[Boris]

Cute post Ray. Brings back some memories. Like the time I was fishing on Whitefish Lake near where Swift Creek comes in. There was a mother goose and her row of little goslings following her around the lake. Except there was one poor little guy who had hurt is foot and couldn't paddle straight.

He couldn't keep up and was squawking as loud as his cute little gosling lungs would let him. Mommy goose would look back once in awhile and murmer encouragement. That little guy was paddling with all his might with his one good foot. But he just couldn't paddle straight and he was using way too much energy to keep up with the family. As I was trying to catch my dinner I watched the sad scene unfold, the pathetic, desperate squawking ringing in my ears. I knew that before the night was over that goose would be cooked, figuratively speaking.