Signs

"Sign, sign, everywhere a sign

Looking at the scenery, blowing my mind

Do this! Don't do that!

Can't you read the sign?"

 

Living on Manhattan's Upper East Side, one cannot step out the door and not encounter a thousand signs on one block.

 

But, I don't really read the signs.

 

But, there are some signs I actually believe in......

 

Last night, when leaving for Harlem Meer to check on Brad and the regular troupe of mallards, the mood was glum and pessimistic.

 

The upcoming goose slaughter at Burns Park (North Little Rock) was on my mind, as well as the fact it was my birthday and I hadn't yet heard from my daughter in Utah.  (Yes, as both woman and mother, these things are more important than what logically should be.)

 

Additionally, since Central Park installed a Christmas tree on the water at Harlem Meer more than a week ago, the couple of dozen geese who had been there, vanished not to be seen again.

 

Although I saw four other geese on the lake since that time, they were apparently migratory birds who were extremely wary and shy of people.

 

I did not see any geese at all on Wednesday afternoon at the Meer.

 

And so, not expecting anything unusual (or any geese),  I did not bring my camera last night to the Meer.  

 

The goal was simply to insure Brad was OK and provide him with nightly treats.

 

But, arriving to Harlem Meer, I could immediately see from the hill, several geese stationed in the water, almost as if waiting for me!

 

Wow, glory be!  GEESIES!

 

At first, I figured they were probably the four shy and elusive migratory birds that had been seen a couple of times over the past week.

 

But, as soon as I descended the hill and began to walk towards the area I normally feed Brad and his mallard pals, the geese recognized and followed me like trained dogs!

 

No sooner had I parked my own two dogs by the familiar park bench, did all seven geese hop on the embankment and saunter over to me!

 

As soon as the one huge gander poked his beak towards my hand brazenly beseeching a treat, I recognized the gaggle as "Buster" and his bunch of six resident Harlem Meer geese returned.

 

I am not sure, in fact, if this group of six or sometimes seven geese are actually one family or rather, a gaggle of convenience and hangers-on.   Buster has such dominance and assertiveness towards the others I believe it to be more the latter.

 

(Remembering how "Papa goose" of the Turtle Pond goose family always hung back and protectively watched while the rest of his family ate from my hand, but noting the exact opposite from Buster and his troop, I believe him to be simply the "alpha" of an otherwise random gaggle that look to him for protection and leadership.)

 

So self-assured and confident is Buster, he nudged my jacket when I dared to toss treats to the other birds!  Indeed, the only bird he was willing to share hand treats with last night, was Brad, the Rouen duck. 

 

Then again, I warned Buster not to mess with Brad -- and as previously noted, I do believe geese understand and even communicate in English!

 

"I am the leader of this troupe of geese and I have to be the strong and hearty one!"  I could swear I have heard Buster saying.

 

And indeed, to give Buster due credit, his gaggle appear to be among the heartiest and most robust geese seen.   No lame geese, no fishing lines wrapped around legs and no missing webbing on feet.

 

Buster may be tough and authoritarian, but he keeps his gaggle safe and strong and that is the main thing.  It also possibly explains why none of the other geese ever challenge Buster.   When Buster says, "move!" they move!

 

I did try to have a "talk" with Buster last night about his behavior:

 

"You know, Buster, you'd better not go around like this poking at other people. This is how geese get the reputation for 'attacking' and 'being aggressive.'  It doesn't help your buddies!"

 

"I know what I'm doing and who our friends are.  You need not worry."  Buster smiled assuredly.

 

OK.  So, I won't worry -- at least not for Buster and his trusting hangers-on.

 

The geese after all, apparently know better than I do.

 

But, what I cannot get over is, how did Buster and pals know it was my birthday yesterday?

 

And why were they seemingly waiting for me?

 

Walking home from this strange, but exhilarating encounter last night, I thought about "signs."

 

I remembered back to what undoubtedly is the worst day in modern American history: 9-11.

 

Such a terrible and unspeakable time in New York City then.

 

All of us shocked, traumatized, walled off like "sitting ducks" and not knowing what to expect.

 

I remember commiserating with other dogs owners in Central Park that night as we smelled the strange fumes in the air and noted the eerie silence in the skies above us as no planes flew in or out of the city.

 

But, nothing could bring comfort or any feelings of safety or security on a day that had wreaked such wide scale death, destruction and horror to our great city.-- That is, until I later walked over to the Jackie Onassis Reservoir and stood for a long while watching the ducks and geese swimming peacefully and unconcerned in the water.

 

And it was then I thought, "It is going to be OK.  We are going to get through this. The geese and ducks say it will be OK."

 

The birds on the water so tranquil that night,  gave assurance and "sign" to me that despite the mayhem and carnage happening all around, normalcy was still reachable and still there.

 

I never felt greatly frightened after that. 

 

A feeling of safety and hope had returned, thanks to the geese and ducks resting peacefully on the water.

 

And though I don't recall consciously thinking then that I felt indebted to the geese and ducks for this new found sense of resiliance, I believe the feeling settled somewhere in the sub or unconscious mind:

 

As they helped me, I will forever be there to help them as I can.

 

"Signs, signs, everywhere a sign."

 

Like 9-11, I felt invigorated, renewed and hopeful last night walking home from Central Park after the unexpected encounter with the geese on what is special and personal day.

 

Was it once again a "sign?"

 

When arriving home, there was a message on my answering machine.

"Hi Mom.....Thinking about you......I hope you are having a wonderful birthday."

 

Yes, Buster and his troupe were a sign. 

 

And for the first time all day, I finally felt like celebrating.  -- PCA

 

 

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