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"Good advice that you just didn't take." (Such is line from the Alanis Morissette song, "Isn't it Ironic?")
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I recall years ago, my daughter telling me more than once, "Mom, when you're picking up something heavy, you need to use your legs, not your back!"
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The advice was a million miles away when picking up a heavy bag last week and suddenly feeling the vertebrae in my back depart and go someplace else.
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I was good for nothing the rest of the week as the pain was so incredible as to make the simple acts of tying a shoe lace or picking something up from the floor intolerable.
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This impacted especially my relationship with animals.
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I have two elderly, 20 lb dogs (Tina, who is nearly 21-years-old and Chance who is 17) who both need to be carried up the stairs when taken for a walk. Fortunately, there is only one flight of stairs to climb to my apartment, but it might as well be ten.
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The past week has been comprised of trying to figure minimally painless ways to pick puppy pads up from the floor (deep knee bends) and moving as little as possible. This also meant drastically curtailing time spent in front of computer as it felt like all the bones in my spine were crushingly compressing.
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When people talk of "back pain" it is truly nothing to sneeze at, was quickly learned the hard way and literally. A few nights ago, when feeling momentarily better, I suddenly sneezed and once again, the vertebrae suddenly departed and I was back to square one -- or more precisely, back in bed (and not in fun way).
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Lucky for me, a couple of very good friends came by on Saturday to help supply with pet food, Advil and even walk my dogs.
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From there, the road to recovery has been slow and delicate, but steady -- to the point, I am finally able to write a blog entry today without experiencing the tortures of the damned.
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But, what has been most interesting throughout this ordeal was the way I was seemingly able to "train my" few remaining geese at the Jackie Onassis Reservoir in Central Park to come to me, rather than me going to them. (One of the other things that had to be drastically curtailed were daily walks in the park as anything more than a half hour of standing or walking was excruciating.)
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Virtually all of the 25 geese who molted at the Reservoir over the past 6 to 7 weeks departed as of this past week. (This, despite my feeding them throughout the molt.) The only three geese remaining now are the family, Hansel, Greta and their two-month-old gosling, Remy.
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Remy is of course, not able to fly yet (and won't be for at least another month) and so the family, for all intents and purposes is rooted to the Reservoir for now -- though certainly not always together.
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As has been the case from day one of her hatching, the independent Remy still likes to wander and explore on her own and her hippie-like, modern goose parents still give her free reign to do so. I have given up all hope that this particularly goose family will ever be "normal," but at least during my personal week of physical trial and tribulation, they were more than accommodating and seemingly empathetic.
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Wherever they are on the Reservoir when I arrive each evening, the family quickly hurries over when seeing me, the daddy of the group, even flying towards my face one night.
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I barely need to walk far beyond the 90th Street entrance to the park and that has been (and is) huge relief. (Who says geese aren't aware and compassionate to human needs?)
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I am also hugely relieved that Hansel and Greta didn't just up and take off with all the other geese and leave their one surviving baby behind. While they may not be the most attentive and dedicated goose parents ever seen, they at least have some sense of parental duty and responsibility.
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Remy is growing very fast now and her colors rapidly changing to look more like a goose, though still at the "awkward" (all neck and legs) stage. She is a little bigger than the mallards now and sometimes appears that she thinks herself a mallard by frequently swimming with them. Sadly, there were no other surviving goslings at the Reservoir this summer and as noted, all the other geese have left. So, perhaps it is not too surprising, the seeming "kinship" between Remy and the ducks. Remy's parents, though devoted to each other, are very "wings off" and minimalist regarding their surviving child. Hopefully and presumably, they will at least teach Remy how to fly when the time comes.
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In other good news, "Lilly," the goose who had to be rescued from the Central Park Boat Lake last month has recovered at The Wild Bird Fund from lead poisoning and malnutrition and is ready for release.
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Rita, Director of WBF, called a couple of days ago and we discussed Lilly's release.
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While normally birds are released to the site they were rescued from, in this particular case, decision was made for Lilly to go to an estate upstate where hopefully she will survive better than she was at the Boat Lake in CP. Lilly was a "loner" goose at the Boat Lake (without mate or flock) and was subjected to all kinds of stress and harassment (dogs, fishing, boats, hostile people and Geese Police) and its unlikely the goose family presently there with two goslings would warmly welcome her. According to Rita, the estate is very peaceful and safe and there are other geese who hopefully will eventually accept Lilly.
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I later discussed this decision with Liliana (Lilly's rescuer) and she too agreed that, under the circumstances, Lilly was better off going to the estate as her brief stint at the Boat Lake nearly culminated in her death. The fact was, as a loner goose, Lilly simply wasn't doing well there, despite Liliana's monitoring and care. Geese are flock birds who need other geese.
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There are unfortunately, few places in NYC these days that welcome any geese at all -- including regrettably, Central Park. It was a tough and difficult decision, but we all believe in the particular case of Lilly, the right one.
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So, all and all, an eventful week.
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Now flighted geese leaving their molting locations to gather and prepare for fall migrations, growing goslings changing colors and just beginning to sprout wings that will later take them on exciting adventures and slow and delicate healing for an old lady and a loner goose.
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One learns gratitude during times like these. Gratitude to good friends, "empathetic" geese and to those dedicated and talented people who know how to take an animal from the brink of death to "going to the door" in search of freedom and release.
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On the latter note, please support The Wild Bird Fund for without it, thousands of birds (and other wildlife) in peril would have no place to go in NYC for treatment and expert, tender care:
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As for this "old lady" in recovery, I will better remember the words of the Alanis Morissette song (and my daughter) when lifting heavy items and gratefully walk my dogs tonight. --PCA
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