The Guns of Autumn (The "Sport" of Hunting Geese and Elephants)

Geese at Central Park Boat Lake this past summer. Far more beautiful when alive and free than bloodied and battered at the end of some grinning fool's arm.

Ah, autumn.  

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The season of beauty, agreeable weather, still bountiful food supplies for wildlife and changing colors. 

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One might also say autumn is a season of relative peace for wildlife in urban parks -- though these days one would be compelled to put an asterisk aside such statement if talking about Canada geese. 

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Current news articles about geese are mostly comprised of harassment measures used against them in various urban locations throughout the country.  (Example: http://fox4kc.com/2013/09/25/geese-police-win-back-metro-fountains-from-pooping-birds/)

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It seems the idea is to "move along" or push geese into more rural areas where they promptly become targets for hunters.

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Speaking of which:

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http://blog.syracuse.com/outdoors/2013/09/tully_boy_12_gets_his_first_ca.html

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The photo above of a grinning 12-year-old boy holding up two bloody geese he shot to death appeared as an "Outdoors" blog post from a Syracuse newspaper.

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Part of the caption read, "The look on his face tells it all."

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I found both, the photo and caption disturbing and promptly dashed off an email to the blog writer.

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Surprisingly, this has resulted in several email exchanges between myself and the column writer. 

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Unsurprisingly, there is little agreement between us on the subject of hunting, though emails have been cordial and overall respectful.

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One can understand the requirement of a newspaper column writer to appeal to the general readership.  Obviously, the "general readership" in Syracuse, NY would presumably be different from the generally more "liberal" audience of New York City.

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But, the subject or question of cruelty to animals is not really a "liberal" or "conservative" issue.

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It is more a matter of core values, reason and justice.

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The motivation for responding so passionately to the photo of the young boy holding up dead geese while grinning for the camera is because it appeared to me to be a type of brainwashing of children.

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The fact is, most children are not born with a desire to kill animals, much less delight in such destruction.

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On the contrary, children witnessed over the years (including, my own) seem to be born with a natural empathy and joy for animals that is unfortunately too often blunted and discouraged by society at large and by individual parenting.

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But, empathy is an important quality to nurture and encourage in our young. 

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A society lacking in this core value can find itself eventual victim of seemingly random, unexplainable and ceaseless violence and injustice.

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In saying these things, one should not suggest or imply that all hunters are mindless, sadistic brutes who get their rocks off by blowing away animals (though this is surely true of some).

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Rather, I personally believe that most hunters were (like the young boy pictured), indoctrinated from the time they were very young to believe that it is "sissy" to empathize with other life forms and that animals are on the planet solely for our "use," "pleasure" or domination.

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This philosophy appears flawed because if extended outward to other humans, it results in all manner of injustice, self-entitlement, narcissism and "might makes right" attitudes.

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(It should be noted on the latter point, that according to the FBI,  childhood cruelty to animals is one of the three ""red flags" for indication of later violence or maltreatment towards humans.)

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I am very grateful that when a young girl and taken on a fishing trip by my uncle and grandmother, I was not admonished or made fun of when reacting with distress to the gasping by the fish when caught and thrashing around on the deck.

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My uncle and grandmother accepted my dislike for the activity and I still loved and respected them despite our differences on the subject.   We just didn't talk about fishing again.

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To this day, I do not like fishing, but accept that it is a favored activity among many otherwise, good and decent people.  People who have been taught from a very young age that fishing and hunting, rather than being cruel to animals, are "tradition" and "sport."

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But, slapping a rationalization label on something doesn't essentially change what it really is.

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Bull fighting is considered "tradition" or even "art" in Spain and Mexico.  But most people in this country (and many now in Spain and Mexico) simply view it (rightly) as cruelty and brutality towards animals. The bull never really has a chance as all odds are stacked against him from the get-go.

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By the same token, the uses of high powered rifles, blinds, decoys, "calls," and other hunting paraphernalia stacks odds in favor of hunters over the animals who are not willing participants in the so-called, "sport."

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True "sport" (as usually defined and perceived) involves the willing participation of two similarly skilled and trained competitors or teams.   How exactly does this apply to hunting -- especially "canned hunting" in which semi-tame animals have little, if any chance of escape?  (Example, "pigeon shoots" in Pennsylvania).

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I have a male friend who, though he does not hunt himself, has friends who do.

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I have heard all the arguments for hunting over the years so that nothing is "new" or surprising anymore.

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"The animals will starve to death is we don't shoot them."   "We eat what we kill."   "Hunting and fishing are means of parental/child bonding and/or bonding with buddies."

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I realize this is a core value difference and not one likely to result in "win" on either side anytime soon through intimidation, name-calling or revolution.

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One has to hope that education, enlightenment, the nurturing of natural childhood empathy and greater appreciation of nature and the world's wildlife are the keys to eventual change.

