Lot Goose

I was wondering what creatures had become casualties of this extreme weather. Last night on an errand on 7th Ave the kids and I were pelted with sleet that pinched like tiny needles as it fell at an unknown velocity from the laden clouds to our lips and eyes. And then it got stranger, waking up to some of the stickiest snow I've ever seen luxuriously redressing every exposed surface. Some kind soul with a snow blower took it upon himself to clear the sidewalk around the house on the corner so the woman who lived there only had to shovel her stairs when she came out. I don't admire those that own corner lots on days like this.

When I took the dog down to Prospect I saw that even the vinyl Key Food awning had a good amount of snow stuck to it, a parking lot barren of all cars, blanketed with the same dense carpet as everywhere else. Something had parked right in the middle of it, a lone Canada Goose marooned smack in the center. I later discovered the goose had been injured and saw a bloody gash behind its right leg. It must have felt good to lie there with the thick soft snow numbing its wound, the world snowed in and away. It had been there since about 4 a.m. according to the woman on the corner. I went home and brought her some cornmeal which she nibbled when I was a safe distance away. I doubted she was able to leave but was proved wrong when a golden retriever approached. She was in the air a split second later, heading West.