Light as a feather

The dog strained at the leash, causing the woman’s arm to pull painfully. She almost lost her footing on the wet slippery leaves. It had rained the night before, and she was afraid the leaves would stick to her tennis shoes and get tracked into her kitchen. That always seemed to happen.

She was tired, probably since she hadn’t slept well the night before. Like a lot of nights lately, she couldn’t fall asleep. Instead, she laid in bed uncomfortably while her thoughts circled round and round. There were certain things in her life that her mind always went back to at night. She simply couldn’t put them to rest. Maybe if she could, she would finally get some sleep. 

 She really didn’t want to be outside this early in the morning. She wanted to be inside with her coffee, curled up on the couch, waking up slowly. But she had promised her daughter she would dogsit, and the dog needed to go out. She thought the early morning walks were good for her. She was at that stage of her life where she really needed more exercise. And mental clarity. Physically and mentally, exercise was good for her. Maybe the fresh air would clear her head and help her insomnia. At any rate, the dog was a good reason to get moving and head outside.

Hearing a honking nose, she looked up in the sky where geese were flying overhead. The dog also looked up, nose in the air sniffing. It had to be one of the largest formations of geese she had ever seen. The geese were flying in their usual V, but had somewhat unusual coloring being pure white with black tipped wings, as if their wings were dipped in an inkwell.

Much to her surprise, she saw the flock descend so that they were flying just barely over the treetops that bordered her property. She and the dog were walking in the field beyond her back yard, and the geese seemed to be heading their way. She squinted, trying to make out the faint white outline that appeared below each goose’s head. What was it that they were holding in their mouths?

Suddenly, whatever it was they were holding fell all at once, almost as if it was a synchronized attack. She traced one of the objects with her eyes. It floated gently down from the sky and drifted slowly down to earth where it was soon joined by hundreds of others until the sky was a blur of white. Something landed softly on the shoulder of her gray sweatshirt. She brushed it off and picked it up to examine it. A white, fluffy feather.

Many others were falling as well. The feathers rained down on her until her hair and sweatshirt were covered. She brushed them out of her hair. Her gray sweatshirt was now white. She pulled up her hood, causing several feathers to fall on the ground. To her horror, she glanced up and noticed that the geese were now pulling more feathers out with their beaks, honking as they did so. They left the black feathers underneath their wings alone, pulling out only the white ones on top.

Their necks were twisted uncomfortably. They pulled hard at their plumage with their beaks, honking in agony. Their white feathers were turning red, as the geese drew blood with their sharp beaks. The feathers continued to descend, swirling around her until she was covered once again. Now the gray sweatshirt was not just white, but white and red where the blood stained feathers had rained down on her.

She recoiled in horror. What were these geese trying to tell her? Why were they only pulling out the white ones? They were pulling so hard that their white bodies were rapidly turning red with blood.

The dog was going crazy, barking shrilly and jumping, pulling her off her feet. The honking was growing even louder. She had never heard geese honking so loudly before. The geese were very agitated, working themselves into some kind of frenzy, attacking themselves again and again, honking in pain and anger. Somehow through it all, however, they managed to keep their v formation.

After flying over her field, they turned around en masse and doubled back again. They flew over her and the dog once more and dropped more feathers. Her field, normally with fallen leaves by the tree line and bare grass in the middle, was now a mixture of wet leaves and blood stained feathers. It was a disgusting mess.

The dog pulled her around in excited circles, barking in cacophony with the geese and lunging upwards. She held him tightly, suddenly afraid he might also get attacked by the geese. She picked up a blood stained feather, holding it by the tip. The dog had finally stopped jumping and was now also bending down to pick up a feather with his mouth. She tugged on his leash, pulling him away forcefully. She could imagine her daughter’s horror if she learned her beloved golden retriever was eating bloody feathers.

They had better hightail it into the house. She dragged the dog away and walked quickly back to the house, the geese honking all the while and continuing to drop feathers. As she hurried back towards her front door, she thought of the few things she knew about geese.

Geese migrated every year, flying down south. They flew in a v. It seemed like people liked to hunt them, at least here in the midwest. She had never seen geese like this before though, both in terms of their coloration and bizarre, bloodthirsty behavior. Were these animals diseased or infected with something? Was this some kind of group or flock mania? Did she need to call animal control? Should she call her son to come over with his shotgun?

She wondered again what these geese were trying to tell her. Was their feather attack a sign from above? Did the geese or whoever had sent them approve or disapprove of the way she was living her life? Was the pulling out of white feathers a sign that she needed to come clean with her past? Was it a sign that that was once pure was now tainted? Did they know the guilty secrets she kept buried deep inside? Did they know the most painful one of all, the secret that kept her awake at night? 

Her thoughts raced. Was it possible they knew her deep, dark secret? The one that would surely send her to hell some day. Was this some sort of divine punishment from above? Or was it absolution?

Maybe she would never know. The feathers were light, but they were also tinged in blood. The blood of the innocent, shed for her sins. She bowed her head and crossed herself. May her way be once again pure. May the things she carried now be . . . She bit back a sob and collected herself. May the things she carried now be, she paused, light as a feather.