A Brief Shudder in the Garden

Here is a story: you can decide whether it's a tragedy or a comedy. Yesterday I went to Parc Lafontaine in the late afternoon; it was a beautiful, perfect Canada Day and the park was full of quiet groups enjoying each other's company. I sat at the western side, near the fountain, where the bank forms a sort of amphitheater and is covered with long grass. Maybe six other small groups or couples were in the area too, and we all got amused watching a little duckling, newly on its own, swimming around near the shore. A couple, close to it, kept getting up to look when the duckling disappeared in the reeds, and then they'd exchange delighted glances, the girl leaning forward on the bench and pressing her hands together while her investigating boyfriend conveyed his love in backward, big-eyed looks whenever he spotted the little creature, still with patches of fuzzy yellow on its back.

So there you have the scene. Enter a man, thirty-ish, dressed in black, wearing a slouchy hat and sunglasses, accompanied by a smiling huskie-like dog. He lets the dog off the leash and sits in the grass alone, listening to a CD player that he places beside him. After half an hour or so, he gets up to leave, about when I'm thinking of leaving too, and tosses a red ball into the water and whistles for his dog. The dog jumps into the lake but ignores the ball because, of course, he sees motion heading out toward the fountain: the darling little duckling. All of us watch in growing horror as the dog closes in on the frantically swimming baby bird. The man is now standing on the shoreline, calling to the dog, who ignores him. The dog lunges at the bird; no, he's not close enough. The duckling swims ahead, leaving a wake. The dog closes in again. The duckling suddenly tries to dive - an instinctive attempt at escape - but he's too buoyant; he can't make himself go down desipe the desperate flapping of his little upended feet. He pops to the surface -- the dog opens his mouth, lunges forward -- and the duckling disappears. The dog, mouth now closed, turns and paddles triumphantly toward the shoreline where his master is standing, arms at his sides, barking sharp commands. The dog comes up onto the shore, there's a scuffle in the bulrushes as the master tries to empty his mouth; we can't see what's happening; the master snaps on the leash and drags the dog onto the path, looking as discomfited as an actor in the spotlights who has suddenly forgotten the lines of his soliloquy. Those of us who've witnessed the deed stare at the water, casting stunned sideways glances toward each other; no one says a word, and the man, walking stiffly, and his dog exit down the path the way they came.

--

I left and went home, where I told J. the story, which, in spite of my love for the park's ducklings, made us both laugh - it was just so, so...shatteringly non-idyllic. Rather like "Bambi meets Godzilla." And maybe the duckling had survived -- though I doubted it.

I made a picnic of grilled chicken; a salad of Quebec wax beans with shitakes, water chestnuts and walnuts; goat cheese; peaches, raspberries, and mango tossed with a little cognac; and some strong coffee. The two of us carried it all over to the park, spread out a blanket, and took our place among the lovers in their bikinis, the cello and tabla players, the solo readers and meditators, the couple behind us smoking a water pipe, the family picnickers lying in the magical late afternoon sun while their babies rolled and ran in the grass: all happily oblivious to the earlier murder except for a gull who called raucously for an entire hour from the top of a light pole near the shoreline: "If only you knew!"

Comments

[Kaycie]

I know you doubt it, but I choose to think the cute little guy made it.

[Cordelia]

I'm surprised no one jumped in the water and tried to intervene (especially the dog owner). That's just shameful.

[dale]

Oh dear. Both, I guess.

[pat]

I'm afraid I laughed too... not that it isn't very sad. But, I laughed.
Nature is one Tough Cookie and I think of such things everytime I pray, "Thy will be done."
Tell that to the little ducky! ...I guess it's good we can laugh.

[Kate]

Sad story but part of life, I guess. It's good you didn't see feathers fly or blood. But what I want is your cooking! Wish I'd been along on that yummy picnic.

[beth]

Cordelia, I wondered why the owner didn't jump in, too. It all happened very fast, and far out in the water, but I think the owner was frozen and all the bystanders were sort of waiting for him to act, and then it was over. I was way too far away to get there. I wonder if he had beaten the dog if people would have been just as shocked at that - the French are real nature-lovers, idealizing and romanticizing it, and seem way more sensitive to the rights of animals and even plants than I'm used to. They were crazy about films like "Winged Migration" and the one about the penguins - and of course, the French gave us Jacques Cousteau! On another occasion a friend of mine did jump into one of these lakes to rescue a baby duck she thought (erroneously) was in danger.

[EJ]

Your blog is very interesting and I read it regularly.

Today I was struck by the juxtaposition between your duckling story and the mention of your lunch chicken. At least one bird didn't "make it".

Which animals are "worth" rescuing? At who's cost/inconvenience?
Food for thought.

[Robb]

Kia ora Beth,
I don't know if I agree that is Nature's Way in a park where the dog was brought into the scene by its owner. Not exactly the Kahlahari plains and survival of the fittest. The chicken reads delightful, I'm hungry! Kia ora Beth.
Rangimarie,
Robb

[beth]

EJ, I'm glad you enjoy the blog, and thanks for your comment - I wondered if anyone would pick up on that. Yes, the killing we don't see is so much easier to ignore, isn't it?

Robb, my feeling exactly. Dog owners who let their dogs run in parks and near water ought to be thinking about the consequences. I don't blame the dog, anymore than I blame a cat for catching songbirds - hunting is in their nature. We're the ones who have to exercise control; it's part of the responsibility that comes with domestication. If a hawk had come out of the sky and snatched the duckling, I think everyone would have felt differently.

[Zuleme]

for me, it would have been just a tragedy. I love ducks and used to have them here, sometimes they will drop out of the sky into my backyard pond. One year we had one arrive that had been attacked by something and we fed her until she healed. The next year she returned with a mate and babies. They were safe in our yard. No dogs.
There is nothing more joyful then a duck in a puddle or the rain.

[Lucy]

You can't easily stop a dog like that when it's onto something... I think I felt most cross with the owner fro doing something so intrusive as throwing a ball into the water for a big dog to chase anyway, with the conesequences of disturbing wildlife and other park users...

I'm quite intrigued by the couple smoking the water pipe!

[Peter]

A well-told story! As the parent of a child who occasionally makes me squirm, I feel for the owner, who was probably tossing the ball the same way he had done dozens of times before.

Depending on the dog, the duckling might have made it. Some retrievers have a soft "mouth" and can bring birds back to their masters unharmed.

[Natalie]

I also wondered why no one dared say anything to the dog-owner. Over here in the UK someone would definitely have had a go at him. Throwing a ball for the dog to catch in a duck pond is either stupid or callous or both.
But I agree, sympathy for animals is indeed inconsistent: which one do we give our support to? The baby duck? The dog? The dog-owner? The chicken that was made into a tasty salad?
All of these? None of these?

Great story in any case :)

[lisa]

i'd say tragedy, although the bit of irony with the duckling's unfortunate buoyancy could be a bit comedic in a sad sort of way. great story--well told! loved it. i'm drooling over your picnic too, btw.