Play Misty For Me

A few weeks ago, I complained to the Central Park Conservancy and the Park Commissioner's office about the fishing that was newly occurring at Turtle Pond.

 

A few days later, I received a cheerful, optimistic (commercial-like) call back from the Conservancy to assure me that, "Fishing is absolutely not allowed at Turtle Pond!"

 

"That is wonderful news!" I told the gentleman on the phone. "But, you need to get the 'No Fishing' signs back up again!"

 

"Well, we are working on that.  But, you know Central Park already has so many signs. It's overwhelming for some people."

 

"True," I said, "But, these signs are important to have up."

 

Despite the fact I have been to Turtle Pond numerous times since that conversation without seeing the signs reposted, I still believed what I was told. 

 

In fact, I even wrote about the "positive news" in this blog. 

 

But, two weeks later, I am now wondering why that gentleman called me in the first place?

 

                                                     -------

 

Yesterday, it rained in New York City most of the day.

 

I love Central Park when it rains.

 

There is a lovely, wistful and dreamlike quality about it.

 

Few people around, except for a few stray joggers and dog walkers.

 

Groups of robins, pigeons, grackles and sparrows, grazing peacefully on the undisturbed grasses.

 

A light rain coming down and the fog accompanying it bestows a feeling of peace and mistyness.

 

Yesterday, I thought I heard a couple of honks when walking near the Great Lawn, but I did not see any geese in the sky.    Perhaps in eagerly anticipating the two geese I came to Turtle Pond to see ("Mama and Papa") I had imagined the familiar honking? 

 

I could not be sure.

 

Walking towards Turtle Pond,  my feelings of serenity and anticipation started to turn to a sense of foreboding.

 

Suddenly, the pond appeared before me as some barren, empty, gray slate.

 

There was not a mallard or goose to be seen on it.

 

As usual, I was starting to feel some sense of rising alarm over Mama and Papa goose.

 

Where were they?

 

I began to walk around Turtle Pond towards Belvedere Castle and the rocks that support it.   Hopefully, the two geese were somewhere in the rocks as they had frequently been in recent days.

 

That is when I saw it.

 

The evidence, so to speak, that what I was told two weeks ago was a crock of crap.

 

Despite the rain and the fact there was hardly anyone in the park, there was a lone fisherman on the rocks of the otherwise, very empty and dead quiet, Turtle Pond.

 

He looked at me while I snapped a picture.

 

I did not say anything to the hook and linesman, as there weren't any "No Fishing" signs to point to.

 

Inside, I felt betrayed and lied to.

 

But, I would feel even more depressed when actually going to the castle and discovering that Mama and Papa goose were no where to be seen anywhere among the rocks.

 

Ah, Jesus, they must be lying about not using the goose harassment so far this year, too!   One can't believe anything these people say.

 

A sick feeling came over me.  I felt suddenly queasy and needed to get away from the rocks.

 

Returning dejectedly back to the Turtle Pond area, I looked over the Great Lawn which was closed to the public due to the rain.

 

And suddenly, I could see in the distance, what appeared to be a few geese!

 

Could it be?   Could that be Mama and Papa?  But, there appear to be two other geese!

 

I began to walk around the Great Lawn to get a better view of the peacefully grazing geese.

 

Since the lawn was closed and gated off, I could not get real close to the geese, nor could I be sure Mama and Papa were among them.  (Papa usually doesn't welcome new geese.)

 

But, I was able to get close enough. 

 

I stood for a few minutes and just quietly watched and snapped a few photos.

 

And then, as the geese started to slowly walk, I noticed the one with the pronounced limp!

 

It was Papa!   And Mama was right beside him.

 

Suddenly, all the sorrow in my heart miraculously lifted!  

 

For a second, Mama and Papa seemed to see me and even made a couple of steps in my direction.

 

But, I did not motion or encourage them to come my way.

 

The Great Lawn is neither a safe nor welcoming area for them.

 

Papa and Mama then turned towards the two other geese and all four returned to grazing together.

 

It was at that point, I figured that the other geese were two of their grown goslings from last year.

