"Angels we have heard on high
Sweetly singing o'er the plain
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strain
Gloria, in excelsis Deo!"
In the past few weeks, while searching each night for signs of migratory geese from the north, I have also been listening to much Christmas music.
I am not sure why these two activities should go hand in hand, but for some inexplicable reason in my life, they do.
But, as noted previously, sightings of migratory geese have been few and far between.
I can't say that I have actually seen any migratory geese at all. The mostly small gaggles of geese flying in and out of Harlem Meer over the past few months are speculated to be mostly former resident geese of Central Park.
Last night was different, however.
But, more about that later..........
Several recent outdoors articles posted on Call of the Canada Geese FB page Call of the Canada Geese page have noted either lower populations of Canada geese observed or speculated that the geese are migrating later this year due to climate change.
While not to discount the impacts of warmer temperatures in the North East and their influence on wildlife behavior and life patterns, I have worried that our never ending "war" on Canada geese has seriously decimated their numbers.
Even has I write this, lethal assaults are occurring on migrating geese throughout the country in the form of hunting.
A article just published today from Danube, Minnesota describes the death of a 19-year-old young man who was "goose hunting" with his buddies. (Apparently, one of the guns went off accidentally): http://www.wctrib.com/event/article/id/87852/group/homepage/
One should morally feel sad over the death of any human, particularly one so young.
But, personally I don't feel much worse over the death of a human hunter, than I do the millions of animals killed everyday for whatever label we want to stick on it.
Sometimes, whether a bullfighter getting gored by a bull or a hunter accidentally shot by another hunter, we get back some of what we are dishing out in life.
Perhaps there really is a kind of universal justice? (Albeit a sometimes harsh mistress.)
In any event, being aware of the "expanded hunting" occurring all over against the geese, I have worried about the geese actually escaping the bullets and making it to their winter destinations.
When they do, it is something to behold:
Returning to Christmas music:
From a young child, I have always loved the spirit of Christmas, and particularly its music.
Once, when I was eight-years-old, I was assigned the role of the angel in a school Christmas play and was supposed to sing, "O Come All Ye Faithful."
I was ecstatic with joy and pride and practiced diligently the carol, both in English and Latin.
But, my mom forgot to take in my angel costume to properly fit and at the last minute, I was replaced.
One of the minor "traumatic" incidents of childhood, one could say, but it did not dampen my love for the music or belief in the spirit and ideals of Christmas.
That said, I am not one to pound stores in search of presents and have yet to write out Christmas cards. Indeed, I don't seem even to care about holiday get-togethers or celebrations.
To me, Christmas is not about presents, parties, desires, giving, receiving or "All I Want for Christmas is You."
I actually dislike most of the pop songs associated with the time of year.
But, I do so love the carols!
Over the past few days, the carol that has most been resonating is, "We Three Kings."
"Star of wonder
Star of night
Star of royal beauty bright
Westward leading
Still proceeding
Guide us to thy perfect light."
I must have listened to this carol a hundred times over the past few days.
And each time, it whelmed the senses with a colophony of feelings that are hard to describe. -- Some sad, some celebratory, some searching and some majestic.
The carol was playing (along with others) though my headphones last night when heading with my dogs to Harlem Meer.
The night was cold, slightly overcast and extremely quiet in Central Park. Nary a jogger or cyclist stirred during the one mile walk to the Meer.
But, one could make out a few stars glittering high in the skies above.
Arriving to the Meer, I expected that due to the sub-freezing temperatures of the last couple of days, the lake might start to be freezing over.
That assumption is correct. Some of the outer layers are beginning to ice over. But, not as much as one might suppose.
That is probably because there were many waterfowl on the Meer last night.
As usual, Buster and his group of 6 mostly young geese immediately made their way to me, as did the regular bunch of mallards and Brad.
Seemingly missing were the new members of alliances formed the previous night among Brad and Buster's gaggle of geese.
But, that was not too surprising.
Alliances made among waterfowl in the early going are not yet set in stone.
That doesn't usually occur until the water is almost entirely frozen and most of the mallards and other flying waterfowl leave.
But, last night there was much waterfowl activity on the Meer with the birds seemingly scattered all over the mostly still unfrozen lake.
Another thing a little unusual last night was that several of the ducks and geese squatted down while nibbling at the seeds on the ground. I wondered if this had something to do with the suddenly much colder temperatures and was it a way to conserve body heat?
Neither the geese nor mallards answered the question.
One of Buster's charges bravely attempted to eat from my hand last night. But, I am guessing because of the cautious, hesitant ways, the goose was a girl. Her mouth was rough and inexperienced in eating from human hands.
Perhaps hand feeding is not a good thing to encourage anyway in the other geese. Its actually better for them to stay wary and "dumb" in this way, considering the "aggressive" complaints of other humans.
Brad was particularly ravenous and greedy last night. For sure, he is highly aware of the challenges ahead and the need to "fatten up" as much as possible while the opportunity is there.
As noted, Brad is an extremely shrewd duck and that is exactly why he has survived for at least several years at the Meer. It's especially remarkable considering Brad can only fly a few feet off the ground and cannot, like the mallards, simply take off when the going gets rough or the lake entirely freezes over.
While administering to my familiar feathered friends of the Meer with Christmas carols softly humming in the background, suddenly a chorus of real sounds erupted, emanating from the other side of the lake:
It was the honks from what sounded like dozens of geese either arriving to or departing from the Meer!
The sounds were coming from the West side of the lake. But, due to the darkness of the night and twists in the terrain, I could not actually see flying geese, but could hear them loud and clear.
Oh my God, it sounds like they are arriving!
The chorus of honks went on for several minutes. Lots of them! Animated conversation or song going back and forth like some glorious Christmas choir!
I had never heard such colophony of goose communication in all the years of going to Central Park. I could not tell exactly how many geese there were, but there had to be dozens of them from the different directions the honks were coming and the sheer number of them!
After assuring that my troupe of mallards and 7 geese were satiated for the evening, I decided to walk to the west side of the Meer to get a look of what had actually just occurred.
Sure enough, there were at least 30-40 geese resting and scattered in the middle of the still unfrozen water!
And yes, they were still talking back and forth to each other from across and around the lake!
I am sure that my mouth must have dropped open in the sheer wonder and seeming miracle of it.
There was no doubt that these were finally the migratory geese making their first wave to the big city!
Were they discussing and celebrating the long journey they had just accomplished?
Were they planning the next leg of the journey?
Or, were they singing Christmas carols?
These things, I of course, could not know.
But, what I wouldn't have given to be there at the actual moment they arrived from the far north and descended like twinkling stardust upon the lake!
Nevertheless, I had been blessed to hear them.
"Angels we have heard on high
Singing out a lullaby....."
And as I began to leave the Meer last night, I could still hear the celebration and planning in their voices...
"Star of wonder
Star of night
Star of royal beauty bright
Westward leading
Still proceeding
Guide us to thy perfect light."
Oh, glad tidings of comfort and joy!
I close this entry today with a Youtube video from Bare Naked Ladies and Sarah McLaughlin singing together, two of my favorite carols:
Perhaps there is reason for that.
My wish and prayer this Christmas is that the star of wonder and star of night, guide these peaceful migrating minstrals to places of safety and light. -- PCA
*****
No comments:
Post a Comment