Oliver Twist -- A Very Lucky and Blessed Duck

(Photos:  1 and 2-- Oliver before rescue. Fishing line twisted around and imbedded into leg.  Oliver unable to put foot down or walk.  3 and 4 -- Leg after fishing line removed. Swollen, indented, close to breaking point.  Oliver now being treated and recovering at Wild Bird Fund.) 

Oliver Twist is either a very lucky -- or blessed duck.  But, more about him later.....

Once again, I could not know what to expect when returning to Harlem Mere last night.

A second storm had blown into New York City on Wednesday and Central Park was closed for two days.

I was of course worried for Wiggly and Honker (the domestic ducks),  as well as Little Brad (still recovering from a leg injury) and most of all, Oliver, the compromised drake who was crippled from imbedded fishing line wrapped tightly around his left leg.

But, I did not go alone to Harlem Mere last night.

After sharing Oliver's plight with Lianna, (the kindly senior citizen who monitors the birds at the Boat Lake), she insisted on helping me to rescue Oliver in order to free the fishing line from his leg.

"But, Lianna, I am not sure that Oliver will even be there tonight!" I told her.  "With the park closed for two days, the normal routine is disrupted.  Things could be a bit chaotic as there are many ducks, geese and other birds at the Mere right now.  Perhaps it is better for me to go and determine the situation first before we plan anything."

"Nonsense!" Lianna answered in her heavy Romanian accent.  "I go with you. Even if we not get the duck, it is good for me to know the area.  I don't like to think of the duck suffering.  I will say a prayer for help to Saint Francis, the patron saint of animals and I will light a candle."

Who was I to argue with a saint?

Lianna and I met at the 97th Street entrance to Central Park last night. As usual, I had my two dogs with me, some bird food and a small pair of scissors in the unlikely event we were able to capture Oliver. Lianna brought with her a Sherpa bag (cat carrier), a small blanket and some food.  Lianna and I then walked to Harlem Mere together.

When arriving to the Mere, a number of ducks were already gathered along the embankment.  I could immediately see Wiggly, Honker and Little Brad who came quickly scampering towards us.  Thank goodness they were safe, I thought.

"Ah, look at that!" Lianna exclaimed. "They are following you!"

"Yes, well they missed their treats for two days," I laughed. "Greedy little buggers."

Shortly after securing my dogs to a park bench, I turned around and quickly noted Oliver pitifully pulling himself on the embankment and immediately flopping down on the grass.

"Oh, there he is!" I said, pointing out Oliver to Lianna.

"Oh, poor bird." Lianna replied.   "Look, the other ducks are attacking him. Shoo! Shoo!"

Within seconds, the grass was crowded with a swarm of mallards and even some geese.

I lost sight of Oliver.

"Oh dear.  I don't see Oliver now.  Did he fly back to the water?" I asked Lianna.

"No!  Look.  He is right in front of you!"

Looking down, I was shocked to see Oliver sitting directly at my feet and looking up at me.

I squatted down offering food from my hand and tossing it in front of him, while at the same time, trying to keep the greedy Wiggly and other ducks away.  Fighting for the food, Oliver was busy grabbing what he could while also, in feisty fashion,  pecking at the other ducks.

"This is good!" Lianna said.  "You keep him distracted and I will sneak up behind and try to grab him."

To my utter shock, Lianna had Oliver wrapped inside a small blanket and held securely in her arms within seconds.

Both of us then moved swiftly under a lamp light.  I pulled out the small scissors from my bag and immediately began to cut into the fishing line imbedded into and around Oliver's leg.

But, it wasn't an easy job as I literally had to cut into the leg itself in order to remove all of the fishing line.

Oliver's twisted leg began to bleed profusely.

Although the original plan was to cut the line and release Oliver back to the water (or grass), I began to have second thoughts when noting the severity of the injury and damaged leg limply dangling.

"He is still not going to be able to walk or put any weight on this leg, " I said with concern to Lianna.  "It could also get infected now from having to cut into it."

"Then I take him home and bring him to Wild Bird Fund tomorrow morning!" Lianna answered with confidence.

