For breakfast I'd found that what's left of our loaf of bread had turned mouldy. This is the downside of honest artisan bread, is that it has no preservative and won't take the urban-life excuse of being too busy for meals, to be consumed within a few days. I salvaged what I could of one slice and spread on thick some avocado, salt+pepper and lemon juice. 'Twas flavourful enough to disguise any faults in an otherwise lovely wheat+rye blend bread.
The rest would be more trouble that it's worth even for croutons, and as I greatly dislike throwing food in the garbage (as well as it being a sunny spring afternoon today), I walked down to the Lost Lagoon in Stanley Park to feed it to the ducks et al. Having taken interest in wildlife from a young age as well as worked in a wild bird seed shop, I can say that bread is not the optimum diet for songbirds or waterfowl, since it expands in their stomach with water to make them feel full while supplying little nutritional value. As well, feeding the 'wild' ducks will cause them to skip migration and continue soiling an environment that typically needs a seasonal break from the stress of use. That being said, I know that there are probably the most un-wild ducks in the city of Vancouver, that Lost Lagoon is likely large enough to support the strain and has a team of Parks Board maintenance folks that monitor it, and that a little bread spread out to many critters shouldn't be too bad...
The sakura cherry blossom trees and ornamental plum trees are in bloom, and both locals and tourists alike were taking photos under the low pretty boughs near the entrance to the park. The air was alive with the drone of hummingbirds though I couldn't focus on any one in the forest. Being a weekday the paths weren't crowded and everyone had a friendly and open vibe. The kind of day that makes you want to say "hey" to strangers in passing, beyond the usual silent head nod, and smile aimlessly at nothing in particular. Why don't I do this more often??
The best spot is by the small stone bridge, which I noticed had been cleared from the enveloping blackberry thicket that the raccoons frequent. I settled on a bench there and enjoyed chatting with animals and people alike. I was surprised that a heron was interested in my bread, though he kept his distance at maybe 8 ft and was too proud to beg. A photographer was thankful that I kept him interested enough for her to get some nice shots. A beautiful seagull stayed close by me, surprisingly patient, not noisy or badgering the other birds. At one point I tossed crumbs just for him and he caught it without it touching the ground - 6, 7, 8 in a row like a dog. I'm sure we could've gone on all afternoon. In the water were mallards and wood ducks mostly, behind me to the forest were towhees, chickadees, fox sparrows, song sparrows, golden crowned sparrows, several crows, and one solitary red-winged blackbird. And one squirrel.
By the time I'd reached the end of my bread I realized all the people had left the bridge and pathways, the shade ticking away the sunshine on my bench. My dog-seagull flew away, and a younger slightly noisier one tried his best to imitate the attitude that he had watched score the previous one some crumbs. I was sorry I had none left to give, as he was putting on his best I'm-a-good-bird-too act, and giving me sad puppydog eyes as best as a seagull can. Eventually a raccoon approached me close and I again apologized for having nothing to offer. The seagull even had the core of my pear I'd brought for a snack.
The ducks dissipated, one of the last to leave was a male wood duck that settled on a rock in the sun about 3 ft from me. He didn't leave when he saw I had no food, so perhaps he was just enjoying the last of the sun edging away. He didn't move away when two ducks started to peck at him and tug on his foot, just made a minimal effort with his bill to send them farther away. He was alive and aware, but not keen on fleeing or fighting or really moving around much, so I guessed he was hurt and sat down with him awhile and ordered the bully ducks to move on. I am that crazy bird lady that will sing quietly to a hurt animal. I got to stroke his back, those beautiful iridescent feathers. Eventually he returned to the water and I saw one foot idling while the other paddled double-time to make up for it. He swam away.
I wandered home too, the sun was still out in some spots and warm enough. I love the tranquility, it recharges my batteries. I thought of that wood duck, wondered how long his leg's been hurt and if it'll cripple him in a naturally competitive environment and slowly kill him. And I wondered if he'd been living with this condition awhile and still managed to grow to adulthood and swim when he's so inclined. Animals are resilient and can adjust to bodily impedements with less complaint than humans can. I think he'll be fine.
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