Now I know that's an odd choice of adjective, and I have not in the past thought of the goose as a nobel animal. But something in its stillness... in the straightness of its stance... in the intensity of its gaze... it caught my attention and my approval. It stared ahead and beyond my car. I smiled thoughtfully, and I turned my eyes back to the road.
Flying directly at my car was a second goose. I think it must have been as distracted as I, because it back-winged with what distinctly struck me as a startled expression. There was a great flapping of wings and wobbling as it leaned backwards and tried to get enough height to go over my car. I ducked reflexively. Through my windshield I saw the underside of a flying goose in much more detail than I ever had before. Its tail-feathers and wings were spread wide, and its feet dangled uselessly as it managed to get just enough lift to swing them over the top of my car.
I drove away from the two geese, reflecting that now I probably knew what the first goose had been watching for, its mate, and feeling relieved that all three of us came out of the experience unscathed.