Both of us then worked gently to put Oliver safely into the Sherpa bag Lianna had brought.

Once securely in the bag, Lianna and I then tossed remaining cracked corn and sunflower seeds to the scores of apparently newly arrived migratory and resident ducks and geese.

Harlem Mere has greatly "come alive" over the past couple of weeks with arrivals of wood ducks, cormorants and even a swan.

Had "Hector" the swan suddenly returned to Harlem Mere after being chased out two years ago by "Geese Relief" I wondered?

I could not be sure last night if the newly arrived swan was the same one from 2010. But, there were too many other things going on to stop and try to figure out.

Finally leaving Harlem Mere, Lianna again remarked at the number of ducks following us.

"Oh yes!  And notice Little Brad limping in the very front, as he always leads the departing parade." I answered.  "That is simply their good night ritual."

Lianna seemed utterly fascinated by that.

Once on Fifth Avenue, I insisted on Lianna taking a cab home to her West 70's apartment.

The only way she agreed is when I told her it would be less stressful to Oliver.  Lianna was perfectly content to walk almost two miles home with a wild, frightened duck in her bag.

I was extremely fortunate that Lianna (unlike me) has no other pets at home and was willing to put an injured duck up for the night.

This morning, I left a message for Rita McMahon of the Wild Bird Fund that Lianna would be bringing in an injured mallard.   Although I offered to help Lianna get Oliver to the bird hospital, she declined the offer saying it was "no problem" for her.

Very few things are "problems" for Lianna. She apparently has God and the saints on her side.  Faith seems to bring with it, almost superhuman strength and resilience.

Following her dropping off Oliver at the animal hospital, Lianna called me to give an updated report:

Oliver is safely at the bird hospital now and is being treated.

Rita (chief vet and rehabber) says the circulation in Oliver's leg was cut off and the leg was close to breaking. 

Damage to and fragility of bone means that Oliver will be treated with rest, calcium and antibiotics.   

It seems we got Oliver just in time before his leg actually broke.

Prognosis is guarded, but somewhat optimistic.  Hopefully, with some time and healing, Oliver will be able to walk again.  

I am very happy that with Lianna's help (and Saint Francis?) we were able to get Oliver last night. I never thought it would happen, but it was as if Oliver somehow "knew" we were there to help him and almost literally flopped into our arms.

Never underestimate the power of faith and the birds sometimes being smart enough to ask for help. 

Thank you, Lianna.  Thank you Wild Bird Fund.  And thank you, Saint Francis.  -- PCA

Important Note:   The Wild Bird Fund works entirely on donations.  Without this fine veterinary facility available for injured and sick wild birds, the "Oliver's" of New York City could not be helped.  Please be generous in supporting this vital, non-profit organization:

Wild Bird Fund

565 Columbus Ave.

New York, NY. 10024

(646) 306-2862

                                                  

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Vanishing Choices? -- Post Election Thoughts on a Stormy New York Day

Taking Cues From Nature or Relying on Government to Dictate Our Choices and Actions?

Yesterday, New York was hit with a "Nor'Easter which whipped into town, blew some limbs off trees and dumped a few inches of snow on the ground.

Slippery going for a brief while.

Mayor Bloomberg ordered all city parks closed for a day.  (No surprise there from our nanny-care mayor.)

I am wondering if every time we get a storm in New York City, city parks will automatically close from this day forward for fear of potential lawsuits?

Can a person not be hit with a falling tree branch in other parts of the city?  Perhaps we should not dare to leave our apartments any time the wind blows or rain falls for fear we will be blown away?

To me, some of the most beautiful and peaceful times in Central Park are during and following snow storms. 

There is something blissfully quiet when snow is trickling to the ground. -- It is a like a magical insulator against all the other distractions and activities of a city that never sleeps.

It is hoped that in our paranoia about "keeping the public safe," we don't inevitably lose the choice to enjoy those ordinary things that make life in a busy city, beautiful, ascetic, interesting, exciting or even a wee bit dangerous -- like Canada geese and the typical rain or snow storm.

