Odd Marriage

Fall has arrived.

 

The leaves now blowing and falling from trees like huge, golden snowflakes.  Many of the trees rendered into winter, skeleton forms.

 

Cooler weather over the past couple of days has seemingly rendered the mallards of Harlem Meer into more serious, "get down to business form" as opposed to more flighty, feather pecking, chasing ways of warmer days.

 

The ducks realize now they are going to have to concentrate on eating heartily over next few weeks and conserving energy.   Winter doesn't allow for a whole lot of shenanigans.

 

But, last night, when first arriving to Harlem Meer, I could not see any ducks at all!  They were not swimming in the usual southern part of the lake. Nor, could I see any on the western portion of the Meer.

 

Don't tell me the ducks have been harassed out of here!"

 

It is unfortunate that the first thought when noticing "missing" ducks or geese is harassment, but experience has a way of altering one's normal thought patterns.

 

The fact is that Central Park used goose (and other waterfowl) harassment up until December 16th of last year.   And it was only halted then through the rest of the winter due to (my) complaint.

 

But, as matters turned out last night, the usual and initial suspicion was unwarranted. 

 

I set out to look for Brad, the flightless Rouen duck who usually finds and greets me within a few minutes of my arriving to the Meer.

 

But, after ten minutes, Brad did not show up.  So I began with my dogs to walk towards the eastern part of Harlem Meer, which is normally blocked from view by trees and winding park paths.

 

Turning the corner of one of the pedestrian paths, shock and happy surprise immediately greeted!

 

There they are!

 

Almost all the Harlem Meer ducks were lazily congregated around -- can it really be? -- FOUR Canada geese!

 

Yep, there in the middle of what appeared to be a peaceful assembly of about 50 mallards, were four beautiful, migratory Canada geese.

 

I say, "migratory" because the small family of geese were immediately wary of my and my dog's presence and moved skittishly towards the middle of the lake.

 

However, Brad and some of the mallards, recognizing me, came immediately swimming in my direction.

 

"Ah, I see you guys are hanging with the geese tonight!  OK, smart move. I get it."

 

Smiling, but not wanting to spook the geese any further, I turned back towards the western part of the Meer, while motioning a hand to Brad and the others to follow.

 

Amazingly, like a trained dog, Brad followed, swimming in the water with a small group of "die-hard" mallards behind him.

 

By the time we all arrived to the usual embankment where Brad and the mallards are used to getting their treats, there were a dozen duck pals with him.

 

I thought it very interesting however, that most of the 50 or so mallards, despite knowing me, elected to stay with the geese.

 

Security and momentary happiness is apparently more important to most mallards than food treats.

 

Hopping up on the embankment and grabbing a few handfuls of nuts, seeds and corn from my hand, Brad then returned to the water and started to swim back in the direction of the other mallards and the four visiting geese.

 

I tossed most of the other treats to the dozen mallards and then, with my dogs, followed Brad back to where most of the mallards and geese were congregated.

 

Careful to walk very slowly as not to scare the migratory geese, I tossed the remaining treats to the edge of a bank where some mallards came to grab them.

 

One of the geese looked at me curiously, but, apparently more at ease than the first time, the geese remained where they were and did not attempt to flee.

 

Geese seem to pick up the "vibe" of an area and very quickly learn what to be fearful of and what not. Its probable the geese take some of their cues from the mallards -- as the mallards apparently take security from them.

 

As I left Harlem Meer, I felt very happy to once again experience this beautiful picture of "normalcy" at the lake -- ducks and geese peacefully together. It is a kind of odd marriage between two waterfowl species, who though not always loving or needing each other to survive, definitely seem happier and more secure when together.

 

Walking home through the slightly chilling winds and tossed, falling leaves, I thought about the oncoming winter.

 

Brad and the mallards certainly  have thick layers of down on them this year, (giving a "bigger" appearance than normal), to get through the bitter, cold days.

 

But, they rarely have any geese for security measures, early warning systems or even to help keep open water.

 

For the few times seeing any geese at all in Central Park over the past three months, they have always been in tiny, family groups and rarely stayed beyond a day or two (except for the six weeks of molting and flightlessness).

 

In fact at no time since last spring have I ever seen more than ten geese together in any one location of Central Park.

 

For a species of bird that usually migrates in large flocks of 30 or more this is more than concerning.

 

I wonder if the mallards realize they are slowly losing their partners in brine?

 

An "odd marriage" indeed.

 

But, one that is inexorably being ripped apart, not by dissention or disharmony of the partners themselves, but outside, human forces.

 

Still, at least for last night, the marriage, without human interference, came briefly together again.  And that was very beautiful and pleasing to see.