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One can, for example, be encouraged by the outrage expressed by thousands of people to the inexcusable airing on NBC Sports channel, ("Under Wild Skies") of an African elephant being shot in the face multiple times by so-called, "Big Game" hunters.

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http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2431246/NBC-Sports-sparks-outrage-airing-NRA-sponsored-host-kills-elephant-shooting-face.html

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The elephant obviously died in agony and there was no excuse for this horrific act of human cruelty, violence and domination.

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But,  was there really appreciable difference between the hunters gloating over the death of the elephant and the child gloating over his killing of two geese?

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True, one species of animal is currently endangered and the other is not.  But, the actions are exactly the same.

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Hunting is in fact, one of the primary causes for many species of otherwise "plentiful" animals eventually going extinct.

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One has to conclude that the two bloody geese in the photo did not die any more willingly or "humanely" than the elephant in the NBC video.  Nor were the goose deaths any more justified than that of the elephant. 

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None of the animals posed any threat to their killers. 

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They were all killed simply for the "pleasure" of it.

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(On this note, it is no small irony that killers of the elephant also boast of later plan to "shoot some birds.")

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That is in fact, what needs to be challenged and ultimately changed if we are to be a society that truly and actually evolves. 

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The killing of animals for the so-called "pleasure" of it or simply because we can (i.e. domination and attitudes of "might makes right" and self-entitlement).

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Still, we don't see self-proclaimed,  "responsible" hunters speaking out against illegal poachers, the "big gamers" shooting African elephants or the wahoos blowing away defenseless pigeons in PA.

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One has to therefore seriously question if there is really such thing as "responsible hunters?"

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Whether the grins and celebrations are for blowing geese out of the sky or smashing up an elephant's face, the action and sadistic characterization (i.e. taking pleasure in another's pain and/or death) is the same.

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Autumn, though it may be arguably the most beautiful season of the entire year, is, unfortunately also, the season of the guns. 

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Millions of animals the world over, now face their peril.  -- PCA

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Surviving Mean Seasons in Public Park, Domestic Ducks Prove their Resilience

Cochise and chums celebrate their "making it through" last night at Harlem Meer, as summer finally folds into fall.

It was last November when I first saw them.

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Since it was the season of bird migrations, I at first thought the four large and strange looking ducks on the water at Harlem Meer were temporary migratory visitors.

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But, they looked a bit straggly for migratory birds. Dirty, thin and one had what appeared to be, a twisted wing sticking up from the top of her back.

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As the days wore on, it was apparent the "migratory visitors" weren't going anywhere.

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Though at first they appeared very scared and practically "frozen" to the north side of the lake, as the days turned into weeks, the two black and two blonde ducks began to gain confidence and acclimate themselves to their new environment.

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But it was when observing them freely walking up to people and begging for handouts, that it became apparent that these were not wild "migratory" birds at all, but rather domestic (flightless) ducks apparently abandoned to Harlem Meer.  

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It was around that time I took particular interest in the "barnyard" ducks that I would later name, "Cochise" (because of the wing feathers sticking up in the air), Carol, Connie and Carol.  I assumed the two black ducks were male and the two blondes, female, but later learned (upon observance of behavior) that Cochise is actually a female and one of the blonde ducks, a male.

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Oh well.  What's in a name anyway?

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Concerned for the fact the domestics ducks were incapable of flight and therefore unable to forage as wild ducks can, I took to bringing food supplements each night in the way of cracked corn and sunflower seeds for them. 

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We were after all, fast approaching winter when natural food supplies dwindle and the birds need extra fat reserves to get them through the harsh and bitter weather.

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It didn't take long for the four domestics to take on a robust appearance far superior to the way they first looked when dumped at the Meer.

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Despite the many strikes against them, they appeared to be thriving.

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As seeming testimony to the smarts and adaptability of animals, the four domestic ducks initially bred for "meat" nevertheless managed to survive Hurricane Sandy, as well as numerous storms even before winter officially set in.

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One could not help but be impressed by their abilities to quickly learn on the fly, organize and stay together through the storms and somehow survive whatever nature had to dish out.

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By the early part of January temperatures plunged to below freezing and virtually all of the lake began to freeze over to solid ice.

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It was around that time that all but one mallard left for the still open waters of the Reservoir further south to Harlem Meer.

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Unfortunately, Cochise, Conner, Connie and Carol didn't have the option of taking flight from a frozen lake to seek out open water.

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But, they were fortunate to have the leadership of "Wiggly," one of the other two domestic ducks at Harlem Meer.

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Wiggly, her mallard boyfriend and Honker (the other domestic duck),  showed Cochise and company exactly what they had to do in order to maintain a tiny pool of open water in an otherwise frozen lake.

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All seven ducks literally and vigorously swam 24/7 to prevent a bath tub sized of pool of water from becoming solid ice.

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So intent upon her duties to constantly swim without respite, Wiggly never came out of the water even to temporarily feed.

