Westhampton Lake at University of Richmond.

By Keaton Rahman

In the beginning of the summer, on a cloudless Saturday afternoon, I strolled innocently down the goose excrement-covered pathway next to Westhampton Lake at the University of Richmond (UR). With me, I had the first Harry Potter book, ready to dedicate the coming weeks to re-reading the entire series for the 50th time. Blissfully unaware of my surroundings, I approached the red patio chair in the shade, ready to settle down and enjoy a few hours of peace and quiet. That’s when I heard him, my soon-to-be frenemy, Dan. His obnoxiously loud squawk echoed in my ears, and I whipped my body around to see him. His beady eyes bore into my soul. I shuddered in fear. Thus began the summer of Keaton and Dan the goose. 

A row of Dan’s duck friends along the lake.

I’ve never liked birds. I think it’s unnatural that they can fly, and I’m pretty sure that they could take over the human race if they wanted to. These reasons, along with my mom’s fear of birds, is where my fear of Dan stemmed from. I named him Dan in my failed attempt to become his friend.

After Dan and I met that very first day, we had a long summer together. I would go over to UR about twice a week to read any book I could get my hands on, including re-reading Percy Jackson and fully immersing myself into my third grade Greek mythology phase. Every time I walked over to the same chair, covered with the perfect amount of shade, Dan would be lurking, somewhere. In the beginning of the summer, Dan and his other duck and goose friends would creep towards my chair, and I would promptly leap out of where I was sitting and move to sit in the blistering sun, just to avoid facing Dan and his gang. Embarrassingly enough, this trend of Dan causing me to move seats happened for quite awhile, as I had heard stories of geese attacking people, and I really did not want that to be my fate. 

About halfway through the summer, I decided my fear of Dan needed to be put to rest. He could not control me anymore. I needed to face my phobias. I walked to UR with a change in mentality, and was ready to tell Dan, “Enough is enough.” I had confidence and an iced coffee fueling me. I strode over to my usual seat, placed my belongings down, and began to read my book. Until I heard him. 

The usual red patio chairs.

My internal dialogue was running rampant: “I must stay strong… He is just a goose, he can’t hurt you… Well, yes, he can, but you have to stand your ground.” I saw Dan approaching, his usual gang of several ducks right on his tail. His bright orange beak stood out against his white feathers, his black beady eyes darker than night, his strange-ugly looking feet waddled toward me. 

This was the end for me, I thought, as I was going to be killed by a goose. 

But then Dan did the unexpected. As he came to the front of my chair, he waddled down to the edge of the lake and sat there peacefully, accompanied by his friends. 

From that moment on, I was never scared that he was going to attack me. The rest of our summer together was peaceful. When the college students returned, and school started back up for me, I stopped going to my spot under the trees, and I stopped seeing Dan.

I recently returned to UR to take pictures for this article, and Dan was nowhere to be found. I searched around for a bit, looking for my former enemy, and came up empty. My disappointment in not seeing Dan was evident as I located his former duck possé and took pictures of them. I tried to ask the ducks where Dan was, but ducks do not talk. Did Dan go farther south? Did he switch lakes? I wonder if he misses me. When the weather gets warmer, and UR begins to clear out, I’ll make my way back onto the campus to experience new books in front of a beautiful lake and a hoard of birds, which hopefully will include my new friend Dan.

All photos by Keaton Rahman.