 

A few blissful moments of happiness and security for the ducks.

 

So happy, that most mallards elected to stay with the geese last night -- even to forego the temporary pleasure of their nightly treats. 

 

It was perfectly understandable. 

 

The interconnection and odd marriages of species, that is.

 

I am hoping that this small family of four geese might stay a while at the Meer.

 

But, I know that won't occur.

 

Perhaps that is why the mallards hung on with the geese so tightly last night.

 

Yes, I believe the mallards understand all too well, the threat this "odd marriage" is truly under.

 

The mallards have to appreciate what they have for the brief times they have it again.  -- PCA 

 

 

                                                                     *******

 

 

Writing on the Wall

Almost as soon as they arrived, the 7 migratory geese seen on the Reservoir in Central Park a few nights ago departed.

 

Presumably, the Reservoir served as a brief resting stop for the traveling birds before moving on.

 

Admittedly, it is a little early for any CP wintering geese or mallards to be settling down on the Reservoir.

 

That usually occurs in December when most of the park's lakes and ponds freeze over.

 

However, it is disconcerting (to say the least) that apparently only 7 migratory geese have landed in the Reservoir (even temporarily) in the almost seven weeks since the fall began.

 

One cannot help but wonder if most are simply being blown out of the skies by hunters while trying to make their way over the Atlantic flyway during fall migrations?

 

As noted so many times in this journal, nothing is "normal" over the past year or two.

 

I remember last year being concerned over the low number of Canada geese wintering in the Reservoir as compared to past years.

 

But, at the time I attributed the anemic numbers to a rougher than normal winter and the fact most of the Reservoir had frozen over.

 

And yet, there were a normal number of wintering mallards in the Reservoir last year.

 

I now believe that the Canada goose population in NY state has been decimated by both the expanded hunting seasons and the seemingly never ending goose massacres conducted in NYC metro area by the USDA for the past 8 years or so.

 

As smart and resilient as the geese normally are, they simply cannot survive this all out assault on their species.

 

I am most worried over the city's and USDA's goose "plans" for next year in NYC.

 

That is, to round whatever geese still remain "within 7 miles of an airport" and send for slaughter in NYC.

 

Despite phone calls and multiple letters, we still have not been informed of where NYC geese were sent this past summer for slaughter in Pennsylvania.

 

Obviously, the USDA is unwilling to share what should be public information with either the media or the people.

 

One has to wonder of the reasons for the hiding and secrecy?

 

"Those who have nothing to hide, hide nothing."

 

If the arguments for goose "euthanasia" via gassings are bogus, (geese being high flying migratory birds are able to retain oxygen levels far longer than mammals and therefore take a long time to die in gas chambers) the ones for slaughter and "donation to food banks" are even more insidious -- and potentially health and life threatening to humans.

 

There are laws that restrict and ban the slaughtering of wild caught birds in establishments that "process" other meats due to fears of bacterial contamination.

 

The 575 geese and goslings captured from NYC properties this year only yielded 424 lbs of "edible meat."   (less than one pound per bird, despite fact that a typical Canada goose weighs 10 lbs.)

 

Although the USDA claims the NYC geese were "tested" by PA for lead and other contaminants, they say nothing about bacterial testing.  It can cost up to $200.00 to fully and properly test one goose for all possible contaminants and bacterial types and levels. But, such testing would render the geese cost prohibitive for consideration of a proper and safe food source for distribution to humans -- especially for the small amounts of "edible meat" they actually produce.

 

Another thing to investigate is how much profit per bird any "processing plant" makes from slaughtering the geese?  (Financial incentives and profit motivations for killing geese.)

 

There are in fact, many questions to ask about the 575 geese sent to PA this past summer for so-called, processing for "food donations" before moving on with more planned slaughters .

 

Obviously little actual "food" was obtained from the slain geese and the (taxpayer) costs for roundups, transportation, slaughter, processing and so-called, "testing" would seemingly make this 424 lbs of "edible goose meat" the most expensive food on the planet -- perhaps next to truffles and Russian cavier.

 

But, we don't donate Russian cavier to food banks nor are we serving wild caught, city park Canada geese (i.e. "roadkill") at "Le Cirque" or other fine restaurants.

 

Should the poor people partaking of the "goose meat" get sick, who is even to know?

 

Presumably, most don't have quality health insurance. They are likely to suffer in silence and simply hope they get better.

 

Nevertheless, the bottom line is that instead of asking important questions or getting forthright answers to the ones already asked, we are simply moving ahead with next year's plans to round up remaining NYC geese and spin them off to the same old PR ploys and rationalizations for slaughter.

