(Photos: 1-- "Chrissy," a lame duck who miraculously endures. 2-- # 7 last night sharing treats with the mallards.)
Last night at Harlem Meer was the near reversal of the previous night.
When first arriving at the lake, the Bradly Brigade and the mallards were in the usual spot in the water seemingly "waiting" for me.
But where was Buster and the gang, I wondered?
Peering out over the water, I could not immediately see any geese. And while tempted to walk around the lake to look for Buster and his crew, Brad, Piggly, Wiggly and the other ducks immediately nixed that idea.
They were all on the embankment demanding their daily treat.
Not to deny my "duckies" I immediately pulled seeds out of my bag and began tossing to the mallards and hand-feeding Brad. Wiggly, under my feet, quickly scooped up treats that escaped Brad and Piggly dashed around quickly grabbing most of what was tossed.
Among the ducks scrambling around my feet was a familiar female mallard who I have noticed since last summer.
I never mentioned her before because, like Piggly, I did not think this mallard had a snow ball's chance in hell of surviving.
That is because the duck I have now named "Chrissy" is severely crippled.
I am not sure what is wrong with Chrissy's legs. There is no fishing line around them and they don't appear broken.
But, she is unable to walk normally and instead "hops" almost like a rabbit and has tendency to flop down on her belly.
I don't see Chrissy every night. In fact, there have been weeks when I didn't see her at all and presumed she had long ago perished.
But, lately I see Chrissy almost every night.
She now recognizes me and is usually among the last of the ducks to pull herself up on the embankment.
She looks at me pitifully as if to plede special attention.
Of course my heart melts when seeing Chrissy and I always try to toss treats directly in front of her so she doesn't have to hobble around.
But, the mallards are quickly there and Chrissy is lucky to be able to grab what she can from a squating position on the ground with one of her legs splayed out from under her.
Sometimes the mallards attack Chrissy -- even though she is one of them.
Last night a drake viciously pecked and pushed at Chrissy and I immediately tried to intervene.
"Hey, out of there! Leave her alone, you mean drake!" I shouted, waving a hand.
But, the well intentioned gesture meant to admonish one, freaked out all of the ducks and sent them flying and bolting for the water.
Chrissy was among them.
Even though her wings appear to be more splayed out than normal, Chrissy can apparently fly -- or at least enough to quickly escape to water if threatened or spooked.
And when in the water, it is difficult to differentiate Chrissy from the other female mallards. She appears to swim normally.
The last two factors make any ideas of attempted rescue for Chrissy difficult. But, even if it could be achieved, I am not sure what a rehabilitator or vet could do for Chrissy.
She doesn't appear to be "sick" or suffering from broken bones. Whatever it is that causes her disabilities is apparently something Chrissy was born with or is result of old injury.
In any event, Chrissy amazingly is able to survive and has been since at least the summer.
Last night, she returned to the embankment after the unintended scare and I made sure to get extra treats to her.
Meanwhile, as all this was going on, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, a solitary goose heading my way from the west side the lake.
"Oh my gosh! It must be # 7!"
"Loner goose" as I sometimes call him, climbed the embankment and walked cautiously towards me, beseeching treat.
I offered some seeds from my hand, but he shyly backed away as the members of Buster's gaggle usually do. I then tossed seeds to the ground in front of him and # 7 ate alongside the mallards.
But, where in the hell was Buster and his gaggle of six? I wondered.
Remembering that Loner had swam in from the western portion of the Meer, I decided to walk in that direction to see if I could find Buster and crew.
Sure enough, as I walked with my two dogs along the path leading to the west side of the lake, I could make out several geese suddenly swimming east.
Retracing my steps back to the feeding station, I was surprised to find Buster and several of his gaggle already there! #7 was still grazing too, but a respectable few feet away from Buster and his family still arriving to the embankment.
"Well, where in the hell were you all this time, Buster?" I asked, not expecting any answer.
But, Buster looked up from grazing on the ground as if to complain about the lack of black oiled sunflower seeds on the grass.
"Is this all we get tonight?"
Yes, unfortunately what remained on the ground was all Buster and crew were to get last night. I had exhausted my supply of treat.
Perhaps they should have paid closer attention to # 7 who apparently saw me sooner than Buster and family did.
"I am sorry, Buster. You are late to the table tonight. Loner and the ducks beat you to the punch!"
Walking home from the Meer, I thought back on Chrissy and was in awe on this duck's survival skills considering her challenging disabilities.
In fact, I of course cannot be sure, but Chrissy could be the same "crippled duck" I saw in the winter of 2011 and shot a short video of:
Wouldn't it be amazing if in fact, she is the same mallard?
Perhaps nature or God looks out for lame ducks and loner geese. -- PCA
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