Surely, one of my most vivid memories of Central Park is one time getting caught in a sudden, blustery and driving rain storm.

Yes, my dogs and I were completely drenched by the time the wind seemingly blew us home.  And yes, it was a bit of a harrowing experience, realizing the sheer power and force of weather and nature.

But, I also learned something.

I learned that when noting the geese and ducks suddenly sounding off "alarm" honks, vacating the water and flying off in search of safer cover, it is probably wise for an observing human to do the same.

Essentially, we don't need nanny care politicians to order us to "stay safe" if we learn to take our cues from nature.

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A Two Party System and Choice in Name Only?

  

Anytime one political party gains too much power, there is seemingly trouble ahead and our two party system goes down the tank. Look at New York. We are a "blue" state. The democrats control the New York City Council, the governorship, the Senate and the Presidency.

In past years, one recalls contested (and exciting) Senate races, Governorships, Presidential and House races in New York.

Now, there are no real contests -- just the appearances of them.

In national Presidential elections, the candidates don't bother making any campaign stops in New York (or any "red" or "blue" states) or waging any kind of campaign here.  Not once during this past two billion dollar Presidential election campaign did I see one bumper sticker or poster for either candidate in New York City. 

One would not think an election was actually be held here if not following national media reports.

New York's Presidential election choice was seemingly decided long before any of us actually went to the polls and filled in ballots.

The same was true in the Senate and House political races.

In almost all cases, New Yorkers don't know who the opposing (Republican) candidates are until actually seeing their names on the ballot -- in which case, the old adage, "Better to go with the devil you do know than the one you don't" almost always applies.

Perhaps this helps explain why the same Senators and Representatives are returned again and again to Washington, despite the public's stated "disapproval" of Congress in national polls.

It seems if we live in a determined "red" or "blue" state, we are given no real choices and no political contests are actually run.   Whatever the minority party, they simply take their election battles and money to states that are more contested. -- the "purple" ones, so to speak, like Ohio, Wisconsin or Florida.

Matters have to be equally frustrating to those democrats living in states like Texas or Louisiana.  

It seems we in the red or blue states go to the polls as a matter of formality, rather than actual determination of anything anymore.

That is actually scary to think about.

Are New Yorkers thus going to be stuck with Senator Kirsten Gillibrand for decades because the Republicans have given up running viable Senate candidates in NY?   It sure seems that way. Or, maybe Gillibrand will run for President in four years. "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely."

Canada geese (and people who care about real choices and change), watch out.   -- PCA

                                                             


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They (Canada Geese and Other Animals) Can Survive Anything, But....

(Photos:  1- Whiteface in greeting.  2 and 3-- Oliver, a mallard, crippled by twisted fishing line around leg.) 

Return of Whiteface and Friends

"Whiteface," the Barnacle goose who is part of a Canada goose family and who spent the summer molt at the Reservoir is back in Central Park.  

Whiteface and her flock returned to Central Park and specifically, Harlem Mere a couple of days ago.

Geese are moving around a good deal these days.  Several families of geese have actually shown up at the Mere and for the moment, appear content to hang around a little while.

It is fascinating how the wildlife scene changes from day to day, according to the time of year and the weather

Last week, just prior to hurricane Sandy, virtually all the waterfowl (except the domestic ducks) left Harlem Mere presumably in search of better cover from the violent storm. 

Following the destruction of the hurricane, a few mallards slowly and cautiously trickled back to the Mere.

Now, more than a week later, Harlem Mere is not only replete with a bountiful population of mallards, but also Canada geese, sea gulls and a number of exotic ducks.  I have even seen colorful and unusual birds on the water that I can't identify.

Movement and motion during fall migrations.

But, today there is another storm passing through New York.  A "Nor'easter" this time.

Trusting it is more bluster than actual storm,  I am hoping our returned feathered friends stick around a little while this time. 

It is so nice to once again see Whiteface and all of her pals. 

Life is again rich in all its splendor and glory -- at least for the moment.  

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"Oliver Twist" -- The Drake crippled from embedded, twisted, fishing line.