 

It seems that once in an area, the USDA is entrenched and all the profit wheels, secrecy and media "spins" are put into full blown motion.

 

Unless seriously and successfully challenged, the city of NY and the USDA will not halt its goose "removal" (i.e. eradication) programs until every last NYC goose is dead. 

 

The writing is on the wall.

 

But, not only for the resident geese still magically surviving in NYC, but even the migratory geese, as well.

 

Six weeks into the fall and only 7 migratory geese observed stopping over in CP.

 

It was announced on the news today that the African Black Rhino just went extinct. That was due to decades of human poaching.

 

It is projected that by the end of this century, half the species on earth will go extinct.

 

It seems from all happening now, Canada geese will be among them, as much as some may laugh at that.

 

After all, there used to be hundreds of millions of passenger pigeons. They went extinct in the early part of the last century.

 

Yes, the writing is on the wall, not just for African Black Rhinos, but our beloved geese as well.  -- PCA

 

 

                                                                  ********

 

Life Restored

Following the stunning news of my next door neighbor's death yesterday, (see previous entry) I looked forward to Central Park last night.  Perhaps more as means of temporarily escaping morbid thoughts of regret and denial than anything else.

 

Indeed, the mood was somber when entering the park.

 

But, walking along the darkened Reservoir, my gaze suddenly fell on what appeared to be bird forms far off in the water.

 

At first I thought, "ducks," but the shadows appeared bigger than what would be expected with mallards.

 

A closer look and I could make out long dark necks silhouetted against the backdrop of city lights. 

 

Seven Canada geese gliding slowly in a perfectly straight line similar to what a family of geese normally swims in the water.

 

Oh my God....they're here!  Some of the migratory geese have finally made it through the hail of bullets!

 

(Yes, I unfortunately always consider the stresses of hunting when noting migratory geese that miraculously make it to the temporary safety of Central Park in spring or fall.)

 

I stood for a few moments relishing the beautiful and tranquil sight far off in the distance.

 

Yes, there is still hope left in the world. Nature finds way to prevail, despite everything.

 

Feeling spiritually lifted after seeing what were the first geese on the Reservoir since the summer, I continued on the journey to Harlem Meer thinking about the scene just witnessed.

 

I was quite sure the Reservoir geese were migratory as opposed to "resident" for the simple reason that resident geese typically gather at Harlem Meer in the fall.  

 

By contrast, migratory geese usually land at the Reservoir as the famous landmark named after Jackie O rarely freezes entirely over in winter and thus attracts migratory ducks and geese.   Sometimes migratory geese also take brief rest stops at the Great Lawn or North Meadow in Central Park and occasionally one sees a few drop by at Harlem Meer over the winter (provided there is any open water).

 

The first sighting of migratory geese in the park is, to me, sure and actual sign of seasonal change and flow, even though "fall" was officially marked on the calendar weeks ago.

 

Central Park was, last night, resumed to the normal activities of jogging and cycling that had been notably missing over the past few days due to Sunday's marathon.

 

More runners, more cyclists, more police patrols.

 

Perhaps it was due to greater human activities, that I didn't see the family of raccoons that I had gotten spoiled in seeing for the past 4 nights in a row.

 

But, Brad and the mallards were in their usual spots at Harlem Meer and came to greet me routinely.  I knew immediately that no geese were at the Meer because all of the ducks were in the water when I arrived.  (When geese are present, many of the ducks will daringly camp out along the grassy embankments.)

 

Similar to the park drives, Harlem Meer was noisier and more active last night than the previous few nights.

 

Dogs running around and barking on the other side of the lake, some people walking about, sirens in the distance.

 

For some reason too, the ducks were more "normal."

 

Not quite so easily spooked, the resident mallards at Harlem Meer are apparently so used to noise and human activity that it seems if things are too quiet, they freak out with the "abnormalness" of it and bolt at nothing (especially with no geese around).

 

Last night, the ducks weren't bolting.  If anything, some of the drakes seemed somewhat embolden by the flurry of activities and bullied up a bit on other ducks, particularly females.

 

I have always maintained that geese represent the qualities that humans should aspire to, whereas ducks represent what most humans actually are.

 

There is a lot of hierarchy, feather pecking and "oneupsmanship" among mallards. It seems too that the most loquacious and conversational mallards are the ones who are usually at the top of sphere. -  The loud ones "rule," so to speak, the rest.

 

I remember how Brad and Angelina used to be the loudest and most talkative ducks of the entire Meer. Their mouths always going, it seemed neither one was ever at loss for "words."

 

But, these days -- months after Angelina's mysterious disappearance  -- Brad barely "talks" at all.

