A Game Lady

A pastoral idyll detonates into mechanized pandemonium when a coterie of self-styled gentlemen huntsmen, tipsy on hubris and bootleg gin, transform a languid afternoon of goose-shooting into a slapstick apocalypse. Coursing across golden meadows, their buckshot nicks the wing of a prize gander; the wounded bird’s furious honk becomes a klaxon that rallies every web-footed resident of the county. Feathers, dust, and curse-laden cigar smoke mingle as flivvers careen through cornrows, their cranky Model-T suspensions jouncing like jitterbug dancers. One hunter, a pomaded fop in a linen suit, commandeers a dairy truck to escape the avian avengers only to find the vehicle already occupied by a gaggle of escaped circus geese wearing diminutive tutus. Meanwhile, a bashful farmhand—smitten with the local innkeeper’s daughter—attempts to return a runaway goose to her pen, yet each chivalrous lunge lands him deeper in the crossfire of honks, klaxons, and backfiring exhaust pipes. The chase spirals through a county fair, demolishing a pie-contest tent and catapulting a blue-ribbon gooseberry flan sky-high like a sugary mortar shell. Culminating at the edge of a misty river, the pursuit collapses into a heap of dented fenders, indignant waterfowl, and mortified elites whose tweed now drips with river slime and humble pie.