Trying to save a goose is like trying to rope the rain

For the love of god.

So I went out to get lunch about an hour ago now. I went to Boston Market. I pass this one building and there's a goose standing there really still. I slow down and it appears that the goose's wing is broken. So I drive all the way around on the way back to see if it's still there. It was.
I get back and Gail called Southfield City services or some shit to see who to call. I get some number for the Wildlife division of the Michigan Humane Society. I finally get through to someone over there and they tell me I'd have to bring the goose in. Yeah--that's going to happen. They tell me to call DNR.

DNR gives me three numbers and an internet list of registered rehabilitators and the number for Oakland County Animal Control. I call the DNR numbers. No one takes geese. At least not anyone that answers. Twelve numbers or so later I decide to call the animal control number. I got put on hold forever.

I hung up and found a number online for some regional office for the DNR. I call them and get some "due to reduced staffing levels no one is answering the phones" message and leave a message. At that point I looked down at my cold lunch and realized I was eating chicken. And suddenly it didn't taste good anymore.
I've done everything possible to save this damn goose. I guess I got a throw a sheet down in the neon and put a goose in back and drive it to Rochester. NOT. That's not going to happen in this lifetime. I need to stop being such a bleeding heart.