 

In fact, the only times I have seen Brad actually chirping and chattering is when geese are at the Meer.  But, that is, (as noted) extremely rare in recent months.

 

I feel bad for Brad for this reason.

 

Although bigger and more "street wise" than the mallards, Brad's duck "status" has greatly been diminished since the loss of Angelina.

 

He is indeed, the "lone duck" at the Meer.  And aloneness doesn't seem to rate in either the mallard or geese communities.

 

Finally tossing the last of the treats to Brad and pals, I left the Meer with the ducks comically following.

 

I sometimes wonder if this departing gesture is as sweet and endearing as it seems or whether the ducks are simply demanding more treats?

 

But, actually I do believe it to be the former.  I know for a fact, Brad isn't hungry when following me to bid goodnight.

 

Walking home by way of the Reservoir again, I peered into the water and was surprised to see the geese once more.

 

But, this time the 7 migratory geese were casually swimming in the opposite direction.

 

But, in the same beautiful and perfectly symmetrical, straight line.

 

Ah, the first sighting of migratory geese in the park!

 

The sure and actual sign of seasonal change and flow, as well as the ebbs of death and life renewed.

 

How ironic that this lovely image and proof of life restored occurred on a day of otherwise loss and regret. -- PCA

 

 

                                                           ********** 

 

A Lesson in Humility

Yesterday, I felt I was living a scene directly out of "Sex and the City.".

 

But, not the kind of scene one normally associates with the mostly humorous TV series about life, friendships, love and sex in NYC......

 

I received a phone call yesterday afternoon.

 

"Hi, my name is Denise.  I am fostering and considering keeping, one of the cats from Cheryl. The cat was supposed to have been spayed, but she's not.  I was told your organization would pay for the spay."

 

"That can't be!" I answered, somewhat taken aback by the call.  "All the vetting was done on Cheryl's five cats. She assured me she had taken all of them in for neutering."

 

"Well, the cat went into heat recently. She kept me awake all night with the calling. She is not spayed."

 

"I can't believe Cheryl failed to do neuter in all this time!  Those cats were rescued two years ago!"

 

"Cheryl died last week."

 

Stunned, I was suddenly transported back to a TV scene:

 

Carrie Bradshaw telling her Russian boyfriend that her friend, Samantha has breast cancer, but she is going to be OK.

 

"Ah, that is too bad," the lover answers somberly.  "My friend had breast cancer many years ago.  She died."

 

"Why are you telling me that?" Carries asks suddenly stunned and deflated.

 

"Because I don't want you to be disappointed or surprised."

 

"Don't tell me!"

 

I wanted to say the same exact words to Denise.   "Why are you telling me that?  Don't tell me!"

 

But, of course, I couldn't.

 

Instead, feeling like the air had just been sucked out of me, "Oh my God.....I didn't know.....had no idea.....that is so awful...."

 

Indeed, hearing that my next door neighbor had just died from breast cancer, was the very last thing in the world I expected.  The thought had never even crossed my mind.-- Though perhaps it should have.....

 

I knew of course that Cheryl had been recently sick.

 

Surgery a couple of months ago, radiation and chemotherapy.

 

The last time I saw Cheryl about a month ago, she was weak, debilitated and required a visiting nurse.  But, we both attributed that to the effects of chemo.

 

Our conversation was mostly about the placement of her five cats because, according to Cheryl, the Visiting Nurse Service would not come with animals in the home.

 

"That is not true," my friend and cat fosterer, Elizabeth told me later when asked to foster one of Cheryl's cats. "Their web site says nothing about not coming to homes with pets."

 

"Well, whether it does or not, Cheryl's cats need to be placed," I told Elizabeth.. "She can't care for them.  She needs a wheelchair to get around."

 

Since the one cat Elizabeth had been fostering was recently adopted, she was able and thankfully willing to take in one of Cheryl's cats.

 

Cheryl assured me she had foster or adoptive placement for the other four cats.

 

One of them apparently was the woman named Denise on the phone with me yesterday.

 

Lost and reeling in the news of Cheryl's death, I told Denise I would call my vet to arrange payment for the spay.  But I still couldn't seemingly grasp or fully absorb the news I had been told.

 

Indeed, I thought my greatest challenge with Cheryl would be dissuading her from getting a dog once the cats were placed as she had indicated she was planning to do.

 

"I am really a dog person." Cheryl told me more than a month ago.  "I  want to get another dog at some point. I never wanted all these cats."  (At the time, I was pissed with Cheryl considering she was giving up all her cats.)

 

Unfortunately, the relationship between myself and Cheryl had never really been one of friendship, despite us being around the same age, unattached and long time, cordial neighbors.

