Life Restored

Following the stunning news of my next door neighbor's death yesterday, (see previous entry) I looked forward to Central Park last night.  Perhaps more as means of temporarily escaping morbid thoughts of regret and denial than anything else.

 

Indeed, the mood was somber when entering the park.

 

But, walking along the darkened Reservoir, my gaze suddenly fell on what appeared to be bird forms far off in the water.

 

At first I thought, "ducks," but the shadows appeared bigger than what would be expected with mallards.

 

A closer look and I could make out long dark necks silhouetted against the backdrop of city lights. 

 

Seven Canada geese gliding slowly in a perfectly straight line similar to what a family of geese normally swims in the water.

 

Oh my God....they're here!  Some of the migratory geese have finally made it through the hail of bullets!

 

(Yes, I unfortunately always consider the stresses of hunting when noting migratory geese that miraculously make it to the temporary safety of Central Park in spring or fall.)

 

I stood for a few moments relishing the beautiful and tranquil sight far off in the distance.

 

Yes, there is still hope left in the world. Nature finds way to prevail, despite everything.

 

Feeling spiritually lifted after seeing what were the first geese on the Reservoir since the summer, I continued on the journey to Harlem Meer thinking about the scene just witnessed.

 

I was quite sure the Reservoir geese were migratory as opposed to "resident" for the simple reason that resident geese typically gather at Harlem Meer in the fall.  

 

By contrast, migratory geese usually land at the Reservoir as the famous landmark named after Jackie O rarely freezes entirely over in winter and thus attracts migratory ducks and geese.   Sometimes migratory geese also take brief rest stops at the Great Lawn or North Meadow in Central Park and occasionally one sees a few drop by at Harlem Meer over the winter (provided there is any open water).

 

The first sighting of migratory geese in the park is, to me, sure and actual sign of seasonal change and flow, even though "fall" was officially marked on the calendar weeks ago.

 

Central Park was, last night, resumed to the normal activities of jogging and cycling that had been notably missing over the past few days due to Sunday's marathon.

 

More runners, more cyclists, more police patrols.

 

Perhaps it was due to greater human activities, that I didn't see the family of raccoons that I had gotten spoiled in seeing for the past 4 nights in a row.

 

But, Brad and the mallards were in their usual spots at Harlem Meer and came to greet me routinely.  I knew immediately that no geese were at the Meer because all of the ducks were in the water when I arrived.  (When geese are present, many of the ducks will daringly camp out along the grassy embankments.)

 

Similar to the park drives, Harlem Meer was noisier and more active last night than the previous few nights.

 

Dogs running around and barking on the other side of the lake, some people walking about, sirens in the distance.

 

For some reason too, the ducks were more "normal."

 

Not quite so easily spooked, the resident mallards at Harlem Meer are apparently so used to noise and human activity that it seems if things are too quiet, they freak out with the "abnormalness" of it and bolt at nothing (especially with no geese around).

 

Last night, the ducks weren't bolting.  If anything, some of the drakes seemed somewhat embolden by the flurry of activities and bullied up a bit on other ducks, particularly females.

 

I have always maintained that geese represent the qualities that humans should aspire to, whereas ducks represent what most humans actually are.

 

There is a lot of hierarchy, feather pecking and "oneupsmanship" among mallards. It seems too that the most loquacious and conversational mallards are the ones who are usually at the top of sphere. -  The loud ones "rule," so to speak, the rest.

 

I remember how Brad and Angelina used to be the loudest and most talkative ducks of the entire Meer. Their mouths always going, it seemed neither one was ever at loss for "words."

 

But, these days -- months after Angelina's mysterious disappearance  -- Brad barely "talks" at all.

 

In fact, the only times I have seen Brad actually chirping and chattering is when geese are at the Meer.  But, that is, (as noted) extremely rare in recent months.

 

I feel bad for Brad for this reason.

 

Although bigger and more "street wise" than the mallards, Brad's duck "status" has greatly been diminished since the loss of Angelina.

 

He is indeed, the "lone duck" at the Meer.  And aloneness doesn't seem to rate in either the mallard or geese communities.

 

Finally tossing the last of the treats to Brad and pals, I left the Meer with the ducks comically following.

 

I sometimes wonder if this departing gesture is as sweet and endearing as it seems or whether the ducks are simply demanding more treats?

 

But, actually I do believe it to be the former.  I know for a fact, Brad isn't hungry when following me to bid goodnight.

 

Walking home by way of the Reservoir again, I peered into the water and was surprised to see the geese once more.

 

But, this time the 7 migratory geese were casually swimming in the opposite direction.

 

But, in the same beautiful and perfectly symmetrical, straight line.

 

Ah, the first sighting of migratory geese in the park!

 

The sure and actual sign of seasonal change and flow, as well as the ebbs of death and life renewed.

 

How ironic that this lovely image and proof of life restored occurred on a day of otherwise loss and regret. -- PCA

 

 

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