I was going to use this photo for some post on creative flight or the new year or some other optimistic thought. Changed my mind.
A few weeks ago when I was down at the park, I noticed the size and number of these geese. Huge.
They are everywhere on the waterside park grounds, spreading across fields without concern, as if the park was made just for them. The fake coyotes are all torn up now from the wind, still spinning on their bent stakes, but the geese continue to graze in their shadow, fairly confident that they'll be undisturbed. It is pretty impossible to try to navigate around the waste they leave behind.
I walked the path and came around a sheltered corner where those few burst into flight. They usually ignore the walkers, our steady laps around the track as unthreatening as the hired dog who comes in the morning to chase. Geese flutter to the water, dog leaves, geese come right back. The strength in number makes them as nonchalant as the deer grazing at my door in the evening.
Like the poor starved deer in their subdivided habitats, this mess is pretty much of our own making. Clipping their wings decades ago for the sake of live decoys to aid the sport hunters encouraged them to stay north and stop their annual migration. So here they are. Adapted to the new deal. All ours.
After yesterday's US Airways crash as a result of engines ingesting these birds in flight - right down the very same river, leaving the very same airport I use - I'll add this to my laundry list of flight worries. I had one or two spots left I guess.
Thankfully, the pilot did a heroic job, saved the day with the help of the NY Waterway ferries and the story ended well. Except for the bird strike, it was looking like a good day to fly.
So I've said my piece, spoken up for the lamb, the deer and the goose. I'd better get back to crafts tomorrow.