 

Cheryl seemed to blame me for the fact she had five cats and I likewise held her responsible for not aiding me in getting the feral mother from the backyard of our building spayed two years ago before having the second litter of 5 kittens.

 

Cheryl was one of the two feeders of the 4 stray cats behind our building.

 

Although I had taken in a previous litter of kittens, vetted, fostered and adopted them out, I warned Cheryl and the other feeder two years ago, that I was getting out of animal rescue and wouldn't take in any more kittens or cats.   It was important for both feeders to work with me to get the remaining cats in the yard neutered.  That meant not feeding them for a day so they would be hungry enough to walk in a humane trap.

 

But, while the other feeder cooperated with the non-feeding for a day, Cheryl did not.  She was under the illusion that kittens were "easy to place" and that Bideawee or one of the other no-kill shelters would "readily take them."   I repeatedly warned Cheryl that was not the case, but she apparently did not believe me.

 

My attempts to thus trap the two female cats failed because they were never hungry.  One of them subsequently gave birth to a second litter of five kittens.

 

Totally frustrated and downright angry, I then insisted that Cheryl take in and foster the kittens.  I promised help with the expenses of vetting and neutering.

 

So that is how Cheryl ended up with five cats. And though her original fantasy was that no-kill shelters would take them, she found out, (as warned) that reality was very different from what appears on web sites or brochures. 

 

Meanwhile, through the cooperation of the other neighbor and feeder, I was able to eventually trap, spay and release the remaining feral cats, including the mama kitty. Two years later, the 4 sterilized cats are happy, healthy and well fed by the other feeder.

 

But, the relationship between Cheryl and myself remained cordial, but somewhat strained over the past two years.

 

That is, until two months ago when learning that Cheryl had a return bout of breast cancer and needed some help with caring for and placing the remaining cats.

 

I just never considered that this bout of breast cancer would be deadly -- and deadly so fast.. (I personally know two other women who have had breast cancer and both are fine today.)

 

According to Denise, Cheryl had been lax and in "denial" about following up on protocols and things she needed to do as a previous breast cancer survivor. That may be, but did anyone expect this?  Apparently, this cancer had been discovered too late....

 

Following the stunning call from Denise yesterday, I called my vet to confirm payment for the upcoming spay appointment.  But, their records also show "Missy" the cat had previously been spayed. (Evidently, there is some kind of mix-up or some organ was accidentally left in tact.)

 

Then, I was forced to sit down and actually contemplate my relationship with Cheryl.

 

And unfortunately, the very last conversation with Cheryl about two weeks ago is one to be regretted now.

 

Little things, little annoyances.

 

I was pissed because Cheryl instructed one of her helpers to leave a half bag of unused cat litter outside my door.

 

At first, I placed the litter back in front of her door.

 

But, the next day it was in front of mine again.

 

I then called Cheryl.

 

"Cheryl, I don't appreciate things left in front of my door!   I told you I don't use this brand of litter but even if I did, one should call and ask if something is wanted and not just assume or dump!"

 

Cheryl apologized and assured that the litter would be properly discarded. She sounded fine and chipper over the phone.  I then told Cheryl that the kitty Elizabeth was fostering was doing fine and there was nothing to worry over.  But, I still reiterated the stuff about not leaving the litter in front of the door again........

 

The following day, I felt somewhat guilty and regretful over the call. I considered calling Cheryl again to perhaps apologize for being so harsh, but decided against it.

 

After all, I would inevitably speak with and see Cheryl again.

 

"Cheryl died last week."

 

And just like the scene from the TV show.

 

"Don't tell me that."

 

Who am I to be critical of others for being in "denial," living in "fantasyland" or making assumptions when I am perhaps the one most guilty of these things?

 

A sad, sad lesson in humility.

 

That only I could say now, "I am so sorry, Cheryl."    -- PCA

 

 

                                                             ********

 

"Occupy Harlem Meer!"

I was seemingly witness to and part of an "Occupy" movement last night.

 

But, it was nowhere near Zuccotti Park.

 

Once again, the ducks behaved very strangely last night at Harlem Meer.

 

Very active and seemingly "charged up," constant chattering and an unusual degree of feistiness.   I almost expected a group of the mallards to sit in a corner and play drums.

 

But, most noticeable was the once again, bolting back into the water -- as if shot out of cannons -- at absolutely nothing.

 

In less than the blink of an eye, all 30 or so ducks, (including, Brad) would be on the grass one second and in the water the next, the action so splittingly fast, that it was the beyond the human eye to actually detect.