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At the time, there was also one swan at Harlem Meer.

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But, Hector was not one for any kind of "work."

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As long as Hector had human admirers coming by to feed him each day, he was content to let the ducks do all the hard labor.   If things got too rough, Hector always had the option to leave.

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Fortunately, the weather eventually warmed a bit, the ducks (working together) succeeded in creating a larger pool of open water and some of the mallards returned.  

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But, in February a severe snow storm hit NYC, the Meer froze over again and the domestic ducks were once again challenged.

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But, this time, before the mallards again checked out, a large gaggle of geese suddenly arrived to save the day!

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Between all the mallards and geese on the lake to work the water, the domestic ducks had it relatively easy compared to the earlier freeze in January when they just had themselves to rely on.  

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Eventually, the bitter winds and cold of winter relented to finally give way to the arriving spring.

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But, this was when I began to seriously worry.

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As, in the past, it was always the spring and summer (rather than winter) that losses of known and loved ducks or geese would occur.

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These losses would occur mostly due to the heavier human activities occurring in the park during the warm seasons. The dangers of carelessly discarded fishing lines (or other tackle), illegal use of lead and off-leash predatory dogs present special hazards to waterfowl in public parks.

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Sure enough, we would not get through this spring without the losses of both, Wiggly and Honker, presumably to dog attacks.

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In May,  a goose was spotted at Harlem Meer with fishing tackle ensnared around her bill.  Although attempt was made to rescue the goose, it failed and she vanished from the Meer a short time later.

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By early summer, there was the additional loss of one of the two domestic ducks at the Boat lake -- also to a probable dog attack.  To this day, her mate survives as a "low status" and now solitary duck.

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And of course, there was the death of Papa goose at the Boat Lake -- this time to a known dog attack and subsequent death to infection from a dog bite.

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I thus predicted that it was extremely unlikely that all four of the domestics ducks at Harlem Meer would ultimately survive the "mean seasons" of spring and summer.

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But, last night I was proved wrong.

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Summer officially ended yesterday and fall has begun.

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Last night, Cochise, Carol, Connie and Conner were all together in their usual places and all were fine.

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They not only survived the "mean seasons," but actually thrived through them.

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How exactly did they do it?

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1-- By constantly staying together through thick and thin and relying upon each other.

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2 -- Learning, adapting, and following the leadership of the more experienced domestic ducks at the Meer, Wiggly and Honker.

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3 -- Letting go of some of their dependence and over-trust upon humans and developing a sense of independence.

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Finally (but no less important), development of awareness and coping strategies for all the challenges and dangers that life in a public park and through the changing seasons  present.

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And while there are no guarantees for the upcoming fall and winter (which, according to the Farmer's Almanac, is supposed to be severe in NYC), I am impressed and proud that Cochise, Conner, Carol and Connie have indeed made it through the "mean seasons."

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To put it mildly and simply, they did good.  -- PCA 

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Life as a Goose a Distant Memory for Cago?

Cago, striking a pose in her new life as seeming supermodel.

Conner, Carol, Connie and Cochise patrolling the duck weed, covered water at Harlem Meer.

The mallards are here!  -- Lots of 'em.

Conner attempting to chase off mallard.

Cago accepting a lettuce hand-out from kind passer-by.

If all the recent photos of Cago, (the lone Canada goose at Harlem Meer in Central Park) look the same, there is reason for that.

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Every time I arrive to the Meer, Cago walks up to me gregariously and literally stares into my eyes in warm greeting.

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Or, perhaps Cago simply enjoys posing for photos and if human, would have been a perfect supermodel.

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Certainly Cago is far easier to photograph than most animas -- including my own dogs. (That is especially true of Tina, my senior Corgi mix, who I have never been able to get look directly into a camera.)

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Still, it seems to be Cago's way to be accommodating and cooperative -- not just with me, but with most people, any visiting geese and what has become over the past few weeks, a huge influx of mallards to Harlem Meer.

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It seems there is some kind of magical Santa Claus who regularly drops by Harlem Meer and dumps duck weed all over the lake.

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A couple of days ago it appeared that most the mallards had done a good job in eating most of the duck weed as it was slowly disappearing.

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But, then yesterday, at least half the lake was covered in the green foilage and the mallards were once again, having an easy feast.

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Santa must have stopped by again!

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But, if Cago is laid back and easy going with all the extra mallard activity, the four domestic ducks are not!

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These days, when seeing Cochise, Carol, Connie and Carol, all four ducks (especially the boys) are mostly busy chasing and attempting to give "bum's rush" to the mallards.

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"Damn, where are all these pesky mallards coming from?" one can almost hear them angrily squawking.

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Though they may appreciate having some mallards around in the winter to help maintain open water, there is little question that the flightless, domestic ducks simply regard the mallards now as "nuisance" invaders of their space (and duck weed)!

