The dogs thought it was time for human interaction. The ganders thought that the human ought to stop all that interaction. With one hand trying to set down a previously lost goose, the other hand trying to keep the dogs at bay, and one leg trying to keep the pissed-off protective ganders back (who thought I was manhandling one of their lady-loves), the human had only one leg to stand on, and lost. Miserably.
Pics of the bruises after I, uh, shave my legs.
[pic: Billy-Bob, one of the #@$!! protective ganders]