It should’ve been a gorgeous day. It was warm, but not too warm; the first years had settled in, the upperclassmen were moving back; Sharples may or may not have had deep-dish pizza, and campus construction seemed somewhat less invasive; professors were opening long-shut windows and dusting off desks. It was the first day of fall classes. And Carl Friedrich Goose was gone.
For those poor ignominious souls who have not yet had the opportunity to acquaint themselves with Carl, he was most recently located in the lower level of the Science Center, where he was stalwart in his position as Marketing Manager for the physics and astronomy department.
When he was taken, Carl was wearing a festive Hawaiian shirt, as reported by Amy Graves, physics and astronomy-physics professor emerita. Upon being asked about the details pertaining to his vanishing, Graves was unsure of the specifics.
“I hesitate to speculate on why he disappeared,” she said. “It was not a very secure spot for him, but it is Swarthmore after all.”
Carl started his career in 2011 as a Marketing Assistant operating out of the department’s Student Living Room. He was often flaunting some kind of costume: wings poking out of a dinosaur ensemble, or that of a wizard, or maybe a clown costume during Midterms. He liked to make people laugh. He often said that was half of the job in marketing, especially among those astrophysicists, always so burdened with dark energy or nebulous problems.
When the Student Living Room was renovated, Carl’s office was relocated to the Science Center, where he brought a spot of brightness to the lower level. Graves reports having cherished his presence and his myriad costumes, and she hopes that others did too. Though he became somewhat of a recluse in later years, he would always show up for special occasions like the annual holiday party, where he would consume record amounts of eggnog and turn into somewhat of a quack by the end of the night.
His disappearance marks an unforeseen and unspeakably grave turn of events. It is still difficult to determine whether his absence is voluntary or if there have been devious forces at work.
When The Phoenix questioned the student body about his disappearance, it became clear that his disappearance had not gone without notice. Many were surprised to see the “Lost goose” post appear on the Dash the morning of Oct. 2, expressing a palpable sense of loss for poor Carl. When reflecting on the infamous goose on the loose, one student’s passion resonated with that of so many others.
“Carl Friedrich Goose was the lifeblood of the physics department,” said Eric Bromberg ’26, describing the goose’s absence as “absolutely devastating.” Bromberg noted the power of Carl in unifying and motivating the department, especially due to the relatively small size of the physics community here at Swarthmore.
He said, “I think we’re all feeling a little lost, a little worried, a little anxious about the future, and I’m not sure that physics can continue happening until Carl is returned.”
Graves, as a representative of the department, calls for his recovery. “If someone did take him, I sincerely hope that good impulses prevail and he is returned,” she said.
Bromberg similarly wishes for the safe retrieval of our “beloved goose,” asking for those who know anything to share new information.
Though his current location may be unknown, Carl remains a staunch Swarthmore employee, radiating school spirit from wherever he may be: Crum Creek or by Terry Shane Garden, resting on a roof or revealing a solitary wing between the treetops, doing his best to fly back to us — back home. Those close to Carl only hope that this wild goose chase will soon come to a close.
