Then Lucifer looked up. He saw me on the deck. He tilted his head. He hissed.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the landlord," I said to the bird. "You work for me. Your job is to eat bugs and terrorize the lady with the clipboard. Got it."
Lucifer honked. I took that as a yes.
I walked to the back gate. I unlocked the heavy padlock that I usually kept on it. I removed the chain. I left the gate secured only by the standard gravity latch. Anyone could open it from the outside by just lifting the lever. But right at eye level, bold and red, was the sign, danger, aggressive geese.
I went inside, made myself a sandwich, and sat by the window. I sent an email to Mrs. Higgins and the HOA board. Subject: Compliance with access request. Dear Mrs. Higgins, per your demand, the padlock has been removed from the rear gate of 402 Maple Drive to facilitate your drainage.
Inspection access is now available. Please be advised that the property is currently patrolled by free-range security poultry as permitted by City Ordinance 44B. Please observe all posted safety warnings on the perimeter fence. The homeowner assumes no liability for interactions with the animals should you choose to enter the property. Regards, Mike Henderson.
I hit send. I checked the time. It was Saturday evening. She wouldn't come tonight. She would come Monday morning. She was a stickler for the schedule.
Sunday was a training day. I spent the day on the deck tossing lettuce to the squad. I learned quickly that they could be bribed but not tamed.
If I had lettuce, I was a god. If I didn't, I was a target. This was perfect. Higgins wouldn't have lettuce.
Monday morning arrived. The sun rose. The birds were already awake, honking softly as they patrolled the perimeter. I could see their little webbed feet pacing back and forth along the fence line. They knew the territory now. This was their kingdom.
At 7:55 a.m., I brewed a fresh pot of coffee. I set up my camera on a tripod in the kitchen pointed directly at the backyard gate. I also pulled up the feed from the Ring floodlight camera I had mounted above the shed.
At 8:01 a.m., I saw her, Mrs. Higgins. She wasn't alone. She had a young guy with her, maybe 20 years old, wearing a polo shirt that was too big for him. He was holding a tape measure and looking miserable.
An intern. Poor kid.
They walked down the side path of my house. I watched on the monitor. Higgins was marching with purpose. She reached the gate. She saw the bright red sign.
She stopped. She read it. She adjusted her glasses. She turned to the intern and said something. The audio on the camera picked it up faintly.
"Ridiculous. Probably a bluff. He just wants to scare us. Open it, Kevin."
Kevin looked at the sign. Aggressive waterfowl. He looked at Higgins.
"Mrs. Higgins, it says, 'Enter at your own risk.' Maybe we should knock."
"Nonsense," she snapped. "We have the authority. Open the gate. I need to measure the gradient near the back flower bed."
Kevin, poor, sweet, doomed Kevin, reached out. He lifted the latch. I took a sip of coffee.
The gate swung inward. For a split second, nothing happened. The yard looked empty. The geese were near the shed, out of the direct line of sight.
Higgins stepped in. "See? Nothing. Just theatrics." She took three steps onto the grass.
Honk.
It came from the left. A sound like a trumpet blown by a demon. Lucifer exploded from behind the rhododendron bush.
He didn't fly. He ran. His neck extended parallel to the ground. Wings spread wide to make himself look like a feathered B-52 bomber.
Higgins froze. "What in the...?"
Then the others came. Fluffy and Ripper flanked her from the right. It was a tactical ambush. I swear they had practiced this.
"Oh my God!" Kevin screamed. He was still standing in the gateway. Lucifer reached Higgins.
He didn't peck her. He went for intimidation. He rushed her shins, hissing loudly, flapping his wings against her legs. The force of a goose-wing slap is surprisingly strong. It's like being hit with a heavy pillowcase.
"Get away! Shoo! Shoo!" Higgins shrieked, swinging her clipboard wildly. "This was a mistake. Aggression begets aggression."
Attila saw the clipboard as a weapon. He launched himself into the air, hopping up to chest height, snapping his beak. Ah! Higgins did a clumsy pirouette, trying to fend them off. She dropped the clipboard.
Kevin, in a moment of pure survival instinct, backed out of the gate and slammed it shut.
"Kevin, open the gate!" Higgins screamed. She was trapped inside with them.
I almost choked on my coffee. I hadn't anticipated the intern locking her in. It was better than I could have dreamed. Higgins was now running, actually running, in a tight circle, pursued by six angry geese.
She scrambled toward the only high ground available, my patio table on the lower deck. She hiked up her khaki pants and clambered onto the table, knocking over a citronella candle. The geese surrounded the table. They paced around it, honking rhythmically. It was a siege.
"Help! Help! I'm being attacked by chickens!" she screamed at my back door.
I unlocked the sliding glass door and stepped out, holding my mug. I stayed behind the screen door, though. Safety first.
"Morning, Patricia," I called out cheerfully. "They're geese, actually. Chinese watch geese. Lovely breed."
"Call them off! Call them off this instant!" she shrieked, her hair coming undone. Lucifer nipped at the heel of her sensible shoe dangling off the table. She pulled her legs up, hugging her knees.
"I can't really control them," I said, taking a sip. "They're free-range, very independent. Did you not see the sign?"
"I am going to sue you for everything you own," she yelled, her face beet red. "I am the president of the association."