 

I was watching a partial family reunion!

 

It was a beautiful and serene scene created by the rain that closed off the Great Lawn to the public, making it possible not only for a family of geese, but all the other birds to enjoy the benefits of a gray, raw and misty day.

 

Deciding not to intrude on this lovely scene further, I quietly turned to return home.

 

But, what really is home anymore?

 

The questions, the lies, the endless, cookie-cutter articles and videos that juxtapose pictures of geese with a ditched airliner in the Hudson and the false promises that we would ever leave the wildlife in peace in our city parks?

 

But, yesterday, there was some semblance of peace -- though rudely punctuated by a guy with a fishing line over a seemingly empty pond. -- The pond where, "absolutely no fishing is allowed!"

 

Yes, I am angry now about that phone call two weeks ago.  Because, I was dumb enough to believe it and in reporting it on this blog, was made into a liar too.

 

Perhaps the reason I love the geese so much is because, like all animals, they are so honest and true.

 

And perhaps why I love the rain so much is because it is the one time where the animals in our parks can truly enjoy the peace and the serenity that surrounds them.  -- The one time for a quiet, family get together on the grass.

 

"Play misty for me" -- everyday.   -- PCA

 

 

                                                          *********

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Many Faces of Wildlife Harassment

I realize now, why, when going to Harlem Meer, I usually go at night.

 

Yesterday, however, I decided to go during the afternoon -- a decision that would later be regretted.

 

I went during the day primarily because I wanted to verify if the same low number of waterfowl I was seeing at night was also the case during the day.  (I had wondered and hoped that perhaps most of the geese and mallards were flying somewhere else at night?)

 

To my disappointment, it is the same (and even more) desolate scene during the day as at night.

 

Only two geese, Bozo and Bonnie were present on the entire lake yesterday and less than a handfull of mallards.

 

Meanwhile (for one of the extremely rare occasions one sees these two ducks separated), Brad was cautiously swimming on the water while Angelina remained back under the protected Willow tree near the Dana Discovery Center.

 

I tossed some crack corn to Angelina which she ate. Afterwards, she went to settle under the tree again.  She seemed to have no interest in going into the water which seemed very strange to me.

 

I then went to see if I could offer any treats to Brad who was swimming aimlessly towards the east side of the Meer.

 

Unfortunately, that was the same area where several fisherman were casting long lines over the water.

 

At one point, Brad saw me and started swimming towards the embankment. 

 

But, then one of the fisherman cast out a line and Brad hastily and nervously retreated.

 

He and the other three mallards in the same area, quickly changed directions and started darting away from the fishing lines.

 

For a duck who is usually so calm, collected and confident (even in the face of frigid winters and snow storms), it was surprising to see Brad behave in such fearful, jumpy manner.

 

In fact, all the few remaining waterfowl at the Meer these days appear more "nervous" than normal.

 

Bozo and Bonnie were not in their usual open spot, intimidating dogs that come into the park.  Rather, they were behind one of the fenced and protected grassy embankments. Two mallards appeared to be hanging out with them, presumably for feeling of safety.  (See photo.)

 

Like, Angelina, all four birds chose not to be in the water at that time.

 

The lake appears so empty, dull and lifeless with the absence of waterfowl on it.

 

It is ironic and (to me) despairing and out of place, to see more fisherman at the water than waterfowl.

 

As I was mulling over the disconcerting scene, suddenly one of the fisherman pulled a small fish out of the water.

 

The fish was desperately flopping and jumping around on the grass.  

 

In a flash, I was suddenly transported back to an unpleasant childhood memory:

 

I am 8-years old.   My uncle has taken me out on the dock at Fire Island Bay to show me fishing.  He pulls a smallish fish out of the water and it is flopping frantically on the wooden dock, the sun catching and highlighting its glistening and struggling body. I let out a loud scream, turn around and run back to the cottage a short distance away and where my Grandmother is. I am crying and hysterical thinking about the fish struggling for breath and dying before my eyes.  My Grandmother tries to console me, but I don't hear what she says. My uncle later tries to comfort me, but his words go past my ears.

