The Pitter Patter of Little Feet

No, I didn't just give birth or adopt. I'm talking about the delicate sounds of twenty pounds of geese pounding about on my roof every morning.

I live on the third floor of a three-story apartment building, and every morning a flock of geese greets the dawn atop the peek of my roof. They fly in softly, land with the delicacy of a toddler running across hollow logs, and carry on a conversation at the top of their lungs with the geese over a hundred yards away atop a different building. Then, after about an hour or so of carrying on, they swoop down off the roof (usually frightening me and my cats) and fly off into the greenbelt, honking and squawking at full volume.

I love it.

This morning, when I took out the trash, two waddled to the very edge of the roof and eyed me the way of birds the world over, head cocked a little to the side. They were clearly enjoying their lofty position. As I walked away, they honked softly at me, then louder and louder the farther away I got, reminding me of an insecure bully, who only taunts you when he knows you're too far away to do anything about it. When I walked back, they grew quiet and still, watching me intently. Once I was out of sight, they started honking amongst themselves again. I wish I'd gotten a picture. They were so cute!