"My cup runneth over!"
That was the thought last night when returning to Harlem Meer and shockingly finding what is guessed to be some of the former resident geese who regularly stayed at the Meer during past falls and springs.
When first arriving and not immediately seeing waterfowl from the west side of the lake, I was a bit concerned.
But, figuring that the mallards were probably gathered towards the eastern portions of Meer, I walked around path curves.
Sure enough, there was a large cluster of mallards lazily swimming around in a kind of circle.
But, in the middle of the circle were geese!
And not just the usual and singular family of four or five pitiful geese that I've become accustomed to seeing sporadically over the past three months, but at least a dozen geesies!
Not believing my eyes, I wondered if such a "large" gaggle suddenly arriving might be migratory?
But, I eliminated that speculation when one of the families of five geese began to swim in my direction.
It was apparent that they recognized both my dogs and me!
"Where have you guys been hiding all these months?" I asked, knowing that geese don't understand English.
The five geese looked at me and one of them mumbled a low honk greeting as they casually approached the grassy embankment.
I tossed a few treats on the edge of the bank to the geese, but then noticed Brad, the flightless Rouen duck peering at me from a few feet away.
"What about me?"
OK, first things first....
I was there, after all, to look after Brad and his mallard pals.
Brad (for some unknown reason) will only embark on the open lake embankment further west.
So, as usual, I motioned to him with my hand and began to walk in that direction.
Brad gathered up the regular troupe of about eight mallards and they all followed me.
We went to the usual location and Brad bounded up cheerfully on the grass and took his treats from my hand.
His mallard buddies (of convenience) also trotted up on the grass and nibbled at whatever fell to the ground.
After a while, Brad had his fill of treats and walked to the lake's edge.
And then, for at least 30 seconds, Brad enthusiastically flapped his flightless wings as if preparing to fly.
This scene always makes me chuckle. And yet, it is sad in a way, because Brad of course, can never actually fly.
I often wonder what it is like for Brad, who being a duck himself, is surrounded by ducks and other waterfowl who can --and routinely -- fly?
Brad realizes obviously he is "different" and at least in previous years, he had Angelina (also a domestic Rouen duck) who was his constant flightless companion. But, since her mysterious disappearance (and presumed death) this past spring, there are no other flightless birds at the Meer to my knowledge.
I worry of course for Brad when the harshness of the winter sets in and the Meer freezes over. Most of the mallards will leave as they are opportunistic birds who cleverly find whatever open water exists in the park (usually the Reservoir in winter).
Can Brad ultimately be successful in enticing any of his "troupe" to stay at the Meer through the winter?
That is a question yet to be answered.....
Finally satisfied last night that Brad and the troupe had their fill, I gathered my dogs and headed back to where the geese were.
I had saved just enough treat to share with the family of five geese who had greeted me a few minutes before.
Sure enough, the same five geese recognized and approached me again. This time, two of the geese confidently hopped up on the embankment, along with a couple of mallards.
The two geese ate from my hand -- though a bit rough at first.
"Hey, gentle! Don't take my finger!"
They were obviously not the Turtle Pond goose family, though quickly (like geese do) learn.
After a couple of seconds, the two geese were much more relaxed and soft in the mouths.
(Maybe they do understand English?)
Just then, a man passed by with a black German Shepherd mix dog.
One of my dogs, Chance (my Pomeranian) jumped out protectively barking at the Shepherd.
The shepherd didn't react and nor strangely did the geese! (The mallards quickly jumped back in the water.)
Obviously these five geese were very accustomed to Harlem Meer and had to be part of the resident geese who once used to live there.
Meanwhile, the other seven or eight geese that the family apparently arrived with remained in the water and casually observed everything from a safe distance.
I am not sure if in fact they were former resident Harlem Meer geese or just a family or two that the resident five hooked up with along the way.
The "along the way" is, of course, what is really questionable.
Where were the resident Central Park geese hiding out all these months?
I have no idea where they were during all this time (including the Turtle Pond family that returned back to the Boat Lake recently).
I had worried that most of the geese had been "hazed" from Central Park and ended up being rounded up and killed from other parts of the city this past summer.
That still might unfortunately be true for many of the geese who used call Central Park their home in recent years.
But, thank God, it is obviously not true for all.
Walking home from the Meer last night, I wondered if the geese, sensing a "target" on their heads, cleverly found some off-beat hiding place to safely keep themselves out of danger and relatively free from harassment?
Figuring that the geese really DO understand English, the speculation looms as real possibility.
It wouldn't surprise if the geese actually do secretly read the New York Times everyday during those times we don't see them.
They are really not the "silly" geese or "dumb animals" we assume them to be.
Those low honk greetings actually mean something -- as do all the other verbal and body communications that geese and ducks routinely use.
Included among them, perhaps, the ability to understand English? -- PCA
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