Uncommon Valor: Protecting Humanity for Flock's Sake

When it comes to standing up for what we believe in, few of us have the determination, bravery and strength of character to take action. Sure, Al Gore may preach environmentalism, but he consumes more energy than the state of Delaware in order to travel around the country lecturing, and he leaves behind a bigger carbon footprint than Magnus Backstedt walking through the mud in his cycling shoes. And yeah, Mother Teresa may be a world-famous humanitarian, but what has she done since like 1997? Oh, I suppose the world's all better now, right Terry? Even I myself could stand to use a little less talk and a little more action. I may whine with the strength of a thousand Joy Behars, but for all my ranting about things like pie plates what have I actually done about it?

Fortunately for humanity, some of us still know when it's time to walk the walk--or in this case waddle the waddle. And sometimes, humanity must look outside of itself for protection. Indeed, Bryan Redemske of Omaha, NE informs me that there is a goose in Traverse City, MI who is attacking cyclists who ride with pie plates:

Now, I'm not a sentimental person, but I'm also not ashamed to say that when I first set eyes on this photograph I was moved to tears. Actual tears. This shot captures the sort of bravery that has heretofore only been conveyed by things like the Iwo Jima memorial and that painting of Washington crossing the Delaware. If only I could paint I would render this image in oils and give it pride of place above my television set (which is the most sanctified non-wheeled object in my home). The majesty of the goose's outstretched wings juxtaposed with the look of abject horror on the rider's face as he realizes that it is indeed too late to repent for his pie plate-loving ways makes me as proud to be a pie plateless cyclist as it's possible to be.

Lest you condemn me though for not empathizing with the cyclist, let me just say that I do feel for him. I've never been attacked by a goose myself, but I would imagine it feels something like being scraped at with a pair of emery boards while getting beaten with a couple of flannel shirts. (I suppose there might even be some carpet tacks involved as well--I don't know if those webbed goose feet have claws at the end of them as few have seen a goose foot up close and lived to tell about it.) But as cruel a fate as that may be, he knew perfectly well when he swung a Docker-clad leg over that gel saddle, flipped up the kickstand with the heel of his Rockport, and set out on his way to the comic book store that he risked feeling the cruel sting of Anserine ire.

So rather than mourn the fate of our wayward brother, who doubtless wound up laying on the ground in the fetal position moments after this picture was taken as the goose pecked violently at his pie plate, let us celebrate the worthiness of this water fowl. Let us also imagine our hero standing atop the now-pie plateless Bianchi, beating the air with his (or her--I know nothing of goose-sexing) mighty wings and honking in triumph. Thus, I am proud to confer upon this goose, for rising above the gaggle and displaying bravery in the face of extreme dorkiness, the BSNYC/RTMS Medal of Honor:

If anybody in Traverse City can get close enough to this thing to slip it around his neck I'd really appreciate it.