 

Aside from the ducks, my dogs and me, there wasn't another living soul around.  I wondered what in the hell was freaking out the birds?  I looked up in the sky.  But, the moon wasn't quite full and nor were there many planes flying overhead.  Things were exceptionally quiet at the Meer last night.

 

The first two times this happened, the ducks would calm down after a minute or two and return to the grassy embankment.

 

But, the third time, something unusual occurred.

 

Instead of waiting and returning to the grass, the ducks formed an assembly in the water.

 

They gathered in a large, circular group and an active, lively discussion followed..

 

At first, many mallard voices were participating.  But, after a while, it seemed that one voice -- a little distinctive from the rest --was dominating the conversation.

 

One could almost imagine the speech -- and ensuing dialogue and debate:

 

"Look, guys, we need to pull our act together!  We can't keep bolting and reacting to nothing.  We got a long winter ahead.  We need to figure out our strategies, prepare and conserve our energies for when they are really needed to survive!  The greatest thing we have to fear is fear itself!"

 

But, then other voices coming from the crowd on the lake:

 

"Yes, but there is nothing normal about this season!  We don't have our geese police here!  We have to look out for and protect ourselves!   We have to be our own eyes and ears!"

 

"That doesn't mean we over-react to everything!  That doesn't mean paranoia!  Jeeze, are we going to start bolting at butterflies?"

 

"We cannot be complacent!  Look at what they have done to the geese!  We are NEXT unless we learn from what has already happened!"

 

"The geese are a whole other story. Two of them made the mistake of colliding with a plane two years ago.  The humans are out to get them.  But, we are not geese!  We are safe for the moment."

 

"Yea, for the moment indeed!   What about that boat on the lake two weeks ago?  The one with the bright strobe lights peering into the water?  There were no geese here then!  They must have been gearing up for US!"

 

"True, but look, we cannot make ourselves crazy!  Yes, we have to be vigilant and more careful than normal. True, we don't have the geese anymore to be our eyes and ears. But, we still have to keep our wits about us and conserve energy. We cannot be so easily intimidated that we fly off on the drop of a hat. Remember, the biggest thing we have to fear is fear itself.   At this rate, we will burn ourselves out by the time of the first major winter storm."

 

"Well, you may be right about that...," finally came a consensus from the group. "But, we still have to be extra vigilant and prepared to take action when needed."

 

With that, the debate and dialogue began to settle down and the mallards appeared a bit more relaxed, but pensive on the water.

 

But, they did not return to the grass.

 

Apparently, they had a lot to think about.

 

The assembly meeting apparently over, the ducks either sat relaxed on the water softly chattering with each other or slowly drifted away.

 

I gathered my two dogs and likewise prepared to leave.

 

Finally noticing me again, Brad and the group of "regulars" gathered as usual to follow as Tina, Chance and I left Harlem Meer.

 

Despite the important assembly strategy meeting, the normal departure ritual between the ducks and me continued.

 

I waved to them on the lake's edge and tried to reassure (as apparently one of their leaders) that yes, the greatest thing they had to fear was fear itself.  At the same time, it was important that the ducks be aware of what was happening al over and take those extra steps for vigilance that are unfortunately required. -- Especially without their "geese police."

 

Walking home, I could not help but wonder and marvel at the similarities in behavior of humans to other animals in nature -- in this case, ducks.

 

We have a human "occupy" movement occurring downtown in Manhattan and a similar one occurring on the north end of Central Park.

 

Although the human Occupy Wall Street movement is focused for the moment on critical human issues and problems, I am hopeful that when apparently necessary next summer, there will be a few humans willing -- along with the ducks and whatever geese -- to "occupy" city parks when the terrorizing, USDA death squads show up.

 

"All for one and one for all."

 

The motto for the geese and ducks.  

 

Hopefully, the motto too, for all of us.  -- PCA

 

 

 

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"The Shows Must Go On!"

An old adage from Broadway proclaims, "The show must go on!" (no matter what).

 

Out of Scotland this weekend comes an incredible video making the media rounds:

 

http://www.ibtimes.com/articles/243188/20111103/murmurations-starlings-dance-shows-winter-soon-video.htm

 

Thousands of starlings flying in magnificent dance.  -- A ballet of the skies.

 

When seeing this spectacular clip, my first thought unfortunately was, "Good thing they weren't flying like this in New York City.  Officials would have sent up an Atomic bomb."

 

I say, "unfortunately" because I seemingly have been conditioned to thinking in the negative when it comes to our relationship with nature in NYC.

 

Starlings, sadly, are one of the species (like Canada geese) on governmental, wildlife "hit lists" in the states.