The fishing season may technically be over, but injuries to wildlife are not.

Over the past few weeks, I have noted a mallard even more crippled than what Little Brad was for a short period of time.

Only the new "lame duck" is not likely to recover from his injury.

Last night, I was able to get a closer look at the drake, now named, "Oliver."

His leg is completely twisted in grotesque fashion with fishing line wrapped tightly around.

Oliver is unable to put his foot down or walk at all.  He hops, hobbles and falls over when on land.  Due to the unusual motions, Oliver is an easy target for harassment by other mallards.

It is past the point of frustration to note still another bird crippled, maimed or even dying from the ravages of carelessly discarded fishing line or barbed hooks.

Over the years of observing ducks and geese in Central Park, I have wondered and rejoiced in the birds' abilities to survive blizzards, hurricanes, Nor'easters and lakes and ponds completely frozen over in winter.

And yet the irony is that all of the birds lost over the years have died during the "easy" seasons of spring, summer and early fall.

"Ol' Man Winter" seemingly doesn't hold a candle to the destruction wrought by human recreation.

It seems the one thing the animals cannot easily survive is human cruelty.

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Post Election Blues

As expected, Senator Kirsten Gillibrand won easy reelection to the US Senate yesterday in New York.

New York is a heavily "blue state" and Gillibrand, a democrat.

It was completely  unnecessary for the Senator responsible for the destruction of more than 1,000 Canada geese this past summer, to inundate us with her obnoxious commercials or run any campaign at all.   Most New Yorkers had no idea who Gillibrand's Republican opponent (Wendy Long) actually was.

Personally, I am not sure why so many people who otherwise care about animal protection, robotically believe the democratic party the more "favorable" for animals.

Matters may sometimes appear that way, but looks can be deceiving.

Looks were certainly deceptive in this case.

New York City has two democratic Senators, a democratic Governor, a democratic President, a democratic city council and a mostly liberal Mayor who calls himself an "Independent."

And the last four years could not have been worse for NYC animals and especially our NYC geese.   (It makes one ponder the saying, "Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.")

I am "blue" this post election day.  But, it has nothing to do with party affiliations and politics.

To be blunt, I am not sure if the beautiful Canada geese I am fortunate to see now in Central Park will survive another four years of these deceptive, fiscally wasteful and animal-brutal administrations.  

Canada geese can survive anything but human cruelty and callous, opportunistic  politicians.  --- PCA

                                                              

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Destruction and Survivals of Nature -- Who and What Decides?

 

(Photos 1-- Wiggly and Honker, hungry after the storms. 2-- Little Brad.  He may be a "lame duck," but nevertheless, a survivor. 3-- Little Brad and friend.)

I went with my two dogs to Central Park the last two night about 8 PM.

On Saturday evening, temperatures tumbled through the 40's and a brisk, cutting wind blew in from the north.  Perhaps just a tiny taste of what occurred in NYC just five days before.

Entering the park at 90th Street and Fifth Ave, the first thing noticed was the absence of any people.

No runners, no cyclists, lovers or even people walking dogs.

It was as if the city had not gotten the message that Central Park was officially open after being shut down for 5 days following the angst and anger of hurricane Sandy passing through last Monday.

And "anger" it apparently was in the wake of the storm that in some higher level areas, barely touched Manhattan.

But, Sandy did indeed impact Central Park.

Piles of split and broken tree branches had apparently been gathered by park personnel to be picked up later in some spots.

Other areas were heavily strewn with twigs and leaves violently ripped from trees. Large open gaps among skeletal trees created the memory of what one typically sees in December, not the middle of fall.  

"Foil foliage on steroids," one might say.  Almost all the trees had been stripped bare in a matter of days.

The path around the Reservoir was closed due to damage and/or danger and weakness of still vulnerable tree limbs.. 

Nevertheless, I thankfully did not see many downed trees on the walk from the Bridal Path in Central Park through the East Meadow, along the park drive and towards Harlem Mere.

Actual arrival to Harlem Mere, however, told a far different story. 