 

I loved my uncle and Grandmother who were otherwise, animal lovers.  I loved Fire Island when my aunt and uncle were kind and thoughtful enough to invite us there.  But, I did not love the fishing nor did I believe whatever rationalizations I was offered for it.  ("They're only fish?")

 

We never spoke about that incident again in my family, nor did it effect my relationship with my beloved relatives.

 

But, yesterday, I was suddenly transported back to that memory when seeing the struggling little fish squirming and flopping on the grass at Harlem Meer.  And I experienced the same  feeling.

 

Only this time, I could not run home crying to my Grandmother.

 

Instead, I quickly turned my head and left the park.

 

Walking home, I wondered if there is something wrong with me?

 

I have always thought that I derived my love for animals from my family, particularly, my kindly and generous Grandmother (God rest her soul.)

 

And yet, my family accepted fishing and occasionally practiced it.

 

Why was I so repulsed by it?

 

Perhaps because I imagine being hooked on something and pulled into the water and drowned.  I imagine that can't be pleasant for any living being trying to gasp for breath and escape.

 

Others will of course say, "Fish aren't human and don't experience the same as we do."

 

Then again, who among us has ever been a fish?

 

Nevertheless, yesterday made me realize something:

 

That is, that apparently one's feelings and attitudes towards animals don't entirely come from one's family.  Perhaps some of us are born "different."  Perhaps our divert  paths are set before us from the moment we are born.

 

I realized something else, too. -- The reason I usually go to Harlem Meer at night:

 

I hate seeing the few remaining ducks and geese nervously dodging fishing lines and I hate seeing the fishing itself -- especially where it is allowed and one has no means of protest.

 

Part of me now believes that "harassment" has definitely been used against the geese and other waterfowl at Central Park even though, so far, no one has admitted to that.

 

Evidence to that now not only seems to be the low numbers of ducks and geese in Central Park, but even more so, the remaining birds' nervous, guarded and unusual behavior.

 

But, maybe again, that has more to do with the fishing than actual and paid-for "harassment?"

 

Perhaps, the fishing IS harassment in and of itself for ALL the animals on the lake, whether of fin or wing. 

 

There appear to be many faces of wildlife and nature harassment, whether paid for or otherwise.  -- PCA

 

 

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No One (and Everyone) Is To Blame

"You can look at the menu, but you just can't eat.

 

You can feel the cushion, but you can't have a seat.

 

You can dip your feet in the pool, but you can't have a swim.

 

You can feel the punishment, but you can't commit the sin."

 

The above words are from the Howard Jones song of 1986, "No One is to Blame."

 

This could well be the theme song for Canada geese; especially, the last line, "You can feel the punishment, but you can't commit the sin."

 

For all the punishments that are presently being laid out to Canada geese, one has to wonder of their sins?

 

Is it the "sin" of eating?   Attempting to procreate?  Or, being in the paths of speeding jetliners or Luis Vittan shoes?

 

One was not aware that any of those things were "sins."

 

But, apparently they are. 

 

The punishments for these sins include (but, is not limited to) roundups and gassings, expanding hunting seasons (i.e. shootings with arrows or guns), harassment with dogs and pyrotechnics and destruction of nests and eggs.

 

If the punishments seem a bit excessive for the perceived "sins and crimes", (those crimes of just trying to live) who does one complain to if not happy with this type of "justice and management?"

 

Ah, that does get tricky because it seems (like the song says), "no one (person) is to blame."

 

The decisions to "manage, cull, shoot, gas or harass" Canada geese lie with no one agency or individual in particular, but in fact, with many. 

 

The decisions represent a convoluted vortex of bureaucracies and agencies ranging from those on the highest federal levels (Dept of Interior) to those on the very lowest representing town boards or officials from local parks and golf courses.

 

Then of course there is the FAA, who, rather than map out bird migratory paths via avian radar, seems to prefer the easier route of extermination campaigns against any bird that dares to fly.

 

Lastly,  there are those members of the general public who, either due to empty lives and overactive imaginations, complain that the geese mess up their designer shoes, chase children or eat grass or corn in the fields.

