The Gassing of the Geese: A Sad Day in Prospect Park

Huckleberry and Maybe, two pensive pups

I'm a country girl, born and reared in the rural outskirts of Battle Creek, Michigan (Cereal City, USA!). I grew up sandwiched in-between cornfields and a big lake, we never locked our doors at night, our dogs we leash-free. As kids, we played games like "Survive in the Wilderness" and climbed lots of trees. We knew when and where to look(out) for deer, and that the honks of geese flying over our heads meant the official start or end of a season. The great outdoors was just as integrated into my family's life as much as domesticity was, if not more, and we were taught to treat wildlife as something sacred, not disposable. The earth was ours to share and care for, not to destroy and mistreat.

Now I live in Brooklyn, NY. It's been quite an adjustment. There are so many people. There is so much waste. There is always a faint smell of urine and garbage, and we'd be crazy not to lock our doors at night. We have bars on our windows, and we live in a "fancy" neighborhood.

entrance to the park

Luckily, Andrew, the dogs and I live about a 4-minute-or-less walk from Prospect Park, a 585-acre public park in Brooklyn. We moved here from Manhattan JUST TO BE CLOSE to the park. We spend at least 3 hours in it every day, rain or shine. Every day. No joke: 2 hours in the morning for the dog's "off-leash time", and an hour or more in the evening for more playtime. I also jog around the park. It's where I've been doing all my marathon training.





We met the majority of our friends, not to mention some of our closest friends, in the park. My mentor, Vijay Seshadri, has a book of poems called "The Long Meadow", which is named after the section of the park where we take our dogs to run every day. I've grown accustomed to--I'm nurtured by--the park. In the fall, we listened to the migrating birds. In the winter, we made snow sculptures and went sledding.




On the weekends, there are free public concerts in the park. We have picnics here. We read books in the park. We come here to remind ourselves of what is important to us. We come here to forget that we are human and remember that we are animals.

This spring, we got to see the ducklings and the goslings swimming around the lake, peacefully coexisting with the swan and turtles. In fact, I usually hit this point of the park during the 2 mile mark of my jog. Watching the wildlife, and seeing parents introducing their little kids to the waterfowl, is one of the perks of the path.

But the geese are dead now.

They all were slaughtered. And not for any religious reasons or vengeance. Rather, they were gassed by the Department of Agriculture--the very people who we entrust to protect our wildlife and take care of it.

Their reason for the genocide? Air safety.

Apparently, ever since the "Miracle on the Hudson" authorities have been afraid of another incident (which was a freak accident). They're afraid of something that might cause harm or death, so they are exterminating anything that might get in the way of eternal life.

Okay, so maybe that's not how they put it, but still. One accident, one random accident, and now all the geese must go? Yep. Their goal is to eliminate all geese within a 7 mile radius of the major NYC airports. Because everybody knows, geese are terrorists. And if we kill them, we will never die.

But there's so many problems with their logic. Gasoline, aircrafts, destruction of nature. . . these are the things that are causing our demise. Not migrating geese. Not nature's natural patterns. And killing of animals as a preventative measure only hurts us in the longrun. Geese are part of the ecosystem. They're part of the food chain. These geese were gassed, double-bagged then dumped into a landfill. They killed over 400 Prospect Park geese, including the babies, and dumped them in a landfill. It was done as a secret operation--the public wasn't notified before or during the netting and slaughter. Then, the geese were disposed of--dumped in a landfill--not even used to feed the poor, or the hungry. Just turned into garbage.

Maybe learns about birds.

Here's the double-whammy: Prospect Park is at the far end of the 7 mile radius surrounding JFK. And these geese were of the non-migratory variety that don't leave Prospect Park. They didn't migrate. They never flew higher than a bottle rocket.

But now, they're gone.

For the past couple of days, Prospect Park has been eerily quiet.. The ponds are empty, and the other birds have been acting strange, too. Dead silent. Last night, I saw a bright white swan waddling around the shore, looking confused and lost.

I overhead a mother say that she'd been taking her daughter to the park every day to watch the animals, and her daughter had just learned how to say the word, "goose". . .

Something is terribly wrong.

So is it fair to say that the logic of the Agriculture Department, the NYC Parks Department and Audubon Society is . . . for the birds? Should they be reprimanded before it's too late?

Their next stop: the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge.

To learn more, click HERE.