It was always going to happen … was just a case of when. My mother has three of my 17 goslings on her land, and they live – awkwardly – with her hens. Not in the henhouse, but they have the same Fort Knox enclosure for when she isn’t there to police them.
One morning she went to visit them. She could see the hens crowded round something. They were fluffed up and shrieking. She said she’d never heard them like that.
As she got closer, she could see a goose in the ring. It was pecking at something, but she couldn’t see what.
As she rounded the corner of the enclosure, she realised what was going on. The goose had a hen held down under its substantial foot, and was pecking and jabbing at it.
It escaped with its life … this time. But there’ll be another. There always is.