 

Still, the fact is, that most members of the public don't care about this quandary (or "war" on wildlife) and are not even aware of it.

 

During the early morning hours of last July 8th, a team of hired workers for the USDA descended on Prospect Park in Brooklyn and rounded up 368 Canada geese and their goslings, who at that time could not escape due to either molting or youth. The birds were stuffed into crates, stacked in trucks and hauled to Kennedy Airport where they were then crammed into gas chambers and killed through suffocation with CO2.

 

Later that morning, when concerned park goers asked park officals, "Where are all the geese?" they were told that the flightless birds had "flown to Jamaica Wildlife Refuge."

 

That was obviously a lie as young goslings and molting geese can't fly anywhere.

 

Two of the park goers (Anne-Katrin Titze and Ed Bahlman) reported the incident and untruths to the New York Times and the rest is history.

 

Although more than 1,600 Canada geese were rounded up from various locations around NYC last year and gassed without public or media scrutiny, the Prospect Park goose gassings became a national news story because, initially two people dared to speak out against and expose it.

 

This year, Prospect Park has implemented a "goose harassment" program whereby the geese (when able to fly) are chased away with Border Collies and will presumably be killed somewhere else.

 

That is called, "progress and humanity."

 

We are told that all this "culling" and harassment is because there are "too many Canada geese."

 

There are an estimated 3.8 million resident Canada geese for all of North America according to recent news reports.

 

When Europeans first arrived to this country, there were between 3 and 5 billion passenger pigeons.

 

Last known counts of these birds in the beginning of the last century was 225,000.

 

The passenger pigeon was then hunted to extinction.

 

Canada geese were in danger of extinction by the middle of the last century due to overhunting and destruction of habitat.

 

But, then attempts were made to bring the species back as a "game bird" for hunters to shoot at through captive breeding and release throughout the north east of the United States.

 

Unlike other threatened species, the Canada geese have adapted well to both, predation on their species,  as well as attempts to "restore" them.

 

"Too well" according to most Wildlife Biologists now.

 

The geese are now tagged "invasive" and are blamed for all kinds of "conflicts" with humans.

 

Some people even ignore the devastating destruction of wetlands and natural habitat for waterfowl and blame the geese for the fact that other bird species are disappearing.

 

Well, why not?  Blame the geese for everything from rainfall and floods to global warming to summers changing to winters.  The geese can't protest, stand on a picket lines or lobby Congress.

 

"You can feel the punishment, but you can't commit the sin."

 

Indeed.

 

And like the song also says,

 

"No one is to blame."

 

But, the fact is, everyone is to blame.  -- PCA

 

 

                                                   **********

 

 

A "Silly" (or Brave?) Goose

(Photo:  "Bozo" -- the dog hating gander at Harlem Meer) 

 

 

Now I know where the expression, "silly goose" comes from.

 

It had to have been derived from a goose like "Bozo":

 

If I am madly in love with Papa goose from Turtle Pond, I am infinitely curious about Bozo, the dog-hating gander at Harlem Meer.

 

Especially curious because now that all the other geese have seemingly vanished (or been banished from the Meer by "Goosebusters"), Bozo and his mate, Bonnie, mysteriously remain.

 

The last two times I have been at the Meer (at night), there are hardly any waterfowl at all.

 

The yearlings are gone (i.e. the grown goslings from Turtle Pond last year) as well as the few pairs of geese I have come to know.  Gone too, are almost all the mallards, except for a few "stray" drakes and of course, Brad and Angelina, the flightless, domestic ducks.

 

But, Bozo and Bonnie still remain.

 

How do I recognize Bozo and Bonnie?

 

It's easy.

 

Bozo always approaches me when I arrive at the Meer with my two dogs.  His cautious and shy mate, Bonnie is usually some paces behind him.

 

But, Bozo does not swim up to me in greeting or because he is hungry and seeking treats.

 

Rather, he comes to stalk Tina and Chance, my two, pussy woosy pooches.

 

Because I now recognize his bold posture and threatening glares, I immediately secure my two dogs to a park bench and gently approach Bozo as he climbs up on the embankment.

