Frozen in Time Under New Veil of White Assault -- RIP Little Mallard Hen

Rest in peace, little emaciated one in your icy grave.

The little female wood duck this morning couched among the equally freezing geese and mallards.

The bolder and more determined ones.

And still the gritty sparrows sing through it all.

At first, I wanted to believe it was a hat that had blown off someone's head and landed on the ice.

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But, closer inspection revealed another dead mallard on the snowy floor of the Central Park Reservoir. Fragments of ice scattered over her lifeless body, she appeared to be frozen in time.

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By her very thin body condition, it was apparent what had ultimately killed the sad little mallard hen. The unrelenting cold coupled with frozen watercourses and snow covered grounds is once again taking a toll on our water birds, resulting in starvation. That is now four we have lost in as many days at the particular location.

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Though now going twice a day to the Reservoir in attempt to get some nourishment to the desperate geese and ducks, I could not help but feel a profound sense of failure last night when seeing the still little mallard imbedded in the ice. I know that is not realistic under the dire circumstances, but it is perception nonetheless.

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Once again, I said a small prayer to God requesting to take the mallard's innocent little soul and bring her to a better place. Some place safe and warm from the mercilessness of this unrelenting winter in New York City.

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As if to add insult to injury, it snowed again in New York City last night and today. When returning back to the Reservoir this morning, the mallard's body was barely discernable under a new blanket of white assault -- as if to cover up a crime.

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But, what made matters even worse for the still-living geese and ducks is that the snow was the soft, powdery type -- the kind in which the seeds and pellets I was tossing, sank like stones beneath four or five inches of further icy challenge for the birds.

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Though obviously starving, most of the geese and ducks just sat, covered in ice and snow, trying more to conserve what body heat remained than even attempting to get to the food.

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Only a few of the more determined mallards flew to the top of the snow covered running track where getting to the cat food and seeds was actually easier because of human footprints patting down the snow.

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As one who normally loves winter over all the other seasons, I found myself detesting it this morning. Not for any discomfort to me, but for what it was doing to the all the water birds.  -- Even the sea gulls were frantically flying around this morning and swooping down to grab any errant pieces of bread or cat food.

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In essence, "my" geese and ducks got very little nourishment this morning despite the bountiful supply I brought.  Most of it is buried under another half foot of snow and ice.

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Finally leaving the Reservoir, I once again marveled at sparrows flittering through snowy tree branches, sunning themselves on fences and skipping merrily through the snow covered ground.  Though I tossed a little remaining bird seed to them, most didn't even seem that hungry.

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Sparrows may well be the very toughest animals in all of nature. Should I die tomorrow and be forced to come back as an animal, it would be a sparrow. Not only are they tough, resilient and adaptable, but they also seem to escape most of human's wrath and persecution. Indeed, sparrows are very gritty little birds and always seems to have smiles on their faces and songs in their hearts, regardless of weather or what is going on around them.

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But then finally leaving the park, my thoughts drifted back again to the lifeless little mallard still frozen under a new veil of snow at the Reservoir.

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She had made it through the deepest parts of winter and had only a few weeks to go until the spring. How ironic and sad is that?

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Perhaps for the water birds of our parks (and other wildlife) getting to spring this year is like trying to walk up a down escalator.

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It's still such a long, long way to go.

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Rest in peace, little mallard hen. - PCA

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