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But, if Cochise and company are seeking any "help" from Cago to chase off mallards,  that is simply not happening.  Cago is cool with just about everything at Harlem Meer -- including nearly 200 "invading" mallards.

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(On this note, there is an interesting article today about Canada geese accepting stray white geese into their flock.  Fact is, Canada geese are usually accommodating and accepting of most waterfowl:  http://www.wnypapers.com/news/article/current/2013/09/21/112690/white-geese-mingling-with-canadians)

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What is odd in all this is that one would expect more Canada geese to fly into the Meer with the bountiful supply of duck weed on the water.

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But, that has not been happening.

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This past week, nine geese temporarily flew into the Meer and relaxed on the water for one evening.  

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But the next day they were gone.

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USDA WS, Bloomberg, Gillibrand and the rest of the "powers that be" in NYC have done a fantastic, bang up job in nearly wiping out the resident Canada goose population in the city.

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Cago appears to be a lonely and still surviving symbol of that barbaric program of wildlife destruction.

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One shudders to think what would happen should some plane collide with a flock of flying mallards some day.  

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But, for the moment, the mallards of New York City are still safe from all out massacre and are instead, taking full advantage of "fall fests" of duck weed to fatten up for a long, cold winter ahead. 

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And even the four ticked off domestics at Harlem Meer can't fend them off as they are heavily outnumbered by the mallards.  The domestics should take a page from Cago and just hang back, relax and conserve energy and pose for photos.

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As for Cago, it appears her only hope for eventual life as a goose again might be when migratory geese arrive and perhaps some young, unattached gander takes a shine to her.

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But, for now, Cago seems content to just hang with the ducks and pose for humans with electronic devices.

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"Life as a goose" seems to becoming a distant, nostalgic memory for Cago -- perhaps never to be known or experienced again.  -- PCA

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                                **********

Fading Summer Days and a Goose Whose Name is Loyalty

Conner, Connie, Carol and Cochise, the four domestic ducks at Harlem Meer in Central Park, swimming in the fading summer sun.

Cago, sharing her real name.

First Breaths of Autumn 

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Earlier this spring (following the deaths of two of the domestic ducks at Harlem Meer [Wiggly and Honker] due to suspected dog attacks),  I predicted that the remaining four domestic ducks would not all survive the spring and summer.

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But, with less than a week now remaining of summer, that prediction (thankfully and so far) appears that it might be wrong.

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Remaining tight-knit, cautious and constantly aware, it appears Cochise, Carol, Connie and Conner not only managed to keep themselves safe during the heaviest used times of Central Park, but they also thrived.

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These fading days of summer, with weather starting to cool and human activities somewhat lessoning,  the four flightless ducks are finally starting to venture around the Meer and explore new territories. 

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Perhaps being somewhat annoyed with the flurry of mallards who have recently descended to the eastern part of the Meer (due mostly to abundant duck weed presently there) the domestic ducks have staked out new territory to the western part of the lake and even on the tiny "island" situated in the middle of the water. (I had never seen them go into these areas before.)

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Those mallards who wander into the area are quickly given the bum's rush by Conner and Carol -- the two males of the four domestics. 

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Asserting their hierarchy and top place at the Meer, it's obvious the domestics ducks are feeling confident these days and though forever flightless, are nevertheless, laying down the gauntlet for who will be in charge during the upcoming fall and winter. -- THEM!

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And though summer still has another few days to go, I will be only too happy to again have to admit I was wrong about something.

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Still, I am reminded that it was exactly one year ago, that "Brad," the domestic, Rouen duck who had ruled the Meer for some years, suddenly became ill and took to the middle of the lake, oblivious to all around him.

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Brad died on the last day of summer.

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Though I believe all four domestic ducks are going to make it through the "mean seasons" with (non) flying colors, there is a part of me that is still just a wee bit reserved and uneasy.  

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Never count your duckies 'till they take their first breaths of Autumn.

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Cago:  Her Name is Loyalty.

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Yesterday, when visiting Harlem Mere, Cago was leisurely swimming in the middle of the lake by herself. She appeared to be enjoying the fading rays of the setting sun and perhaps was indulging for a moment, in pleasant memory of days past.  

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Later, when recognizing me near the Dana Center, Cago returned to the embankment and warmly greeted me as she usually does.  A little girl standing beside me with her mom, delighted in how "friendly the duck is."

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"Oh, but she is not a duck!" I replied warmly. "She is a goose and her name is Cago!"

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"How do you know that?" the little girl asked inquisitively.

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"She told me her name and now you too, know the secret!"

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The little girl laughed and smiled, seemingly pleased to know something no one else did.

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"Cago! Cago!   I like Cago!"

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It was a nice moment and one that Cago too, seemed to enjoy.

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A friend has suggested that Cago has not left Harlem Meer with other geese because she is still loyal to and grieving the loss of her mate.

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That is probably true because Cago does appear to be a mature goose and it is likely she did have a mate.