 

"Now, Bozo, be nice.   You know my dogs are no threat to you!"

 

Bozo hisses.

 

But, he does not hiss at me.  His eyes are fixed on Tina and Chance who are sitting quietly at least 20 feet away.

 

I reach into my little sandwich bag and toss some cracked corn and blueberries to Bozo.

 

He shows a mild interest in the treats and lowers his head to take a few nibbles.   But still, Bozo is fixated on my dogs.

 

Meanwhile, Bonnie is swimming lazy circles in the water, apparently nervous about coming up on the embankment until her mate signals an "all clear."

 

I decide to leave with Tina and Chance to look for Brad and Angelina.

 

There is nothing I can say to Bozo to make him like or trust dogs and apparently he has instilled similar fears in his mate, Bonnie.

 

Walking down the south path of the Meer, I can hear Brad and Angelina before I actually see them.

 

Angelina is particularly loud and boisterous, constantly chattering and Brad answers her in kind.  (Wish I had some inkling to what these two chatterboxes go on about constantly. They are never at a loss for duck words.)

 

Both ducks immediately recognize my dogs and me (Brad and Angelina have absolutely NO fear of my dogs and will prance directly up to them) and hop up on the embankment.

 

Brad eats directly out of my hand, but he keeps a careful watch on the three drakes also climbing onto the embankment in search of treats. 

 

Then, in a flash, Brad immediately departs from the treats and aggressively charges the three unfortunate drakes!   They are unceremoniously chased and dumped back into the water.

 

"BRAD!  That is NOT nice!  There is more than enough here for you and Angelina!  You need to SHARE!"

 

Brad has no interest in "sharing" anything. He returns to his mate and the treats grumbling what I presume to be duck curses.

 

"These miserable mallards!  They just refuse to learn!"

 

We go through the routine again.

 

But, this time, when the determined mallards attempt to return, I step in between the charging Brad and the drakes.  Brad backs off this time, but I know that is only temporary.

 

Brad is one very mean duck these days.

 

So different from the winter when, needing the mallards to help keep open water, Brad often and generously allowed them to eat first!  (Talk about being calculating and shrewd when necessity calls for it!) 

 

But, come the spring, Brad doesn't give the mallards the time of day.

 

Part of me wonders if Brad is the reason almost all the mallards have vanished from Harlem Meer?

 

But, then the geese have left too -- all but, Bozo and Bonnie.

 

Another part of me suspects the goose harassment has been around.

 

But, of course charging Border Collies would not scare Bozo and Bonnie away.

 

On the contrary,  Bozo would charge the Border Collies!

 

I return back to Bozo and Bonnie, who this time, is up on the embankment eating while her charged up mate keeps protective guard over her.

 

I again secure my dogs to the park bench and attempt to have a "talk" with Bozo.

 

"Of all the NICE geesies who have been banished from this park, I cannot believe you are STILL here, Bozo!   Don't you know, you give your brethren a bad name?  Why do you CHOOSE to stay in an area with so many Pit Bulls and Rotties?  Are you looking to get your neck rung?"

 

But, Bozo keeps staring at my dogs, as they sit peacefully under the park bench. 

 

He again hisses his disdane.

 

At that point, I decide I really don't trust Bozo and go to get my dogs to leave once again.

 

This is one gander who is not going to change his feathers.

 

After untying my dogs, I am careful to walk very gingerly around the sentry gander and his passive mate who continues to casually graze without even looking up.

 

But, Bozo never takes his eyes from us as my two passive dogs and I practically tip toe from the Meer.

 

Walking home, I wonder to myself what terrible thing could have happened to make this gander hate and fear dogs so much?

 

Did a dog kill a former mate to Bozo or perhaps his young goslings at some point?

 

There has to be a reason for this very strange and hostile goose behavior.  Geese are normally such peaceful animals who simply fly off when frightened by dogs or other predator animals.  (That is precisely why dogs are used to "harass" and chase geese away!)

 

To see a goose behave so confrontationally with dogs is highly unusual and curious.  Bozo obviously believes in "facing the enemy" without flinching or backdown.

