#canadagoose

Happy Himbo Wells went to the park because the sun was out, his legs needed walking, and his brain had entered what he considered “premium cloud mode.”

No stress.

No schedule.

No complicated thoughts.

Just hot pink hair, a shiny hot pink HAPPY HIMBO sleeveless hoodie, matching shorts, striped socks, black-and-pink trainers, and one pink smoothie for emotional balance.

The park was perfect.

Green grass. Big trees. Blue sky. Warm breeze.

Wells took one deep breath and smiled.

“Bro,” he said softly, to no one in particular. “Outside is doing great today.”

A squirrel immediately ran across the path.

Wells stopped.

The squirrel stopped too.

They stared at each other.

Wells lifted one hand.

“Hey, little bro.”

The squirrel twitched.

Wells crouched slowly, because he understood height could be intimidating when someone had thighs like his.

“You training?”

The squirrel darted two steps, paused, then flicked its tail.

Wells nodded seriously.

“Speed work. Nice.”

The squirrel grabbed something from the grass and ran toward a tree.

Wells watched, impressed.

“Grip strength too.”

The squirrel launched up the trunk with terrifying confidence.

Wells stood there, smoothie in hand, genuinely moved.

“Park bro’s got function.”

He kept walking.

Two minutes later, he found a bunny sitting near a patch of clover.

Wells froze again.

The bunny froze harder.

Wells placed one hand over his heart.

“Oh.”

The bunny’s nose twitched.

Wells lowered his voice to a respectful whisper.

“Tiny soft bro.”

The bunny blinked.

Wells crouched at a safe distance, because he had learned boundaries (no he really hadn't though) from the fridge, Trey, and several warnings from Coach.

“You good?”

The bunny chewed.

Wells nodded.

“Valid.”

The bunny chewed again.

Wells looked down at his smoothie.

“Same, honestly.”

For a moment, they simply existed together in peaceful silence: one muscular hot pink himbo with no thoughts, one small woodland snack specialist with no obligations.

Wells smiled.

“You understand rest day.”

The bunny hopped once.

Wells gasped softly.

“Bro. Perfect form.”

The bunny hopped again and vanished into the grass.

Wells stood slowly.

“Nature is full of athletes.”

He continued down the path, feeling wise.

Then he reached the pond.

And there, standing on the grass like it owned the entire park's ecosystem, was a Canada goose.

Wells stopped.

The goose looked at him.

Wells looked at the goose.

Both were Canadian.

Only one of them looked ready to fight a cyclist.

Wells lifted a hand.

“Fellow Canadian.”

The goose honked.

Wells nodded.

“Strong opening.”

The goose took one step forward.

Wells stayed where he was.

He was happy, not foolish.

“I have a question,” Wells said.

The goose stared.

Wells pointed gently.

“Why do some people call you Cobra Chickens?”

The goose stretched its neck.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Like a feathered threat with national branding.

Wells’ eyes widened.

“Oh.”

The goose hissed.

Wells nodded faster.

“Okay. Yeah. I see it now.”

The goose flapped its wings once.

Wells took one respectful step back.

“Big cobra like neck. Chicken shape. Very Canadian. Makes sense.”

The goose honked again, louder this time.

Wells held up both hands.

“No disrespect, bro. I’m learning.”

The goose seemed to accept this.

Or maybe it was deciding whether Wells’ smoothie was a threat.

Wells pointed at himself.

“I’m Canadian too.”

The goose stared.

Wells smiled.

“Different department.”

The goose gave one final honk and turned toward the pond like the conversation had been completed by senior management.

Wells watched it go, deeply impressed.

“Bro,” he whispered. “That bird has Coach energy.”

On the walk back, Wells reviewed what he had learned.

Squirrels were speed bros.

Bunnies were rest bros.

Geese were command and coaching staff.

The park was not just a park.

It was an athletics centre with trees.

By the time Wells reached the gate, his shoes had grass on them, and his brain had logged exactly one new doctrine:

Respect nature.

Especially when nature hisses.

Happy Himbo Wells smiled into the sunshine.

Outside had done great.

The animals had done great.

And somewhere by the pond, a Cobra Chicken guarded it with excellent posture and Canadian Pride.

PARENTAL SUPERVISION - Composition Thursday

Okay, one of my Patrons asked me to doodle a Canada Goose - *Canada* Goose - since when is it called that? 😂😅 I’ve been calling these Canadian Geese my whole life. But apparently, the "correct" name is Canada Goose. So now I have to know… what do YOU call them? A) Canada Goose or B) Canadian Goose?