 

Apparently, starlings fly in this mysterious "murmuration" style when spooked and attempting to avoid predators.

 

Most "prey" animals have to gather and stay together in large groups as means of protection.   That is in fact, what enables most to survive.

 

If I have sounded overly concerned (or even alarmed) about the tiny number of geese occasionally spotted around Central Park over the past several months, it is precisely for this reason.

 

Being a "prey" species in nature, Geese typically "gather" and migrate in the fall in very large numbers.

 

One can, for example, find incredible videos on YouTube of hundreds and sometimes even thousands of migrating geese flying in the skies or landing in open fields or lakes.

 

That resident Canada geese from New York City would be forced to fly to wintering locations in tiny gaggles of 5 to 8 geese is to leave these birds totally open to predations -- mostly via hunter's bullets.

 

So, yes, I am very worried about the ultimate survivability of the 13 geese observed (not together) in Central Park over the past three months.

 

I have to hope they are able to find other flocks of geese to fly with before the winter sets in.

 

But, they won't find them in Central Park.....

 

Last night, there were "shows" occurring in and over Central Park, some endearing and funny, some not so amusing.

 

Due to yesterday's running marathon, there were virtually no runners in Central Park last night.

 

Like the previous two evenings, the park was extremely quiet and empty -- at least of human traffic.

 

But, I personally did not feel as "spooked" by the seeming eeriness, because the energy or vibe was different.

 

For one matter, it didn't take long to spot the family of three raccoons that I sometimes see.

 

They were merrily scooting about, but as usual, ran up a tree when spotting my dogs.

 

Raccoons are so cute.  I love their masked faces, especially when staring down from a tree and seeming to curiously ask, "Who are you?"

 

Spirits always lift when seeing raccoons. Whatever uneasiness one might ordinarily feel when being in a city park at night with no people around quickly dissipates when noting any animals casually sauntering about.  

 

(One of the most exciting nights ever in Central Park was last year, when seeing a coyote around the Great Lawn.  Coyotes are absolutely beautiful and incredible animals!  They gracefully and effortlessly leap over fences like gazelles.  Extremely smart, patient and wary, too.  Of course, the Central Park coyote was captured a few days later. S/he was taken to Animal Control and supposedly released later outside of the city.)

 

Seeing raccoons and other animals just says to me, "Everything is fine. Life goes on. Stay cool!"

 

When arriving to Harlem Meer last night, Brad and the usual "gang" of mallards came to immediately greet me.

 

They appeared to be more relaxed than the previous two evenings, though still a bit jumpy and wary. (Then again, that is normal duck behavior when no geese are around.)

 

Since the mallards seemed a bit more at ease, I began to toss treats just to gage if any might attempt to catch them in mid air.

 

There is a gentleman who has "trained" a female mallard at Turtle Pond to catch peanuts in mid air.  I saw the trick last year and was duly impressed. The man named the mallard, "Daisy" and both he and the mallard put on quite a show for park visitors.

 

But, can I train my mallards to put on such a "show?"

 

I don't know.  But, it seemed last night that at least a few of the mallards showed promise.  While not actually catching any peanuts in the air, they watched intently before I tossed and made some late efforts to catch. - Perhaps its just a matter of timing and conditioning.

 

But, mostly I am just trying to condition or really "bribe" a few mallards to stay at the Meer through the winter to aid Brad in keeping a pool of open water. Of course, that is probably like trying to bribe Lady Gaga to stay home and have babies.  Mallards, like Gaga, are fiercely independent and unpredictable.

 

But, maybe I will be able to train a mallard or two to catch peanuts in the air.

 

Since the mallards were relatively peaceful and relaxed last night, I sat on a bench for a while and tried to interpret their constant chatterings.  Mallards are extremely conversational.  But, I have no damned idea what they are saying.

 

Then again, most of my attention last night was diverted to airliners flying overhead.

 

It's funny.  Some nights I am not at all aware of planes and copters overhead.   And other nights, they are seemingly everywhere.

 

When finally leaving the Meer, Brad and all his mallard buddies, followed as always to the edge of the lake.

 

The departing gesture of these birds is truly touching and endearing.  The only thing they are missing is a wave.

 

Walking home via way of the North Meadow and Reservoir, it seemed I was constantly looking up at the "air show" above me.

 

Not sure how many planes I counted either heading towards or departing from Laguardia Airport, but it was a lot.  Some high in the air. Some low. But, once again, they and the copters seemingly taking over the skies.

 

What of course was not seen was any kind of "air show" of Canada geese.

 

Yes, its a good thing the thousands of starlings were flying over Scotland and not New York City.