 

In early April I took a video of Bozo when first encountering him with my dogs:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F7cHxz8MwII

 

In later days, Bozo and Bonnie were positioned near the entrance of the Meer where Bozo brazenly walked up to every dog entering the park hissing, honking and ordering them to get the hell out.

 

So, is it any wonder now that Bozo and Bonnie are still at the Meer despite the possible dog harassment that has occurred?

 

Not really, when one thinks about it.

 

Bozo is more than willing and able to confront the enemy head on.

 

What is surprising though, is that he is still alive.

 

Between Bozo and the equally brazen, Brad, dogs and ducks don't have a chance at Harlem Meer these beautiful, spring days.  -- PCA

 

 

                                                      *********

 

Love From The Rocks

(Photos -- Papa goose keeping watch over Mama on rocks of Turtle Pond.  Mama in area of former nest.  The two geese on rocks together.)

 

I think I am in love.

 

Unfortunately, the object of my affections already has a mate.

 

Now, before anyone starts accusing me of being a "home wrecker," please be advised that the partner of my beloved is very secure, liberal and understanding. 

 

She doesn't mind her fellow spending a few special moments with me.

 

The prince of my dreams might not be every woman's ideal.

 

He walks with a limp, has six grown kids, has no bank account and doesn't drive a Porsche.

 

But, it is precisely because of these things that I am in love with him.

 

The permanent limp I am sure, has been derived from loyally and bravely defending his mate.  He was an exemplary dad to the kids when they were growing up, never leaving them out of his protective sight for a moment.  And the lack of bank account or Porsche?

 

Well, my love doesn't need those things to be happy or get around because, well, quite frankly, he's got wings.

 

Okay.  My love interest isn't quite human.

 

In fact, he is a gander.

 

"Papa goose" from Turtle Pond, to be precise.

 

Now, Papa and his mate, Mama have put me through some paces of late.

 

When going to Turtle Pond in recent days, I never immediately see the two lovebirds either swimming on the water nor preening on the rocks near the little pier.

 

No, I have to go and search for them.   Usually to the top of Belvedere Castle.

 

At the top of the castle one can view of the entire pond, as well as the rocks lying directly under it.

 

That is where Mama and Papa usually are these days, including yesterday -- The same rock area where recently their nested eggs were destroyed.

 

It is as though the two geese are still grieving their unhatched offspring, as normally the Belvedere castle rocks are not their normal stomping grounds. These are, after all waterfowl that usually nest on the ground.

 

I breathed a sigh of relief when seeing Mama and Papa on the rocks yesterday, mama preening while Papa kept careful watch.

 

I then left the castle area to go to the small pier lying on the pond.  Not sure what I expected to see there.  Perhaps just say "hi" to the few mallards swimming on the water.

 

I could however, make out the two geese still on the rocks with the zoom feature on my camera.

 

Then, all of a sudden, I could hear honking and Papa goose was in the air flying to the pier!

 

Couldn't believe my ears or eyes and ran the video feature on my camera to insure I was not dreaming:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvxgzhZXhmM

 

Papa landed expertly on the water like an accomplished water skier -- just a few feet below me.  He opened his mouth and honked a loud greeting.

 

"Hey, nice to see you. Where you been?"

 

Swooning with what I just witnessed and heard (but never expected) I think I immediately fell in love right there.

 

But, I did not wear my heart on my sleeve.

 

Instead, I just said, "Hi Daddy!" and tossed some cracked corn to the warmly greeting gander.

 

Papa didn't really seem that hungry, but he accepted my offers graciously. 

 

We exchanged sweet nothings for a couple of minutes.

 

Then, having been more than generous with her allotted time to us, Mama goose then left her spot on the castle rocks to come flying to be near her mate.  She landed a few feet from him and came swimming up to the pier as if to say to both of us, "OK, I am here now. My man comes back to me."

 

Papa then began to swim around Mama protectively, while I offered some cracked corn to her.  She gratefully accepted:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gloVjtn0PGc&NR=1

 

It was a few sweet moments and I am very appreciative of Mama's willingness to "share her man" so to speak with a silly blonde woman with a couple of dogs.