Because it sits as a kind of open space at the very north tip of the park (without protection from nearby buildings or plentiful trees), Harlem Mere is particularly vulnerable to violent storms and strong winds.

At least two large trees were pulled from their roots and lay on the ground like dead dinosaurs. Elsewhere along the paths leading to Harlem Mere, felled branches and twigs were strewn all about as if caught up in violent whirlwinds and having lost the battle. 

Slow dread began to creep into my consciousness when seeing the vast destruction around me. I began to doubt.if the two domestic (flightless) ducks and one recovering mallard at Harlem Mere could have survived such wrath and sheer violence of nature.

Walking down a path leading to the lake, I was first struck by how still and empty the water appeared -- with the exception of tossed and floating tree branches.

But, then I suddenly noticed a few ducks swimming near the water's edge. 

Walking quickly under a park lamp to get a better look, my heart suddenly leaped.

There, in the small flock of about a dozen ducks, were Wiggly and Honker!   The two flightless, barnyard ducks had miraculously survived!

All the ducks followed and immediately hopped up on the embankment even before I could secure my dogs to a park bench.

It was then I noticed one of the ducks with a limp. Little Brad had apparently hunkered down with Wiggly and Honker through the hurricane and like them, survived!  Glory be! 

"There you are!!  Wow, miracles of miracles.  How did you guys ever make it through the hurricane?" I asked, bubbling over with sheer delight and relief.

Scampering up to me excitedly, Wiggly and Honker were chattering a mile a minute -- but I am not sure they were actually answering my question.

Rather, if forced to guess what the two noisy ducks were squawking about, it was probably something like this:

"Where have you been?  You have no idea what we have been through!  Its been horrible here for the past week!  Almost all the mallards left. The storms came.  We were barely able to hang on.  It was SO terrifying!  And we have barely anything to eat!  Where was the help when we needed it?"

I scrambled for cracked corn and sunflower seeds in my bag.  Wiggly and Honker were seemingly devouring it before it hit the ground. Little Brad wedged himself between the two voracious domestic ducks to grab whatever he could. The other mallards clustered around in a circle and likewise, grabbed whatever they could.

I had never seen ducks so seemingly famished with the possible exception of the deepest and most bitter days of winter.

There were no "silly duck games" or "bar room brawls" Saturday night.

Rather, it was time to get serious and fill to any degree possible, very empty bellies.

Last night (Sunday), I returned to Harlem Mere and it was nearly an identical repeat of the night before.

Only this time, Little Brad was the first duck to greet me on the embankment, followed closely behind by the two Khaki Campbell girls, Wiggly and Honker.

Once again, I could not seemingly get the treats out fast enough for the dozen or so ducks who swooped them up like mini vacuum cleaners.  Wiggly and Honker were the hungriest and grabbed the most.

After some minutes, Little Brad and a couple of the other mallards, apparently satisfied, left the embankment and returned to the safety and "warmth" of the water.

I gathered my two dogs and began to exit Harlem Mere.

As he always does, Little Brad followed me in the water -- so reminiscent of his name sake who sadly perished in September.

This is still a hard thing to wrap my head around -- the eeriness of how Little Brad is so much like the original Brad who was not even a wild mallard, but rather, a domestic Rouen duck.  Its almost as if some of Brad's semi-tame spirit has somehow morphed into the little lame drake. Little Brad seems far more like a domestic duck than the typically cautious and wary mallards.

Wiggly and Honker, although they usually follow me in parting gesture, remained on the grass last night, still grabbing what remaining cracked corn or sunflower seeds could be mustered.

So much for "loyalty and gratitude" I laughed to myself.

Although most of the mallards apparently left Harlem Mere either prior to the storm or shortly thereafter, (there were at least 40 mallards prior to the hurricane) I am guessing the dozen or so observed the past two nights probably returned during the last week (though not sure about Little Brad).

I noted a few more new arrivals last night when leaving the east side of Harlem Mere.

But, more startling than a few returning mallards, were three Canada geese lazily swimming in the middle of the lake!

Migrants I wondered, just stopping over for a brief rest?

