TENSIONS are running high at Rowntree Park. Having read with interest the renewed debate over the Canadian colonisation of York, we took to the park at the weekend to take a gander at the geese.

It was the Titley flock's first visit for some weeks, and we were in for a shock. The wildfowl have taken over. Scores of the great honkers were goose-stepping around the lake as if they owned it, and while we were there another large squadron touched down.

As a result, whole swathes of the park are blanketed in droppings. Our kickabout saw a shiny white football immediately smeared greenie-brown, with the goalie making heroic dives to get out of the way. Both children were soon daubed with the stuff. Yuk.

Being under goose occupation has obviously become too much for some park-goers. After abandoning our game of poo-ball, we went to feed the ducks. We strolled half the length of the lake to locate a party of mallards, in a vain attempt to avoid catching the beady eyes of the Canada geese.

Despite these efforts, one man who was clearly the Supreme Ruler Of The Park (self-appointed) bellowed at us "Don't Feed The Geese!!" with such ferocity that our children's enjoyment of this timeless pastime was as tarnished as their trousers.

Yet we ploughed on with the sort of courage that merits a mention in despatches.

Although soon surrounded and outnumbered by geese, we remained to ensure supplies reached the besieged natives, who bravely quacked their thanks. While two of my company selflessly aimed the white sliced duck-wards, I sought to keep the bigger birds at bay with Flintoff-like swipes of a kiddie cricket bat.

We eventually had to retreat under a relentless volley of honks, but we did so confident that the enemy received no succour.

During the mission, our unattended football rolled into the water and drifted downstream. Our thanks go to the York Model Boat Club who rallied their impressive remote controlled fleet to rescue it.

Here, of course, we have the solution. The geese may have aerial dominance, but no species is a match for British naval power.

In this bicentenary year of Trafalgar, we should summon up the spirit of Lord Nelson. Fit the York model ships with lake-to-air goose-seeking missiles, and we'll soon see off these fowl invaders in a cloud of fireworks and feathers.

HOW'S this for a good news/bad news story?

A York woman who enjoys a flutter picked out five horses last Thursday, and punted £2 on each in a Walmgate bookies.

Forget studying form, this mother-of-two's method is to choose names that mean something to her. So she opted for Humungous (a word she often uses, which had odds of 12-1), Spanish Blue (5-1), Sachsenwalzer (11-2), Arm & A Leg (10-1) and Silken Sky (7-1).

Imagine her delight when all five romped home as winners, and she won well over a hundred quid.

Now comes the bad news: friends worked out that if she had put the £2 bet on an accumulator, she would have pocketed £89,232; and a tenner applied the same way would have reaped no less than £446,160.

If there is a horse called "Oh Bugger" running this week, she is sure to back it.

Updated: 11:16 Tuesday, August 30, 2005