 

I may be "in love" but this is one love borrowed for a special moment in time, from the rocks.  --PCA

 

 

                                                        **********

"We Will Not Be Broken!"

Photo -- One of the new baby goslings at Prospect Park.  Photo taken by Peter Colin.)

 

You can shoot at us with your guns and arrows. You can round up our families and gas them.  You can chase, torment and harass us from every corner of the globe. You can TRY to destroy our eggs.  But, you will never, ever BREAK US!"

 

That is the geese's message to us.

 

Two days ago, it was Mother's Day.

 

And apparently on that same day, there is a new mother at Prospect Park!:

 

http://www.brooklynpaper.com/stories/34/19/all_goslings_2011_5_13_bk.html

 

New life in an area that less than a year ago, was the scene of an inexcuable massacre of wildlife -- the roundups and gassings of 368 Canada geese and their baby goslings from Prospect Park.

 

Numerous park goers and several goose advocates have recently discovered the new family of geese at Prospect Park: The proud mama and papa geese and their four newly hatched goslings!

 

They have courageously and steadfastly defied all the odds -- including having their eggs oiled a few weeks ago.

 

Some might ask, "How could this happen in a park that recently took measures both to harass geese and oil their eggs?"

 

That is a good question to which we don't have a clear answer yet.

 

According to The Brooklyn Paper report, the new parent geese are the same geese whose eggs were shown being oiled in the recent egg addling video!  The gander tried valiantly to defend the nest -- for which he was laughed at.

 

But, whose got the last laugh now?

 

(If it is true that these are the same geese in that video, then it means that proper protocols were not followed before oiling the eggs --i.e. dropping eggs in water to test viability of embryos.  If viable, the eggs are NOT to be addled!)

 

As written endlessly in this blog, the so-called "good intentions" of goose "harassment" and egg oiling have been totally abused to include tormenting and harassing geese even where their numbers have been severely decimated, (as well as destroying their eggs and thus their abilities to compensate for the harassment and predation).

 

It is not at all unlike our so-called "euthanasia" of cats and dogs.

 

Euthanasia is supposed to mean humanely ending the life of one who is suffering terminal illness or injury.  Literally, it means, "good death" and is supposed to be done for reasons of mercy.

 

But, instead, "euthanasia" as it is primarily performed in animal shelters today is killing for convenience.  It is mostly killing dogs and cats because their caregivers have "moved," "had a baby" divorced, gotten sick or moved in with an "allergic" roommate or romantic partner.

 

There is nothing "merciful" or "good" about it.

 

Well, it is the same thing with most goose "euthanasia,"  "harassment" and egg destruction programs as they are practiced today. (In fact, to use the term, "euthanasia" to ever refer to goose gassings is a total bastardization of the word.)

 

Most of these actions are not being conducted out of necessity, as much as convenience.

 

Some people don't like getting bird droppings on their Minnolo Bloniks.

 

I have suggested to the goose advocates living around Prospect Park that they need to be constantly on top of this new goose family in terms of documenting everything happening to them.  -- Photos, videos and hopefully a blog.

 

I am personally worried that the oiling done on these goslings while they were still in the eggs might have had some negative effect on their health and development.

 

Hopefully not, but we don't know.  Already two of them have died from the original six goslings hatched.

 

I am particularly worried if any of the babies might develop "Angel's Wings" -- but of course, that would be blamed on any people who might have fed the geese bread.

 

I am getting to the point where I don't believe most of the crap said by so-called "experts," media or wildlife biologists anymore.

 

I believe rather, we need to observe and document everything for ourselves.

 

Meanwhile, the geesies are having still one more laugh on us.

 

"Did the ones who can only fly in their steel contraptions and can barely swim without an inner tube really think they could outwit us in the end?"

 

HONK, HONK!   -- PCA

 

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Those Crazy Geesies!

Sometimes I think these damn geesies like to give people near heart attacks.

