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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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