Most kind acts don’t end with a blacked-out preacher and an umbrella-wielding churchgoer. And no — it’s not what you think.

Blame the geese.

One warm Saturday night, my cousin’s father, a pastor at a Columbus church, was preparing for a missionary dinner being held that night. Every year, a pair of Canada geese sets up their nest in a corner of the parking lot, so before the dinner he headed out with some orange cones to be placed near the nest, not wanting the geese to be frightened by people parking near them.

If anything, it was the pastor who needed some protection.

Before he knew it, a hissing, flapping, angry mass of a goose was charging toward him, knocking him over so hard the fall on the pavement caused him to temporarily black out. The goose, now joined by its partner, fell to attacking him. Moments later, a woman who had happened to see it all rushed out on the offensive with her umbrella.

How she did it only she knows, but the geese soon retreated. The pastor came to, and his only injury was — yes — a goose egg.

Have you ever wanted to do something extra special for someone and then just had it thrown back in your face? I remember when my youngest brother was about 3, and my mother had bought him one of those monkey sock-dolls for Christmas. She was excited to give him this nostalgic gift — it reminded her of her own childhood. Christmas morning, after laboriously unwrapping the paper with his little fingers, he glanced toward the monkey, quickly ascertained there were no buttons to push or flashing lights to be mesmerized by, and threw it over his shoulder, toddling over to the next present. My mom took it in stride, but we still tease my brother sometimes.

It’s like piano lessons. The swim team. Broccoli or brushing your teeth or no, no ice cream for breakfast. Things you’re told to do for your own benefit. I believe orange cones fall under this category — he was only doing what was best for the geese!

The exterminator who the church called came the following Monday and described the geese as the “most aggressive” he’s ever seen. Luckily for them, though unhappily for some other community out there, the geese left before anything could be done. Their eggs hatched, and they left the church parking lot.

Maybe the church should leave the cones up anyway — as a testimony to the faith of those stalwart geese. They protected their nest against what they thought was an invader — much like you protected yourself from those (seemingly) loathsome vegetables when you were young. You didn’t always eat your broccoli. Geese don’t always appreciate the human-proofing of their nursery. But regardless of what happens, kids are kids and geese are geese, and only the big guy upstairs knows the value of true appreciation.

Caitlin Brown is a freshman nursing major and a columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Contact her at [email protected].