“It could have gotten its beak wedged in something,” John Rowden of New York City Audubon tells the Times of this Canadian goose, whom Brooklyn residents have nicknamed “Beaky” after seeing him wandering around Prospect Park, though Beakless would be more appropriate. He continued: “I don’t think one bird would get enough leverage to rip another bird’s upper beak off.”
You don’t think, John. You don’t think, but do you know? Do you really know what these creatures are capable of?
For instance, suppose that, say, one bird stood on the shoulder-wings of a second bird to get the appropriate amount of leverage necessary to grab Beaky’s beak and rip it off from on high. What about that? Or suppose the entire flock tackled this goose to the ground and held him down, each one chipping away at the face of the victim until their bloody work was done. Why would they do this, John? Silence. Because someone thought Beaky might squawk about the flock’s plans to bring down airplanes, and they wanted to make an example of him. That’s why they left him like this. Beakless, but alive, so that each sighting of his weird pink tongue would serve as a reminder that you do not cross the flock. He wasn’t always called Beaky, you know. He had a name. Guess we’ll never know what it was. He certainly can’t tell us. Thanks to those sick bastards.
Beaky, the Disabled Prospect Park Goose [City Room/NYT]