Over the past few weeks, a few gaggles of geese have stopped by the Mere, but none seem to stay more than a day.  It was good to see things slowly getting back to normal in Central Park.

But, if I am delighted and relieved to discover all my special ducks survived at Harlem Mere, I am downright shocked to hear from my friend, Lianna, that both Jack and Jill (the new domestic ducks at the Boat Lake) survived the vicious storm.  I did not think that two flightless, Khaki Campbell ducks would survive a hurricane after only two months of living in the outdoors and not having previously dealt with extreme weather.

It is strange that although so much more "intelligent" and progressed than animals in our so-called, "control" over our environments, we humans are seemingly  far more vulnerable than animals to the actual challenges and surprises that nature sometimes has in store for and wreaks upon us.

Mighty and powerful trees come down, but tiny ducks and sparrows survive.

Fascinating.

Perhaps it is true that God sometimes grants favor and blessing to the meakest and most vulnerable of His creations than the more knowledgeable and powerful.

Perhaps we should strive more to live in harmony with and learn from nature than to think we can ever overrule and fully "master" -- or even understand it.  -- PCA

                                                             


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Running on Hope -- Return to Central Park in Search of Nature's Survival

(Photo:  Wiggly when last seen. But, will she be found today?)


Return to ???

Central Park has finally reopened after a shut down of five days due to the damages of hurricane Sandy.

I have not been to the park yet, but am more than a little nervous as to what will be found -- or perhaps more accurately, not found.

Did Wiggly, Honker and Little Brad survive at Harlem Mere?  Did Jack and Jill make it through the storm at the Boat Lake?

While reasonably confident that the Canada geese and healthy wild mallards would survive most of what nature has to dish out, one is a little less optimistic regarding the domestic ducks left to their own devices by well meaning park visitors -- or any waterfowl compromised by injury (such as Little Brad).

Apparently more than 500 trees in Central Park were either damaged or destroyed by the fierce hurricane that stands as one of the worst natural disasters in New York history. 

If the storm was able to bring down mighty trees standing for more than a century, one has to wonder about small animals, most weighing just a few pounds?

In all my years of living in New York City, I have never known Central Park to be closed for more than a day due to dangerous condition.

I can make no predictions or assumptions of anything.

One can only pray that God or luck or something was looking out for our animal friends. 

Not sure whether I am actually looking forward or with dread to returning to Central Park.

But, for sure, questions that have persisted all week, will finally find answer.

That only that answer will be, "By miracle, we have made it!"

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Running on Empty and Running on Hope

The New York City marathon which was scheduled to be run tomorrow was finally canceled yesterday.

I and thousands of other New Yorkers pressured city officials to do the right thing and shut this sporting event down in the light of so much human suffering, loss and casualty in the wake of hurricane Sandy.

It would have been like holding a party at a murder scene.

Unfortunately, Mayor Bloomberg and the Road Runners Club was "out to lunch" on what should have been obvious and responsible decision made immediately following the ravages of hurricane Sandy.

Because the decision was made so late, there are now thousands of "devastated" runners who, having made long trips to NYC for the event, are left holding their running shoes.

One wonders if some of these runners understand the actual meaning of the term, "devastated?"  One presumes most still have roofs over their heads.

Yesterday, photos of power generators and porta potties at Central Park's finishing line for the marathon appeared in the New York Post with the front page headline, "Abuse of Power."    This was apparently enough to spark the public outrage that was necessary to finally put a halt to the incredible political insensitivity and denial.

Even so, Mayor Bloomberg incredibly proclaimed at a press conference yesterday afternoon that the marathon would more forward because, "People can grieve, cry and laugh at the same time."

It made one wonder if the mayor dances on gravestones?

This sentence along with Bloomberg's  proclamation two years ago, that gassed geese "go to sleep and have nice dreams" demonstrate our mayor's mind boggling detachment from that which is tragic and unjustifiable.  (Both, Bloomberg and Senator Gillibrand are embarrassments to the great state of New York.)

Nevertheless, some cooler heads finally prevailed on our myopic Mayor and by 6 PM yesterday, the running party had run on empty.

