Gism Butter

Fri, 14 May 2004

Harold

So the alarm was set to go off at 6:05. At 6:00, someone rang out doorbell, twice. We didn't answer it. It's never for us anyway. Always someone trying to get ahold of one of the guys in our building who sell nefarious substances. We never ask, they never tell. But the junkies that show up on our doorstep are quite annoying.

So, we let them ring and ring and ring. All our friends have cell phones anyway. Five minutes later, V got out of bed to the strains of Vivaldi. I slept in for a little while more, but once she was dressed, I lurched out and clothed myself. It wasn't easy: the previous evening I had been at the Korean Bar nextdoor for a Tribe pub crawl. Lots of Soju. In fact, a whole half bottle per person. Not good.

So, we left at about 6:45 and got to Lake Merritt shortly thereafter. V usually walks to entire lake in "Butt Buster" mode. That means she walks the three miles like an honest to god power walker. But today, since she hadn't walked since the weekend, and I hadn't been in at least a month, we walked slowly.

We started out at the bird sanctuary where they fresh water and feed is. It's a regular waterfowl watering hole. Lake Merritt is brackish water, so this is the only place the geese, ducks, night herons, egrets, and other birds can get a drink.

The only reason I do these walks now-a-days is to see the babies. They've all hatched now, save the Coot babies, who we can't find. All the Coots are hidden too, so they must be nested by now. But the Canada Geese are in full bloom. Some of those babies are already about half full sized. They're practically teenagers already!

So, near the crew docks, the babies all gather with their parents, since there's a beach there and the wee ones can climb onto the shore easily. The rest of the lake is walled off, and inaccesible to the stumpy legged little feathery dudes.

Lots of babies this morning, though. There were two geese that held a flock of about 19 two month olds. They couldn't possibly have all belonged to this couple, but they sure did act like their mom was in the lead.

The Geese of Lake Merritt don't migrate. They hang out here all year. There are probably too many of them for the sanctuary to take care of, but they don't seem to mind or complain.

We wandered around the lake further, and came upon an open expanse near the road and a walled section of the shore where there were no geese in sight. Here, we found Harold, the lost baby goose. He was waddling back and forth across the grass, peeping for his mommie. He couldn't have been more than two weeks old. I forgot my camera, but he looked quite a bit like the wee lad pictured below.

Well, Harold was very scared. He waddled down the steep rocky slope into the water and began swimming out into the lake. About five feet from the shore, he picked up a chase bird, a grey seagull with a bad attitude. The Seagull began biting poor Harold's little feathery butt. He got him about three or four times before Harold turned back for shore. V and I were watching with broken hearts. A few other bystanders watched as well, and a middle aged man grabbed some bark, broke it up and threw it at the seagull. He succeeded in chasing the gull off, and Harold made it back to shore, peeping loudly with fear and desperation.

It took him a while to climb back onto the grass, and we waited until he made it across the path and onto an open patch. Then V and I cornered him, and V made an amazing last ditch throw with her hat. Harold was running towards the road, but V's hat landed directly on to of him, a perfect trap. I scooped him up in my flannel jacket, and we caried him back to the sanctuary, about a mile away.

We went into the nature center there and met a worker who was obviously there early. We handed over Harold, but were reprimanded for having saved him. "That's nature." said the thin black man who grabbed Harold firmly in one hand. "You should have left him."

Well, we said, he was being attacked by a seagull. The man waivered in his speech, but finally rebuked us once more.

Well, fuck him. Nature is in the woods. This is downtown Oakland, and this poor little guy was doomed without our help. His parents were nowhere to be found, and they likely had more kids, so they couldn't just leave them behind and go flying ot look for their lost baby. He was so wee and cute, V and I couldn't possibly leave him there to be eaten by some psychotic seagull.

Harold's little fuzzy neck was saved, and I don't care if there are too many geese to feed or take care of. I'm better for having helped that little guy.

I think this is a bit overblown.

By the way, there's a new photo gallery up now.