When we arrived in Wichita last night at our hotel, I would have said that someone’s chihuahua had a tummy ache after eating too many “greenie” dog treats, and they didn’t bother to scoop up the evidence on the sidewalk. This morning, looking at both the sidewalk and the car windshields, I decided that there were two other possibilities: a) the front desk manager had summoned the famous Kansas Flying Monkeys because we had slightly messed up our reservation, and b) pterodactyls are not extinct after all. But I discovered a bit later that it was a small flock of geese, who seem to be overwintering in the parking strip. They waddled around outside our room, keeping me company as I coughed and wheezed my way through the day (yukky cold, hazard of traveling). And based on the ruckus they kicked up when a huskie-type dog walked past, I wouldn’t want to mess with them.
Today would have been my Dad’s birthday, so I made this sketch for him. He and I share a love of geese. The wild goose is my spirit animal – not because I’ve ever done any exploration of the spiritual basis of such things, but just because I know it. Another interesting coincidence of this trip and his birthday is that yesterday in Dodge City, I stumbled across the handprints in cement of Dennis Weaver (if you’re old enough to remember Gunsmoke, you know him as Chester) who graduated highschool with my Dad – class size was five students!
I’ll post a new coloring page with these geese soon, but right now, time to put my cold to bed!