Perhaps now some of those generators, porta potties and thousands of bottles of water and Gatoraide can be distributed to those thousands of New Yorkers sitting in the ruin and rubble of what used to be their lives and their homes.

And our severely stretched  police, sanitation workers and first responders can attend to the taxing challenges at hand -- those of actually helping to save human lives.

Nature too, needs time to heal from the ravages of the past week.

I am grateful to and proud all those thousands of New Yorkers who stood up and demanded to do what was right.

Sometimes, the voice of the people actually finds power and ear.  

Now to quite literally, "run on hope" back to Central Park.  -- PCA

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Aftermath of Monster Storm -- Did Our Wildlife Survive?

I and the residents of the Upper East Side of Manhattan are extremely fortunate, considering the hit our city has taken over the past day from hurricane Sandy. 

At least 10 people dead, the lower part of Manhattan without power. Subways flooded and God only knows how many people lost their homes.  The devastation is unimaginable.

Virtually, everything is shut down.  Stores, bridges, tunnels, businesses and schools closed.  No transit running. All city parks closed until further notice.

Almost a million people are without power in New York City.

I am of course praying Wiggly, Honker, Little Brad and all the other birds and wildlife of Central Park survived.  But I won't know anything until I can get to Harlem Mere and the Boat Lake again. 

For sure, it had to be a very rough couple of days for the wildlife of our city parks.

If I am optimistic about anything, it is that the neighborhoods surrounding Central Park did not suffer the crushing damages of other locations throughout New York.   Hurricane Sandy did not produce that much rain in this area.   However the winds sometime gusted more than 60 MPH.

Sidewalks and streets are covered in leaves, fallen tree branches, debris and twigs.  But, surprisingly, all the trees in this neighborhood, (including newly planted small trees) remain standing.

I am cautiously optimistic, (but again, not sure) that most, if not all of the ducks and geese in Central Park made it through -- as it appears, almost all of the trees did.

It was wise that Central Park took the precaution of lowering water levels in most of the park's watercourses.

Apparently, the East River overflowed on parts of the FDR drive and water gushed as far inland as York Avenue.

Hopefully, the lower water levels in Central Park helped to prevent ponds and lakes from overflowing banks and causing destruction to plant and animal life. 

The reason parks are closed today is so that workers can assess any damages, conduct clean-ups and assure park safety.

I am reasonably confident (but again not sure) that Central Park will reopen tomorrow.

I cannot wait to get back to seek out and hopefully find our precious little animal friends again.

Wiggly, Honker, Little Brad and pals, we have not forgotten about you.  -- PCA

                                                              

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Approaching Storm, Frolicking Geese and "Proficient Egg Layers"

(Photos: 1-- Wiggly, top duck at Harlem Mere..  2 -- "Frolicking" goose at Boat Lake yesterday. 3--  "Jack and Jill" -- Khaki Campbell (domestic) ducks at Boat Lake yesterday.)

Before the Storm -- Alarm Sounding

Central Park closed yesterday at 5 PM due to the major storm that is projected to hit NYC today.  High winds are expected to knock down trees and therefore the park could become dangerous even before the rain actually arrives.

The birds at Harlem Mere seemed to sense something in the air, even though the past few nights have been more representative of the "calm before the storm."  

Temperatures have been mild with barely a breeze to stir the water.

Nevertheless, the migratory geese left Harlem Mere a couple of nights ago, along with a number of mallards.

Friday night, Wiggly (one of the two domestic ducks at the Mere) swam around in the water constantly honking.  At first, I thought the loud shrieking was due to her gal pal, Honker having wandered away. But, even when Honker answered her calls and returned to her side from across the lake, Wiggly continued "alarm"  honking and quacking incessantly. 

It was very strange as to be almost eerie.

Since the death of her protege, Brad, last month, Wiggly has appeared to become the "top duck" at Harlem Mere in terms of status.  She has taken on many of the vigilance and dominace behaviors and postures of her former mentor and companion.

I am guessing the kind of "hyper-alertness" and alarm-sounding behavior displayed Friday night by Wiggly is example of her willingness to accept top reign at Harlem Mere -- along with the responsibility that goes along with it.

