He let his bike slow to a stop, stepped off of it, lowered the kickstand. The geese on the grassy banks on either side of the road drew him. He wanted them to go into the pond. Like herding cats, I thought. It occured to me to shut the hell up. I watched as he attempted to corral them to the water's edge, their resoluteness in refusing, and occasionally my impatience overtook my desire. I wanted him to come on, get back on the bike, let's do what we came out here to do. But he would resist my entreaties, and once again run at the birds to make his idea happen.
And it did - I still don't quite know how, but two sets of fowl, on either side of the road that bridged the pond, ran into the water in high style, swimming away from him with grace and surrender. "What an experience!" he said, thrilled at the sight and the reward of his persistance.
I need to shut the hell up more often.
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