March marks the month when the snow geese fly heavily over the Eastern side of our state, and the Department of Wildlife encourages hunters to shoot as many of the beautiful birds as they can, to help control a burgeoning population. My husband, always being one to help out where needed, packed up his guns and decoys and made the trek to the Eastern slope. He returned with 20 geese, and had a great time.
I wish I could tell you that I am able to find some enjoyment in plucking geese, but that would be a lie. It's flat out miserable work, and hardly worth it for the amount of effort involved. We plucked two, saving the down for another pillow. After that, we gave up and he just skinned the rest.
I won't post the pictures: I know I have some vegetarian readers who wouldn't appreciate them much, and dead geese aren't all that photogenic anyhow. There are a few pictures on last year's goose blog if you're desperate to see them.
The girls have absolutely no qualms about a pile of dead geese by the fence. We hung them by their feet on the swing set as we plucked. Cora alternated between "helping" to pull out feathers, and swinging alongside a dead, half-plucked goose. It never occurred to her that it might be a little strange. Chloe held wing feathers in her hands and ran about the yard pretending to fly. They have a healthy understanding of where their food comes from.
So now we have feathers all over the yard (and the house, and our clothes) but we have a pile of snow geese in the freezer too. So it's all worth it in the end, right? Eh, well... maybe.