Most nights I slept outside, except during the winter. It wasn't that I wasn't allowed inside, it's just that I couldn't stand the noise. Besides, my geese kept me plenty warm. I'm a Goose Girl, and make my living tending a flock of the feathery animals. My flock usually balanced off somewhere between forty and fifty, though right now I had a total of sixty-seven, honking, waddling little friends, sixty-eight if you counted Foie Gras, but I never did. Foie Gras was a present that I got from Nan and Pap the year before Pap died, and I loved him more than anything. Everyone in the settlement, even though it's a half day's walk away knows that the goose with the red ribbon is exempt from the slaughter house, and that was the way it was going to stay.
Getting up from the stump where I had watched them stretch and wander the yard as the sun rose high above the horizon painting the sky with pink and blue, I walked towards the house. Pain shot through my foot as I carelessly stubbed my second toe on the right on the steps, peeling the skin back just in front of the nail. I knew better than to complain though, as blood began to pool and the pain lessened to an occasional throb as I let a few swears escape under my breath, privileged that I could get away with it at the moment. I had to keep my shoes good and make them last, so I only ever wore them in winter even if they were tight.
Chalking it up to bad luck, and hoping it wasn't a forecast for the week to come I poked my head inside and hollered to Nan over the cluck, cluck, clatter of the hens. "Nan, takin' geese t' water!" Nan had been a bit hard of hearing ever since I could remember, probably why she was able to stand chickens in the house, but it had gotten worse with her heartsick when Pap died, so I hollered again.
"Fill y'r pockets with peddles, a'for you go!" she called back in her raspy, not quite awake voice. "And take some eggs with ya."
The first part was as much sound advice as it was the family motto. We'd been bird folk, chicken coopers, turkey fences, geese walkers, all around poultry farmers, for as long as anyone cared to remember. Being bird folk that meant that the predators we had to watch for were mostly small, foxes, stoats, and coyotes, things that could be scared off with a well tossed stone. The second part was because Nan knew I'd rather not eat than have any more boiled eggs. We tried to make groceries last, but they never did and what we had lots of was eggs. Chicken eggs day in, day out make my throat feel sticky and stomach knot, but I was lucky to have them all the same.
Begrudgingly doing a as I was told I filled one pocket with still warm boiled eggs that had been left on the counter, and the other with stones from outside before turning towards my flock that was already a chatter with anticipation. It was the same routine day and night, rain or shine but still, they never seemed inclined to do it themselves. Pap used to say that it was because I was head honker. I smiled, he'd never called them geese, just honkers. Taking up my long switch and clicking my tongue I tapped the gaggle together into as tight a bunch as could be mustered before moving off towards the lake which was more of a pond really, but we liked to call it one because it sounded nicer.
I'd gotten to worry about Nan lately, she'd been getting quieter, and lonesomer as time went by, and talked of Pap more and more often I thought about this as I trailed my most familiar path. She missed him. I did too. When he died Nan had sold almost everything we had just to see him buried proper. Ten of our twelve inherited acres of land, not much good for pasturing as we'd never cared for any grazing stock before so it didn't fetch quite enough. Though when she more than halved her number of chickens and added the coops too, that had finally been the sum to see Pap laid down in a smart box of wood, and also how the chickens wound up in the house. I'd offered my flock too, but Nan was terribly reasonable about it. Where chickens with their eggs and versatile meat made more in general, over the long run geese were less costly, as, if you took them to the lake, they'd feed themselves.
Our new neighbors, the ones who bought land were sheep herders, with two boys and a girl. The boys were old enough to work and so they didn't play, and of course the girl was too young to work or play and spent her time this summer carding and cleaning wool to be sent to Eight. At least they were kind. They were also our only neighbors who lived within a days walk, besides the town's folk. The rest of the surrounding area belonged to cattle herders who grazed their head here in the flat lands during the winter, so all in all I enjoyed the company. Besides Bud, the husband, he had a truck and sometimes let me and Nan ride in the back when he went to market to save us some time. It was wonderful! Nothing could quite compare to watching the world shrink and speed away from you in an angry blur of red dust! Though, apparently, it had taken quite a lot of doing and cost a pretty heavy tax to keep the thing, and keep it fueled.
Reaching the lake my flock waddled in. Now on most days in the summer I'd strip down naked, hang my frock and swim with them, but we'd reached it earlier than usual, and the water was still too cool for me, so I counted. It seemed the only thing I did was count. Pap tried to teach me once a way of putting one group of numbers with another group of numbers and make of big number in your head, for when eggs hatched, and taking one little number from one big number to make a second little number for town days when we took some of the flock in, but it just didn't take. Which left me with counting, counting each and every grey, white, brown and molted feathery head; while they walked, while they swam, and while they slept. It made me proud that no one but me could tell them apart. Except for when Foie Gras nearly met the butcher. I never had the heart to take them all the way in there and Pap was trying to be nice but apparently he when he found out about the mix up he'd made quite a scene. We were all grateful that the Peacekeepers hadn't been called out on him. It also spurred the need for Foie Gras's ribbon.
As I counted I cracked one of my eggs and peeled it, littering the shell on the ground, but that was alright, shell was good for soil Nan said. The springy white outside was always the worst so I removed it and chewed it up into a quick mash before swallowing. Next came the creamy yolk. It was good, but only for the first week, after, it was ok, but made my stomach roll.
Thinking about it asI ate, I probably wouldn't have named Foie Gras, that if I'd known it's meaning, but Pap had suggested it and by the time I found out that not only was it a Capitol word, but a Capitol word for a dish of goose liver it had already stuck.
Wind bent the reeds that lined the water's edge and a tree of birds were singing just a ways off, a near perfect day. Sitting on the river back and watching a goose paddle next to a fluffy hatchling I felt momentarily sad that I had never known my parents, but we never talked about them, so I didn't really know what there was to miss. Just the vague idea that it would have been nice to have had them around even if just for a while. Foie Gras who had made a lap about the pool of water came to sit beside me and made me giggle as he set to nibbling my ear lobe. It was an affectionate gesture they all did from time to time, but from him it somehow seemed special.
Leaning back then I watched the clouds and thought wistfully about the week to come. Reaping was in three days, which meant a night in the hotel because travel was bad at night, even with a ride in the truck. That meant a real bed, neither Nan nor I had one of those, and snuggling down next to her on springs and down pillows would be a treat, one I'd only had once before when I broke my collarbone something bad and had to go to town to have it set.
But what I looked forward to the most was the ice cream parlor. We could never afford the extravagant dessert, but every year, the children old enough to be Reaped are given a free scoop by the generous owner. Finally, this year I am old enough for the treat, my excitement was only hampered by my indecision over flavor. Chocolate, vanilla, blackberry, the list went on into strange and outlandish flavors like tootie fruity, or banana, but those costs lots extra. Then something wonderful struck me, and made me grin up at the heavens. I was going to let Nan pick the flavor and then share it, right down the middle. Maybe that would help her spirits, I really, really hoped it would.