Goosing Goose Pinched!

This is Mr. Waddles.

He’s the gander who lives in the pond beside the Kelley House Museum in Mendocino Village.

Or he was.

Because it was discovered Thursday morning that Mr. Waddles has been geesenapped.



Some jackass abducted Mr. Waddles and stole him from his pond.

And from his mate, too. I hope you’re happy, you fucking fiend. Way to chip away at Mendo pride, douchebag. Mrs. Waddles is beside herself with worry and grief, I’ll have you know.

I’m not only furious about this, but I’m concerned, too. Because as you can tell from these pictures, Mr. Waddles is a vicious, vicious little prick. He spends his time lurking on the other side of this fence, serrated beak at the ready, just waiting for unsuspecting tourists (and their pale, chubby legs) to wander too close. Then...


Mothers become infuriated, fathers yell, children cry...

And I laugh. And laugh. And laugh...

See? When it comes to Mendocino, Mr. Waddles represents. So who would abduct him? And how would you shanghai a goose this ferocious to begin with? Mr. Waddles is clearly capable of rendering any potential kidnapper into a bruised and bleeding pulp within mere seconds, so I’m worried that there’s no way to steal him quietly without wringing his neck.

And so help me god, if some deranged asshole has killed Mr. Waddles, I will hunt the jerk down, roll him naked in peanut butter suet, and let Mrs. Waddles have her way with him.

If you have any information concerning Mr. Waddles' abduction or whereabouts, please call the Fort Bragg Police Department at 707-961-2800, or KOZT-FM radio at 707-964-7277, or the Kelley House Museum at 707-937-5791.

Is this for reals? Oh, it’s for reals, all right.

Jendocino’s coming for you, you fucking ganderjacker.


  1. I'm all for kindness to animals but that thing was a fiend incarnate. Should he have been abducted alive the kidnappers would already have surrendered. He has to be dead. I'm trying to work up sympathy here. ... Well, I'll keep trying.

  2. I'm trying too. But I keep snorting. I'm....snort....sorry. I really hope you find the no-good ganderjacker.

    I went to college for a very short time at this little hell hole in Missouri. The one place where I'd go to write about the misery of being me was at a lake not far from the school populated by a vicious tribe of geese. I'd get in about 20 minutes of writing before they'd attack, and I'd have to run for my life.

  3. Ah, geese. So noble. So beautiful. So vicious. No word yet on the whereabouts of poor Mr. Waddles. I'm holding out hope, but I fear the worst. Karma, you know...

  4. Nuts. Damn humans have no sense of humor.

    I had one of these very geese. Bought the egg at the Chico Co-op and put it under my Bantie Hen, who hatched out a ginourmous, fluffy goose, who we named Chico. He grew into a watch-goose with these very tendencies which made him kind of awful to live with. I found a home and wife for him and he (they) lived very happily near a large pond for many many years. I guess this was a good ending.

    Vigilante justice is always scarey.

  5. Mr. Waddles has been recovered! The Kelley House Museum got him back last night, although the ganderjackers are still at large. So it looks like a happy ending for Mr. Waddles, too. At least, this time...