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Thus, though able and willing to befriend new geese, bond and actual attachment is unlikely to occur soon -- if ever for Cago.

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Geese apparently do not replace lost mates easily or perhaps even ever.

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I may have told the little girl, Cago's assigned name, but in reality, her name appears to be loyalty.  -- PCA

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                                ***********

                                                         

 

Tina -- Old Dog and Drama Queen Extraordinaire

Tina -- old dog, but forever the drama queen.

Yesterday was truly harrowing.

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I imagined all kinds of horrors before bringing my older-than-old dog, Tina to the vet.

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(I say, "older than old" because it is not certain exactly how old Tina is. When rescued from Animal Care and Control in 1997 [where she was due to be put down due to Kennel Cough], the shelter indicated Tina to be "5 years-old" -- which would make her 21-years-old now. But, I think Tina was only around 2 at the time, which would make her 18-years-old now. In any event, she's "old.") 

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A few days earlier, Tina had taken a tumble on a few stairs in my building and acted as though the short fall had broken every bone in her body.  Each step was torment!  A walk up the block might as well have been to ends of the earth!

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And so, it was inevitable that I would need to take Tina to my vet as attempts to carry her up or down the stairs were met with piercing shrieks of the most diabolical tortures.

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Surely, something was seriously wrong with Tina!   Surely, my baby,  "Teena Weena" was dying!

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Tina has a couple of small lumps on her.  One on the side of her foot and another on her back. Surely, they are cancer! I thought.  What kind of mommy was I not to address these cancers sooner?

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Guilt, fear and dread totally engulfed yesterday as I contemplated possible demise of my beloved, indestructible and immortal Tina.

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The appointment at the vet was for 7:15 at night.  But, that meant an entire day of self-recriminations, mulling over possible scenarios and dread of decision.

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When Tina finally appeared to be resting, I went online to try and lose myself in the news of the day and blog writing.

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But, the haunting thoughts just kept puncturing and intruding.

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You can't let her suffer the torments of the damned.  You know how Tina panics at the mere thought of a bath!   Remember the time you tried to put a Santa hat on her and Tina nearly ran burst through the wall in sheer terror?

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But, surely, I could not live without Tina!  She and Puppy Boy (my 16-year-old Pomeranian) have been my left and right arms over recent years. Indeed, I practically trip over both dogs anytime getting up from a chair or out of bed.

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All manners of diversion finally failed, the clock neared the dreaded hour and I had to prepare.

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But, I didn't think Tina would be able to walk the five blocks to my vet.   I fancied taking a cab. 

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But, what if no cab stops for me and my disabled 24-pound dog?

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By the time, we finally left the building, it is not clear who was the greater "basket case."  My dog, Tina or me.

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Surprisingly though, I did not have to do battle with NYC taxi cabs.

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Tina "bravely" walked the five blocks to the vet with me.   It was slow going, but going, nonetheless.

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Of course, one is rarely seen immediately when bringing a cat or dog to the vet.

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Tina and I took our place in a crowded waiting room and it was about that time, I began to experience a crushing migraine.

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It felt like someone taking an ax to the right side of my head.

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Tina, meanwhile, acted as though nothing was wrong and curiously checked out other dogs.  Tina generally is OK in waiting rooms -- that is, until she actually gets to the vet.

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I sat stone-faced, with hand massaging the right side of my temple and unable to engage with anyone. All manner of horrifying scenarios still whirling inside my head -- along with the ax -- I wanted to be anyplace else on earth.

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A woman sitting beside me with two constantly yapping and barking West Highland Terriers didn't help matters. What else can go wrong? I wondered.  Meanwhile, Tina was fine with it all.  It was I who was truly suffering and needed some kind of emergency care.

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Finally, after what seemed an eternity, we were called.

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Dr. G. smiled and warmly greeted when Tina and I entered the small examination room. 

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But, apparently remembering Tina from past visits, he called in two young vet assistants.

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After explaining why we were there, Dr. G quipped, "OK, let's get Tina on the table and see what's going on with her."

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It is certain the ear-splitting shrieks from Tina were probably heard in every corner of the globe. And yes, it did require the two vet techs and myself to finally wrestle Tina on the table.

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"She's got a lot of fight for an old dog!" Dr. G remarked and then advised the vet techs to get a muzzle on Tina.  

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That was another struggle that took nearly five minutes.  Tina's shrieks of "MURDER --HELP!!" only subsiding when the muzzle was finally secured.

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One imagines the woman with the two yapping Westies in the waiting room even having to put hands over her ears.

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Though unable to scream and protest anymore through the muzzle, Tina continued to squirm, wiggle and "fight" throughout the entire exam while the vet techs and I valiantly used all our strength to hold her down.

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Dr, G. carefully examined, mouth, ears, temperature, heart and entire body for any signs of serious illness or growths.   

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I pointed out the two small growths on Tina's leg and back, convinced they were cancer.

