It is a truth universally acknowledged that any animal capable of hissing is automatically 10 times more scary.

Case in point.

The geese on campus at CU are no exception to this. Made up of one part feathers and two parts unbridled bird rage, these little suckers are a molotov cocktail with a beak.

Living in Kittredge, but a stone’s throw from the main goose headquarters has given me an excellent opportunity to observe these savage beasts in their natural habitat. Unfortunately, I must never stray outside least I am sighted and destroyed. It has been a hard sacrifice, but nonetheless one I am willing to make in the interest of discovery.

Most likely the direct descendants of the aliens from Ridley Scott’s 1979 sci-fi horror masterpiece, "Alien," the geese exist solely to terrorize pedestrians and poop everywhere.

See the family resemblance?

Like their mutant, acid-spitting, extraterrestrial ancestors, the campus geese have an insatiable craving for human flesh. They will stop at nothing until the human race has been exterminated.

Despite the fact that they are clearly capable of flying, the geese spend most of their time standing around in major walkways. If they do move it is usually to walk five feet to the left or right to pick on something small and innocent looking. The geese are in fact so hostile and aggressive that they will fight each other when no other target presents itself.

Traveling in roving death squads, they prowl campus looking for unsuspecting victims. No prey is too large or intimidating. As soon as a target has crossed their path they hone in on it with the deadly accuracy of a heat seeking missile. If a goose tries to approach you, run, do not stand your ground, do not look back, just run, it is the only way.

Unfortunately, confrontation cannot always be avoided. Maybe you are late for class and the flock has settled across the sidewalk, or maybe you are just really, really stupid. Whatever the reason you find yourself facing down a pack of animals who are just a few genetic mutations away from being velociraptors.

An encounter with the flock usually goes something like this. You are out on a casual stroll on campus minding your own business when you see a flock of geese standing on the sidewalk. No matter, you think as you continue in your merry way, but as you draw closer, you realize that something is wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle, and for no discernible reason you start to feel a deep sense of dread gather in the pit of your stomach. Ignoring your body’s warning signs you press onward. You are mere feet from the flock when it happens, as one they turn and look at you. In that instant you know exactly what a gazelle feels like the moment before a lion deals it the deathblow. They begin to stir you suppress the primal urge to run, you take one final, fatal step. Big mistake, with that step the whole flock erupts into a cloud of feathers and hissing. If you are not running and crying at this point you have no hope of survival.