All in the Family

By Keith Michael

And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
His sisters and his cousins,
Whom he reckons up by dozens,
And his aunts!
H.M.S. Pinafore, Gilbert and Sullivan

 

Hands down, the West Village wildlife story of the month is that right before sunset on an evening in early June, from the south rocks of Hudson River Park’s Gansevoort Peninsula, what should make landfall out of the surf—but a beaver! This may be the first time in decades, if not centuries, that Manhattan has welcomed a wild beaver to its shores. Though astonishing as a onetime appearance, I have heard that this bona fide, video-documented beaver has apparently made occasional encore landings at dawn and dusk. I have tried multiple times to make his/her acquaintance. Unsuccessfully. But do be on the lookout, y’all, for this singular sensation.

As well as my summer traipsings to the four corners of NYC and beyond (like I do) I’ve also spent a satisfying amount of time following the new avian families of the West Village. Last month’s spotlighted entourage, the Raven clan who nested on the back of a billboard at Ninth Avenue and 14th Street, continued to inspire nearly daily visits. As anticipated, the first chick fledged on June 1. I watched while it paced the roofline below the nest and tested the air as though wondering how these new-fangled wings actually work. By June 5, all four siblings were jostling between the nest, the roof below, the billboard across the street, as well as taking occasional forays circling the 14th Street intersection—pushing the boundaries of their new-found freedom. Since that week, they’ve been more freewheeling and unpredictable to track down. I’ve heard them around the neighborhood but have seen both parents and their four chicks all together—nevermore. Wish them well.

Sadly, the four duck families, after their first week hatching out near Gansevoort Peninsula, have gone missing. Out of the gate, there were three Mallard families with 11 ducklings, 4 ducklings, and 1 duckling each. I kept hoping that the resident Black Duck pair and the Gadwall pair would show up with a make-way-for-ducklings parade, but they still have not. The family I was particularly rooting for was a Black Duck hen and Mallard drake pair who started with six ducklings. Black Ducks and Mallards are not rigidly different species and can readily commingle. Mallard drakes are notoriously absent fathers, but this fellow was a faithful protector, shadowing his family and shooing away any other duck or goose who even looked his way. It’s rough raising ducklings along the river with so few places to safely get out of the water. The waves beating against the seawall can be brutal. The last time I saw the Black Duck mother, she was down to four ducklings. I hope that later in the summer some of the families will return with their, likely fewer, but fully-grown teenagers.

The cliffhanger drama of the summer, however, has been following the resident Canada Goose family. I’ve been a front row audience to the Canada Geese procreation in Hudson River Park for at least 14 summers. I like to think that it has been the same pair that raised goslings here all those years, or at least the same dynasty, but it’s impossible to know. This year on Saturday morning, May 2, I was lucky enough to be scanning the pile field at Gansevoort Peninsula when I heard a familiar goose ruckus. A pair was yelling at the fireboat pier. Next, I saw a gosling leap from the pier into the water. The honking continued until their full contingent of six goslings had made their first leap on their first outing from the nest! Following them around to the north salt marsh, I swelled to know that I had seen this new family on “Day One.” Within days, they had gotten into their rhythm of time on the rocks, in the water, and on the lawns. But by week’s end, they had lost one gosling and were down to five. This happens: traffic, off-leash dogs, rough water, natural causes. Surprisingly, on May 12, there was a new pint-sized adoption to the family, and they were back up to six! Then, on May 29, yet another new gosling appeared in the fold, swelling their number to SEVEN. What are the backstories of those two adopted goslings?

There was one more surprise to come. On June 6, a second Canada Goose family showed up with six goslings of their own. The unusual twist to this family is that there are THREE adults. Because the sexes of geese look exactly the same, though sometimes the gander is larger, there are so many possible permutations for the relationships between these three adults and these six goslings. Furthermore, is there a blood relationship between these two families? Canada Geese stay together as family groups from season to season with brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, oodles of cousins, and eventually, multiple generations wing to wing in the same flock. My dream scenario is that Family One is the matriarch/patriarch generation and that the Family Two adult trio are a combo of grownup goslings from last summer bringing their new family to meet the grandparents. The relationships between this summer’s thirteen youngsters could be exponentially complex. Work the math with the variables and see how many possibilities you can come up with! I like to think that the other 20-odd Canada Geese around the park are all extended family and that every day is a reunion. It’s worthy of a mini-series.

As of this writing, all the goslings are thriving and are in that awkward adolescence when they seem to be gray bundles with gangly feet and stubby wings. They’ve even started to get a shadow of their adult chin straps through their hatchling fuzz. In a few weeks you won’t be able to tell the kids from the parents, though you’ll still see them all swimming together into the fall sunsets.

Kudos to these geese for the success of their “modern” families.