I am Cyclist Hear me Roar

You can sometimes feel quite small and vulnerable on a bike – like yesterday when a large silver pickup decided to whizz past me just as a large white van was nosing out of the junction I was cycling past. Threading between two big hunks of metal with (apparently) idiots at the wheel you are more frightened than frightening, to be honest.

So it was a nice contrast today as I cycled down to the shop for the paper. Not only was there a heartening absence of idiot-piloted close-passing hunks of metal, there was a huge stubble field full of geese* – back for the winter from somewhere less balmy – and not somewhere with a lot of cyclists. At the sight of me on my bike, puny as I am, the whole flock took off as one and filled the sky with the most incredible racket, unable to settle while the dreadful velocipede was loose amongst them. I have to admit, it made me grin. I may not make much of an impression on White Van Man, but I am at least absolutely terrifying to geese.

* I should probably know which ones but they were on the pink-foot / greylag continuum. Greyfoots? Pinklags?

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