, like something is about to happen. When I see people going about their routines, a floaty piano melody plinks in the background, as if I should notice what they're doing. Rogers’ NeighborhoodĪs I'm doing all of this, I hear music. I hear a "swip" sound of a pencil dragging across my list. But the farmer still can't find me, and thus, he covers his bald head with the sun hat. Honk! That's it! I can reach the hat when he bends down, so I do that, run to some shrubs, and hide by lowering my neck. After knocking out some simpler tasks on the list, I notice that when I pluck a rose from the farmer's garden, he keeps bending down to replant the rose. What else can I do? Think, goose brain, think. It asks me at one point to get the farmer to "wear a sun hat." I see the farmer, who's wearing a really small hat, and I see the sun hat, which is out of my reach altogether. I dragged the rake far enough, dropped it into the water, and laughed again.īut other stuff on the list isn't so clear. My first list suggested that I drag a farmer's rake into a lake. Why do I have to be annoying? I don't know why my list asks me to annoy everyone. These little things always seem to annoy people. Sometimes, it'll tell me to do something simple: pick something up, then drag it somewhere else. It did the trick.Īlso, I can take my sweet time and ignore the list, but it's a comforting thing to refer to. Someone wrote on it in nice, cursive handwriting. Maybe it was under one of these worthless wings the whole time. I said "duck." That's a bird joke.Īfter waddling through the open gate, I heard a rustle of notebook paper, and I realized I had a list. I could tell I needed to duck my head to pull one post in the grass, then raise my head to yank another post. Then I saw a gate, but it was bolted shut. Then I saw a tin can, and I got this sneaking sensation that I should bend down again and pick it up with my beak, which was also fun. Don't ask me how.) I saw a log, and I heard a voice tell me how to lower my neck to go under it. ![]() I shook my head from my nap, peeked out from a shrub, and began exploring. I woke up in a quiet little field a little while ago. Eventually, you'll reach the other side, at which point you can more easily return to various zones of goose silliness. ![]() We can't reach that handle from this side.
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