I am reasonably confident that both Wiggly and Honker will survive the "super storm" that hurricane Sandy is predicted to be.  I am hoping that "Little Brad" (the injured and recovering mallard) will be smart enough to hang with and follow the lead of the two now formidable and (thanks to the original Brad) well schooled and educated ducks.  

So far, Little Brad has been doing exactly that and I trust he will continue so during the actual storm.

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Frolicking Geese -- Play Hard while the Going is Good?

Yesterday morning (Saturday) I went to the Boat Lake to check on the waterfowl situation there.

Unlike Harlem Mere (and specifically, Wiggly) the night before, none of the ducks or geese at the Boat Lake seemed in any way perturbed or alarmed.  On the contrary, they appeared to simply enjoy to the hilt, a peaceful October morning on the still and quiet water.

There were several families of Canada geese at the Boat Lake.

I don't think I have ever seen geese quite so frolicking and playful as the 20 or so geese observed yesterday.

Indeed, a number of them appeared like acrobats in a circus!  The geese performed somersaults in the water, literally going upside down, turning on their sides and practically doing back flips.  Others dunked and dived in the water, while still others were content to flap their wings and busily preen their feathers.

Was all of this almost frenetic activity an attempt to have fun and party hard while the going was good?

Perhaps.

Because for sure, once the storm actually starts with up to 80 MPH wind gusts and driving rains, all the birds will have to hunker down, protect themselves and potentially even go a day or two without food.

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"Proficient Egg Layers?"

In apparent anticipation of heavy rains and potential flooding, Central Park appears to have recently drained and lowered the levels of its manmade lakes and other watercourses.

While not especially noticeable at the fairly large Reservoir and Boat Lake, it was almost shocking to observe the water level at Harlem Mere lowered by almost two feet these past few days.

This makes it difficult for the domestic (flightless) ducks, Wiggly and Honker to easily hop up on embankments and grass, though the two are pretty creative in figuring other means.

Personally, I will be happy when the storm passes and water levels are restored back to normal.   The domestic water birds especially have enough challenges just bracing for and surviving the actual storm, as well as generally learning to live in the wild.

Speaking of "domestic ducks," I finally saw yesterday the two Khaki Campbell ducks who, according to witnesses were left at the Boat Lake in August, (supposedly to save them from slaughter).  I have taken the liberty of naming the romantic pair, "Jack and Jill" after the popular nursery rhyme.

(Khaki Campbell is also the seeming breed of both Wiggly and Honker at Harlem Mere who presumably were rescued from some waterfowl slaughtering plant and released to Central Park.)

Unlike Wiggly and Honker who are both girls, Jack and Jill at the Boat Lake are obviously a boy and girl (the males have a darker head and more striking color.)

The male and female Campbells at the Boat Lake appear to be inseparable and devoted to each other.  Wiggly and Honker, by contrast are not quite so attached at the hip and though mostly together have greater tendency to wander.

One wonders in noting a number of domestic ducks released to Central Park (and other parks) over the years, why they don't successfully breed and we end up with entire flocks of domestic ducks?

I am not sure of the answer to that, but suspect that although these domestic ducks appear more than capable of surviving in the wild, they apparently do not know how to nest in the outdoors or protect their eggs from predation.

This past spring for example, Wiggly appeared to have dropped an egg in the grass at Harlem Mere. At the time, she, Piggly and Brad walked around the egg, but Wiggly did not sit on it nor did she lay the egg in a safe and protected location.  She simply appeared confused and didn't know what to do.

So, while their wild instincts may kick in when forced to survive in the outside world, I don't believe the domestic ducks abandoned to city parks have quite figured out the art of laying and protecting their eggs yet, much less mastering the challenges of raising young in the outdoors. 

If and when that ever happens we could one day be dealing with the "invasive species" in  city parks known as Khaki Campbell ducks.

From the information available on Khaki Campbell ducks, they are supposed to be very "proficient egg layers."

Hm, stay tuned.....   --- PCA

                                                                


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