 

Indeed, we can't seem to handle or tolerate even a couple of dozen geese in one of the world's grandest parks.  

 

Nevertheless, at least in some parts of the world, nature prevails and the shows still go on.  -- PCA

 

 

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Running in Walking Shoes to Search....

Yesterday's count in Central Park:

 

47,000 human runners.  Zero geese.

 

The runners are of course to be congratulated and admired for enormous personal accomplishment.   It truly is an amazing feat to cover 26 miles in two, four or however many hours it takes.

 

As a child, I was a very fast and agile runner.  Always the last to get hit in a game of dodge ball, though that was probably more due to the adversity and fear of pain, than actual athletic prowess. (The boys always threw the ball hard.)

 

But, aside from the ability to run and jump out of the way of speeding balls, I also loved to run with my dog up and down the streets of New York City.

 

Running was a way to escape family battles at home or the dreariness and confinement of school.

 

I experienced running as very liberating.

 

But, during the 50's and 60's, athletics and running were not stressed either in schools or culture as they are today.

 

Once grown up, I drifted away from the exhilaration and freedom of running and more towards other "physical ventures" shall we say, (without going into details).

 

Among favorites were cycling, dancing, skating and later, swimming.

 

But, running faded into the backlog of childhood memories, some pleasant, some not, never to be revisited again.

 

Today, I cannot run more than two blocks without feeling that someone has taken a hammer to the balls and heels of my feet. (Then again, that could have something to do with wearing walking shoes when going to the park, rather than running shoes.)

 

Whatever the case -- age, lack of habit or wrong shoes -- I am simply not a runner. 

 

But, I am thinking of taking up running now, not as a "sport," per se or as way to achieve some personal goal, but more as means to search for something that I cannot find anymore in daily, two mile walks in the park.

 

Perhaps if I can cover the entire park in less than a couple of hours, I might at some point, find a goose.

 

Last night, quoting from the old Joni Mitchell song, "Big Yellow Taxi," I wrote, "You don't know what you've got, till its gone."

 

I have been feeling those words acutely and profoundly for months now.

 

As much as I love walking in beautiful Central Park with my dogs everyday, the sheer joy has been taken out as our city's "war" on Canada geese has progressed and seemingly reached fever pitch. -- To the point now that it has seemingly succeeded in "removing' every last goose from the beloved local park.

 

True, the USDA "boogeymen" have not officially invaded Central Park and physically "removed" every goose, but they did in fact, "survey" Central Park this past summer.

 

But, the number of geese in Central Park was so low, that it probably wasn't worth the risk of potential media and public exposure to round up less than 20 geese in the huge, 874 acre "crown jewel" of city parks.

 

Nevertheless, as previously noted, the few geese in Central Park have been consistently terrorized and chased out by various goose harassment companies employed by the Central Park Conservancy.  The likelihood is that many or most of the former "resident" Central Park geese were rounded up in neighboring parks and killed -- thus explaining why there are nearly none in Central Park now, or for the past three months.

 

I have of course been highly critical of Central Park for its goose harassment policies for this reason. What difference does it make where the geese are rounded up if the deadly results and consequences are the same?

 

And yet for all its harassment of geese, Central Park was not exempt from a USDA scouting and survey this past year.  (Had they not vigorously harassed geese in the spring, its quite probable, Central Park would have been a target site of a USDA roundup.)  

 

The USDA says in its most recent letter that, "It is our understanding that some parks have instituted public-private partnerships to institute non-lethal methods."

 

USDA apparently "understands" this, but doesn't seem to make the effort to know which parks actually employ harassment and which don't.

 

Apparently, it makes no difference to the USDA nor garners any respect or deference whether non-lethal partnerships are engaged in or not at city parks and properties.

 

So, the question is, why bother to use harassment at all if in fact, it does nothing to protect wildlife, nor garner any respect from federal government agencies and merely results in birds getting slaughtered elsewhere?  

 

I don't know.

 

It would be interesting however, to see if USDA could actually attempt a roundup of the few geese in Central Park during the summer.

 

One wonders if any of the thousands of joggers who routinely run in the park every morning would stop -- or even notice?

 

Running is a great sport.  It is great for fitness, a sense of personal freedom and mental and emotional well being.

 

But, even in running, its important to have eyes opened to what is happening around one.

 

I am thinking of maybe taking up running again.

 

But, not as sense of personal achievement or pride, as much to search for something.

 

Something beautiful, simple and honest that has seemingly been taken away........

 

The question is, can it ever be found again?

 

Or, like childhood events and visions, is it something to be relegated to the backdrop of memories never to be revisited or experienced again -- no matter how fast one runs or searches? -- PCA

 

 

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