Goose pulling (also called gander pulling, goose riding or pulling the goose) was a blood sport practiced in parts of the Netherlands, Belgium, England and North America from the 17th to the 19th centuries. The sport involved fastening a live goose with a well-greased head to a rope or pole that was stretched across a road. A man riding on horseback at a full gallop would attempt to grab the bird by the neck in order to pull the head off.[1] Sometimes a live hare was substituted.[2] It is still practised today, using a dead goose, in parts of Belgium and in Grevenbicht in the Netherlands[3] as part of Shrove Tuesday and in some towns in Germany as part of the Shrove Monday celebrations.
A link to the above photo and article landed in my inbox Sunday afternoon from Cycling Utah Dave. I was unaware of this type of Goose Riding and the connotation that phrase could have had in 17th century Belgium. On a positive note, if the Gander ever get’s authorized we already know what we will say when we ride it.
“Did you ‘Ride the Goose’ this weekend?”
“No. I Pulled the Gander.”
Yesterday was Sunday which means the Church of the Holy Alliance of Mooseknucklers held services. While we neither Rode the Goose nor Pulled the Gander, we did rock the shit out of the Creek which is Little.
Services were supposed to happen on the Goose in the presence of a visiting dignitary, Jamon, but when KB and I hit the Chacon-Pratt Social Lounge said dignitary was passed out and planning was left for the morning. I waited until a hair past 8 and then sent out my plan. The plan that was inspired by the divine was to leave the Lounge at 10 and hit Little Creek. Slowly the texts came back in the affirmative.
And then we all experienced a miracle. Joey showed up 15 minutes early.
While we didn’t get to be blessed with Jamon’s presence, we did have a fucking awesome ride. We rode both of the outer loops. And while we weren’t in any kind of a hurry, it took us almost four hours, we enjoyed the journey. Every last pedal stroke of it.
In other news regarding things that landed in my inbox, the Alliance website received a spam comment that linked to this.
Why someone would take the time to spam the Alliance, I don’t know. And then use that spam to promote that video. Whatever. It’s actually kind of a cute video. Comment approved.
On a somber note, I posted back in December that I had needed some photos printed for some Xmas gifts, but found that my favorite and only camera store had closed its doors. I always felt a strong loyalty to Fred as I had spent an enormous amount of time in his home when I was a teenager. My first and second SLRs were purchased from the store and I bought all my equipment from them until the store went out of business. One of the first things that showed up in my Facebook feeds this morning was an obituary for Fred’s adopted son Tony who was the other face that was always at Camera Country. I have no idea what happened, but my thoughts go out to the Topalian family.
Which for whatever reason has me currently listening to No Use for a Name. If you can get in your way back train, you will remember that Tony Sly died a couple of years ago. Other than both being named Tony and dying prematurely in their 40s, I don’t think either man has anything in common, but I leave you with one of the best songs ever written.
R.I.P. Tony…
Now we just need to figure out what “Pulling the Goose” will mean.
P. L. and R.