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"How long has she had them?" Dr. G asked.  "Have they grown or changed?"

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"A long time and no to the second question," I answered.

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"They are probably benign cysts," Dr. G replied.  "We could biopsy, but that would mean putting a needle in her and pulling out cells."

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Considering that Tina was near cardiac arrest on the examination table from sheer obstinacies and protest, both my vet and I nixed that idea.   Just the thought of Tina and needles was completely unfathomable and likely to result in death due to panic attack.

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Finally, the examination completed and all of us totally worn out, Dr. G was unable to find anything seriously wrong with Tina though he noted a "mild, high pitched heart murmur."

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Seems none of us were surprised by that.

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He sent us home with a bottle of "Metacam," a non-steroid, anti-inflammatory drug that is supposed to be helpful to older dogs experiencing the pains of orthro-arthritis, even though Tina wasn't presenting with actual arthritis disease.  

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"This should help Tina, but if it doesn't or she suffers any side effects, stop immediately and bring her back," Dr. G advised -- though the "bring her back" sounded a bit forced and reluctant.

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Somehow, when Tina and I finally left the exam room, I felt like dancing!

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The headache completely gone, I was on top of the world and even joked with the people in the waiting room -- including the woman with the two, yappy Westies!

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"I hope Dr. G still has some energy to deal with your dogs.  He's kind of been put through the wringer with Tina."

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True to Dr. G's prediction, Tina did indeed, "sleep very well" last night.  (It had after all, been a harrowing and horribly traumatic day for her and myself.)

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But, I was so relieved and so happy to just have her there alongside her and my beloved Puppy Boy -- as always.

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Sure, Tina, may be obstinate, uncooperative and the ultimate "drama queen" (unfortunately, not too unlike her caregiver).   But, she is mine, I love her and Tina will live forever!

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And Tina never has to worry about wearing a Santa hat again! (Not that she did, the first time.)  -- PCA

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Cago's Choice -- Her Heart in Harlem Meer

Cago and part of her "adopted" family yesterday at Harlem Meer.

Amidst all the bad news of recent times, including wide spread goose massacres, canned hunting of human raised pheasants, torture of chickens for religious rituals and numerous other animal horrors, it always represents respite and spirit renewal to escape to Central Park and see "my" special ducks and geese living free and peacefully.

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Only these days, I am only seeing one goose in Central Park -- Cago at Harlem Meer.

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It is of course a bit delusional to say geese live "peacefully" in Central Park considering the harassment program that is apparently waged against them most of the year.

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But, compared to other parks around New York City which have been sites of past goose roundups and slaughters, the geese (when they are actually there) have it better at Central Park than most other places.

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And at least one goose is seemingly living the good and peaceful life in Central Park.

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She had opportunity to leave with two other geese she had befriended over the past few weeks. 

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But, for whatever reason, Cago instead, elected to stay at Harlem Meer.  

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One would think such "choice" would not be to the ultimate benefit of a goose who opts to remain solitary as opposed to joining with geese s/he has been accepted by. Geese after all, are "flock" birds whose survival usually depends upon remaining in organized gaggles or pairs.

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But, it seems that regardless of how well Cago befriends or is accepted by other geese, they are ultimately not her family (or mate) and such alliances have so far, been fleeting.

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When the visiting other geese go, Cago strangely remains.

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When she first flew into Harlem Meer in late June (after presumably surviving a USDA WS goose roundup that likely took out her family and/or mate), I felt very sorry for Cago.

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It was sad to see the "lone goose" every night just standing alone on the edge of the little sandy beach at the Meer and staring longingly over the goose-empty water.  

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Everything about Cago then just seemed awash in inconsolable loss and bereavement.

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But, somehow Cago made it through the grief of family loss and stresses of the "molt" (which in her case, came much later than most geese) and during the process, Cago began to make friends at Harlem Meer.

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Cago made human friends and duck friends.

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Wherever Cago originally came from, she was, from the beginning, very acclimated to and trusting of humans. -- Even fishermen.

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It was common to see Cago standing leisurely next to fishermen and people and children picnicking at Harlem Meer.   Nothing appeared to truly "freak Cago out" -- even those off leash dogs who occasionally and rambunctiously chase the waterfowl. 

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Cago just took everything in stride, although with some sense of the necessary caution and wariness that is typical of geese.

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Still, I felt sorry for Cago, not having the company and community of other geese around.

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Following the molt, however, that soon changed at Harlem Meer as small gaggles of geese occasionally arrived and in one case, even a temporarily injured gander ("Toluse").

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But, whether the other geese were harassed out of the Meer or left on their own accord, there was never enough time for Cago to form permanent alliance with them.

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Even Toluse departed as soon as his injured leg healed despite Cago's nurturing and guiding gestures towards him.  (Presumably Toluse left to find his original family or mate.)