 

Check out this video of a newswoman trying to do a weather report while two parent geese cross a busy city street with their two tiny goslings:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1huQTrx7NBs&NR=1

 

(Its a really good thing this incident didn't occur in NYC.  Mayor Doombird would call out a firing squad or the Navy Seals.)

 

Crazy geesies!

 

Mama and Papa goose at Turtle Pond are sending me towards a nervous breakdown (like the poor weather girl in the video) with their recent and frustrating games of "hide and seek!"

 

For three days in a row, I cannot find the elusive pair when I first go to Turtle Pond.

 

All kinds of horrible images immediately start racing through my head:

 

The guy from "Goosebusters" in a little boat paddling furiously towards the geesies.   The mean old Border Collies on the embankment about to charge into the water! 

 

Chasing, chasing, paddling, barking,  cornering.......

 

My terrified geesies leaping towards the sky in a panic!   A plane flying low over the park!

 

"No, NOOOOOO, STOP!!  LEAVE MY GEESIES ALONE!!!"

 

Like a horror movie playing repeatedly in my head.

 

Today, as in the past two days, I walked all around Turtle Pond, but could find no sign of the two hide-and-seek players.   I practically ran with my two dogs up to Belvedere Castle to search for Mama and Papa in the rocks.   

 

But they were not there!

 

Oh no!  Where are they?  Go to the lake!  Maybe they are hiding under a rowboat!  Maybe they are stuck and can't get out!

 

But, then, just as I was about to expand the search to the Central Park Boat Lake, Mama and Papa casually popped out from some marshes and started swimming romantically on the pond together.

 

They were not at all phased by the drama (and near breakdown) they had just caused! 

 

Rather, it was like the joke and highlight of their day!  "Lets give that silly woman and her two nutty dogs some exercise!  Let's freak her out!"

 

Grabbing my two dogs who looked at me as if to say, "Hey, what the hell?  We were just getting comfortable!", we immediately went tripping down the castle steps and running towards the little pier.

 

"Come on, come on, guys!  Tina, you know you want to see your geesies!"

 

(I hope the ASPCA doesn't come after me for cruelty to senior dogs.  One of my dogs, Tina, is 15-years-old and Chance, my Pomeranian is 13-years.)

 

Breaking the speed record, we were at the pier in a matter of two minutes!

 

And as soon as they saw me, Mama and Papa came cheerfully sauntering over. "Where you been?  Haven't seen you in a few days!"

 

"It's not MY fault you haven't seen me!  I've been here, but you chose to hide in the damn rocks!"

 

First posing for photos, both geese then looked at me as if to ask, "OK, where's our reward?"

 

"Reward?  My wings!  I shouldn't give you guys anything for what you've put me through over these past three days!"

 

But, of course I did.  Reached into my little sandwich bag and tossed some cracked corn to the fun-and-games geese.

 

Then, I realized I wasn't alone on the little pier.

 

Two men in their 30's  were standing and gazing down at the turtles, two geese and three mallards on the pond.

 

One was asking the other about the turtles.

 

"Well, I am a bird biologist, so don't know that much about the turtles," his friend replied.

 

When I heard, "bird biologist," I expected that any second, this guy was going to start yelling at me about tossing treats to the geese.

 

But, thankfully, he didn't.

 

Instead, he kept talking to his friend about the mallards.

 

"You know, even though wood ducks are far more plentiful, they are about to declare the mallards an invasive species."

 

Mallards!  An "invasive" species?

 

Oh, Jesus!.  What next?   Midnight roundups and gassings of mallards?

 

I did not attempt to join in the conversation as I had already heard enough.

 

Besides, by that time, Mama and Papa had sauntered over to their favorite rock near the pier and were preening themselves.  (Getting ready for a romantic evening?)

 

Walking home from Turtle Pond with my two exhausted dogs, the man's words kept reverberating:

 

"They're about to declare the mallards an invasive species."

 

Ah, but I am already paranoid enough about the geese!

 

And its all Mama and Papa's fault.

 

Those crazy geesies!

 

They love to give others -- from weather girls to neurotic New Yorkers to senior dogs, near heart attacks.  -- PCA

 

 

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