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April 22, 2009

Riverside Park Dad winding down his day near the 79th Street exit on the Westside Highway.

Palemale going to sleep near the East Drive on Wednesday evening.

All images except for the last above were photographed in Riverside Park on Wednesday April 22, 2009.

CP Boathouse garbage (April 2009) It has been almost one year since I posted those images of the deplorable dumping of garbage (May 2008) in the Boathouse parking lot. Since then they have been very clean up until last weekend. They need a reminder that their restaurant is in the neighborhood of precious wild animals and they must be respectful of these animal's homes.

Boathouse Parking lot on Wednesday evening...Please realize that your letters and calls are indeed taken seriously.

I am sure you realize that I do not enjoy doing things like this (posting images of negligence in Central Park) since I much prefer to be taking photographs of beautiful things rather than garbage in parking lots. Thank you for your support and hopefully we'll see less ugliness in Central Park.

Please help stop the Central Park Conservancy from tormenting our poor Canada Geese with their hired bullies

One solitary goose remained on the pond after his three companions left hastily for reasons unknown towards the Lake. He called and cried and cried and called and I listened to his strong, soothing voice above all the other unsavory manmade sounds which appeared to me out of tune with the natural world unlike the voice of my hardy friend.
What can he possibly be trying to communicate with those random honking and repetitive cries?
Presently I was forced to listen to the casual conversation amongst four old men close by. I call it conversation but I must reconsider the use of that word to describe the chatter I heard from these four men. I do not have the heart to transcribe the exchange of words from these men who certainly lived through more than a dozen presidents and as many wars. These men who grew up in a developed country with free libraries and schools could only muster such words as they did to elevate themselves above the cries of that solitary goose placed themselves in a false position at least for my ears.
I thought of finding that misguided man who coined the phrase ‘with age comes wisdom’, and compelling him to be an audience to this singular conversation as punishment for his profane phrase.
But I listened to the goose and his wonderful voice and marveled how meaningful his profound cries were to those which can understand it, like the trees and the rays of sunlight.
Call some more my solitary friend, drown out those blasphemous sounds which try to interrupt your beautiful voice. Send your voice sailing on the Wind for I cannot think of a more trustworthy messenger. Cry out and sound your precious voice as you have done for so long before Man’s contemptible voice took over the earth. Carry on with your calls as you certainly will be doing long after our voices are silenced forever. When that welcomed day comes the trees will have nothing else to corrupt your sweet voice and all the other animal voices which by right should be the only voices allowed to speak.