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But, when two young geese arrived to the Meer a few weeks ago, it seemed that at last, Cago had real opportunity to form and find new alliance and goose "family!"

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For at least a couple of weeks, the three geese hit it off very well and were almost always observed together.

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But, even that changed more than a week ago when "Goose 2 and Goose 3" suddenly departed and Cago was once again alone. 

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But, Cago is, of course, not really "alone."  She has her adopted family of ducks, humans and even the occasional pigeon or sparrow.

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Nor is Cago a solitary goose now out of circumstance as much as personal choice.

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It seems Cago did form important alliances and attachment over these past few months, but they are apparently to location, other birds and even humans.

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Cago's heart and loyalty -- for better or worse -- is at Harlem Meer.  

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And not even goose harassment can make her go.

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As for me, for totally selfish reasons, I am happy for Cago's seemingly courageous and risky choice though I might question its ultimate wisdom.

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Amidst all the other bad news of the times,  it is always of special happiness and spiritual renewal to experience Cago's warm and happy-to-see-you greetings each day.

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I like to think I am one of the reasons (albeit tiny on the list) Cago elected to stay.

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And no, I don't feel so "sorry" for Cago anymore, as much as grateful and appreciative. Cago is a very special goose, indeed. 

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She is all heart.   -- PCA

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Your Chicken Soon to be "Cooked" in China

 

Your chicken is cooked -- in China. (Photo credit, NY Post)

When reading the NY Post article below the other day, the first thought was that we were going to send US chickens to China for slaughter (i.e. "processing") in order to evade so-called, "Humane Slaughter" laws in this country.

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 http://nypost.com/2013/09/15/schumer-blasts-usdas-decision-to-allow-us-chicken-processing-in-china/

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Senator Chuck Schumer (D-NY) called a press conference to rightfully question and criticize the USDA decision to allow Chinese processed chickens to be exported back to the US for human consumption as presumably we might expect "arsenic, ground rats, glass chips or maggots" to be part of the feast.  

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However, not being a chicken consumer, my first thought was the so-called "welfare" of the chickens presumably destined for slaughter on the other side of the world.   Why did Schumer not question or criticize this?

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So, this morning I called Senator Schumer's office in Washington to ask some questions.

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The young woman who answered the phone looked on the USDA's web site and informed me that the chickens "would be slaughtered in this country" and sent to China for "cooking."

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"Cooking?" I asked incredulously.  "But, that doesn't make sense!  Do we not have cooks in this country?"

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Not believing what I was hearing, I requested a direct number for USDA.

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Another young woman answered the phone at USDA, meat processing and inspection.

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"According to a law passed by the Congress, companies that slaughter the chickens here have the option to send them to China (or other countries) for cooking and export back to this country. But, we do not import chickens raised and slaughtered in China to this country."

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Totally stunned by what I was being told, I replied, "This makes no sense!   When USDA Wildlife Services rounds up geese in New York City and says that they send the geese upstate for 'processing,' they are not referring to cooking the geese, they are talking about  slaughter facilities!"

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"This is the information I have," came the reply.

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"So companies here would spend the money for proscessing, packaging, freezing and transportation to and from the other side of the world for COOKING?  Does this make any sense to you?"

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"As said, they have the option to do that, it is not a requirement," the woman replied without answering the direct question.

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I cannot of course prove that the women at Schumer's office or USDA were deliberately  lying to me.  Obviously, they were simply reading information from a web site.

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But, it makes no sense that we would spend huge sums of money on export and import around the world for the mere sake of "cooking" as much as it would make sense to send live chickens to China in order to avoid the high costs of labor in this country for slaughter,"processing" and "cooking," as well as avoid US humane slaughter laws.

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Either way, it makes good material for Leno, Letterman or Stewart.

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Unfortunately for the chickens, it is simply more tyranny and exploitation.

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Ah, for the sake of cheap meat! 

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And finally, on that somber note, there is also this article today from the New York Times on the overuse of antibiotics in this country and how that is resulting in antibiotic resistant diseases and infections:

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http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/17/health/cdc-report-finds-23000-deaths-a-year-from-antibiotic-resistant-infections.html?smid=fb-share

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From the article:

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"One point of contention has been the extent to which industrial-scale animal farming contributes to the problem of antibiotic-resistant infections in humans. The government has estimated that more than 70 percent of antibiotics in the United States are given to animals. Companies use them to prevent sickness when animals are packed together in ways that breed infection. They also use them to make animals grow faster, though federal authorities are trying to stop that."

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We had better be sure that whether alive or dead, those chickens sent to and back from China for "cooking" are fully loaded with antibiotics -- including those that can deal with arsenic, insecticides, ground rats, glass chips and maggots. -- PCA

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New York's Canned Hunt of 30,000 Human Raised Pheasants

The "release" of 30,000 pheasants raised by humans to open hunting areas is like releasing the domestic ducks of Central Park to the wilds of New York State during hunting season. -- A canned hunt essentially.

