The change was subtle and would probably be missed by most.  
But, to me it was dynamic and unmistakable. 
I knew from the first instant of arriving to Harlem Meer last night  that the family of four geese were gone and that the "party" was  over.
I knew that by the behavior of the mallards.
All of the ducks were, (as usual), in the water when I first arrived  with my dogs and that told me everything I needed to know.
Although recognizing me and swimming to the embankment, the ducks had  returned to their more cautious and subdued behavior.  Gone was the loud,  raucous antics of the night before, as well as the confident prancing and  chasing around on the grass -- like drunk sailors enjoying a  night on the town. 
Even Brad (the domestic, flightless duck) had returned to his now  familiar and seemingly quiet and nervous ways.  Brad (unlike the wild  party evening before), had nothing to "say" last night.
After tossing a few treats to the ducks, I sat with my two dogs on a park  bench, hoping in vain that the four geese would magically show up.
But, I knew Papa, Mama and the two yearlings were nowhere  on the dark lake, illuminated only by the full, bright moon overhead.  -- A  moon that then seemed to be laughing at and mocking me.
I attempted to ponder the reasons the geese might have departed after  only one day at Harlem Meer.
Perhaps they were simply "park hopping" and took off for one of the park  lawns for some easy grazing at night?
Or, perhaps Papa goose, when realizing they were the only geese at the  Meer, steered the family to search and seek out whatever new staging site  might now exist for the geese?
(A "staging site" is one where, after having molted or raised young  somewhere else over the summer, the geese then fly away and "gather" with  former flock or extended family members prior to the fall  migrations.)  
As previously noted, Harlem Meer used to be the "staging" site for  many families of geese to congregate this time of year.  They  would usually rest, eat and then gather their gaggles together to  gradually leave in large groups to fly to wherever they spend the winters.
But, this year, the only geese to "gather" at the Meer were the family of  four (Mommy, Daddy and two goslings) from the Reservoir and two "loner"  geese who presumably hooked up with the family. 
But, all six geese were apparently harassed and chased out of the Meer  (never to be seen since) about three weeks ago by "goose patrols."
So, the question is, when noting the goose-empty Harlem Meer, did Papa and  his family simply set out to find the new staging site?
I had to acknowledge that such would be important to do.  As much as I  might selfishly want the family of four to stay at the Meer until migration  time, reality is that a tiny group of four geese flying through the air in  rural areas during the fall would be an easy target for hunters.
Nevertheless, no matter how much I tried to rationalize and explain away to  myself last night, the logical reasons why the geese might  suddenly leave Harlem Meer after only one day, one explanation kept  interjecting itself repeatedly:
The geese were harassed and chased out of the Meer, presumably early  yesterday morning.
And when continually having to consider that  final explanation, a part of me wished that I had never learned the  truth last Friday afternoon.
"Lie to me......I promise, I'll believe."
Some might question the logic of that lyric from an old Sheryl  Crow song.
But, I understand all too well exactly what it means.
I wished like hell last night that I did not have to consider at all the  third (and perhaps most likely?) explanation for the geese's sudden  departure.
In many ways now, I feel a little like a spouse whose partner has  admitted betrayal.
Everything -- even innocent or normal occurrences -- then become  "suspicious" after that.
"Is my partner really working late or stuck in a traffic jam -- or, is  s/he out carousing again?"
For us who strive to learn about nature and the geese, the  questions become:  Is the disappearance of the geese natural?  Did  they leave on their own accord?  Or, were they harassed and chased  out?    
(In some locations, the questions are even worse:  "Did the geese  leave on their own accord?  Or, were they rounded up and gassed or  slaughtered?"   I should consider myself lucky to not have  to ponder the latter explanation.)
I realize now, I will probably forever have problems both, "trusting" the  actions of my park and city and worse, even trusting my own  observations about nature and geese. 
I simply don't know what is true anymore -- and even less  so, what is natural.
(Then again, Central Park is really not so "natural" these days and  probably never was. More often than not recently, I find myself thinking that  Central Park has primarily become an outdoors version of "New York  Sports Clubs" -- sans the tread mills.)
Indeed, a part of me wishes I had never learned the truth last Friday  -- the words still burning in my ears:
"Yes, we have been using goose patrols since the geese completed  molting in July."
The very idea of using goose harassment at a time the geese would  naturally be "gathering" to prepare for flying away anyway is so  preposterous as to denote little or no knowledge at all of  natural animal and bird behavior.
Whatever "natural" behavior exists in geese has been totally disrupted and  altered by our never-ending "war," harassment and defamation of the birds.
If I am learning anything at all about the geese or nature, it is how does  nature "adapt" to man's endless persecution?
Not exactly the lessons I have wanted to learn.
I left Harlem Meer last night with my heart slumped down to my shoes.
Not too unlike the ducks who, though hiding their disappointment well,  simply slinked quietly back into the water. 
The change was subtle, but unmistakable.
"No geese today.....the joy has gone away."
Return to zero.  -- PCA
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