A particularly disturbing piece of news this past week (though not covered by general media) is this press release from the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation:

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A New NYSDEC Press Release Has Been Issued: DEC Announces Release of Pheasants

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http://blog.syracuse.com/outdoors/2013/09/dec_releasing_30000_pheasants.html

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According to the release, approximately, 30,000 pheasants will be "released" as targets for youthful and other hunters on public lands open for hunting this October.

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The pheasants are part of, "The Day-Old Pheasant Chick Program" in which (this year) more than 41,000 chicks were distributed at only one day old to 4-H clubs and hunters in May or June to be raised, cared for and fed. Then, when fully grown a few months later, the presumably, semi-tame birds are "released" as easy targets for hunters' guns.

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Though the press release doesn't say, this is tantamount to what is usually referred to as a "canned hunt."

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Chicks raised by humans one day from hatching surely imprint on humans and additionally have learned nothing from natural bird parents regarding survival in the wild or avoidance of hunters' guns.

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This would be like releasing the domestic ducks in Central Park to the wilds of New York State during hunting season.  The ducks would walk up to hunters expecting food handouts and instead be met with bullets.

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One needs to seriously question a program like this and its supposed "need."

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Are there not enough wild pheasants for hunters to shoot at?

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This seems strange considering that in FY 2012,  USDA Wildlife Services deliberately killed 508 pheasants presumably because the birds were causing a "nuisance" somewhere.

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http://www.aphis.usda.gov/wildlife_damage/prog_data/2012_prog_data/PDR_G/Basic

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One would think that even "real hunters" would be opposed to a program like this as there is nothing "sportsmen" about it.

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There is no figuring out of flight paths, birds flying patterns or even how the winds are blowing.

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Just get out there with a gun and wait for the human-raised pheasants to be "released."  --Birds who have no idea where they are or where to go and what to do.

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One has to wonder how many, if any of the pheasants will actually fly?  One can only imagine a bloodbath as the "sitting pheasants" try to figure out a new environment while bullets fly all around them.

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Of course pheasants aren't the only birds to be captively raised by humans and then released into the wilds.

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The ancestors of our so-called, "resident" Canada goose population also were.  

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But, in that case, the capture, wing clipping, breeding and later release of thousands of Canada geese raised by humans was supposedly done to prevent the birds from actually going extinct.  -- A scenario not acceptable to hunters who regard geese as a favorite target.  (Hunting clubs were largely involved in the breeding, raising and later release of thousands of Canada geese in order to restore a hunting population).

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Geese raised and released by humans were however, quite different from those wild geese making the thousand mile migratory journeys twice a year to and from the Arctic or Canada.

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The America-raised geese had no instincts to "migrate" places they had never been and were not hatched.

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Moreover, these human imprinted geese were quite comfortable around and acclimated to humans.

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It was not a hard leap for then for them to escape the hunter "guns of Autumn" by taking up "residence" in urban parks, golf courses or sports fields where hunting is generally not permitted. These geese (unlike their wild counterparts) had little if any natural fear of humans.

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Of course, some 50 odd years later, these same resident geese are now considered "nuisance" in many urban parks and states across the country and are targeted by federal, state and local agencies for "culls" and nearly constant harassment and egg destruction.

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Unlike the thousands of geese however, who were initially released in order to "restore" population (and therefore not immediately hunted), the pheasants are not being released for "restoration" purposes, but rather as immediate hunting targets.

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There is no time for the pheasants to figure anything out or escape to urban parks or golf courses.

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They are simply targets in a canned hunt program.

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That the canned hunt "program" is partially funded by our tax dollars ("All release sites for pheasants provided by state funded programs are opened to hunting.") merely adds public insult to injury.

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The "Day-Old Pheasant Chick Program" is only part of a wider initiative by current Governor of New York State, Andrew Cuomo to further promote hunting and fishing in the state.  From the press release:

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"Governor Cuomo's NY Open for Hunting and Fishing Initiative is an effort to improve recreational activities for in-state and out-of-state sportsmen and sportswomen and to boost tourism opportunities throughout the state. This initiative includes the streamlining of hunting and fishing licensing and reducing license fees, improved access for fishing at various sites across the state, and increasing hunting opportunities in various regions." 

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Funny, that in the promotional commercials on TV, they don't show 12-year-old kids blowing bullet holes through human imprinted pheasants.

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The number to leave messages for our Governor is (518) 474-8390.

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Please let Governor Cuomo know what you think of "The Day-Old Pheasant Chick Program" and other canned hunting activities likely disguised by the lofty language of "New York Open for Hunting and Fishing."  

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No semi-tame animals needs targets on their heads, paid for with our tax dollars. There is little chance for these pheasants to make any kind of escape as is possible in actual, so-called, "sport hunting."

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This is simply New York's version of the Pennsylvania Pigeon Shoots -- though with far less publicity and protest.  -- PCA

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