Angelique Rivard and Ally Bernstein
Recent breaking news of the Village of Scarsdale’s plan to slaughter the group of geese who consider Audrey Hochberg Pond their home, along with their babies in March, and then donate the meat to a local food bank has caused quite a stir among interested members of the public. After receiving complaints from local attendees of the pond explaining they “were tired of stepping around the droppings” and claimed the geese were “attacking them” after people got “too close to their eggs,” the Village of Scarsdale decided the best solution would be to enter into a contract with the USDA, slaughter the geese, and feed them to the needy.
Unfortunately, slaughtering geese is not news to the residents of Westchester County, as the county routinely kills geese in an effort to control population. But has the county gone too far and made killing geese before considering any alternatives too easy and too commonplace? Has the village gone too far in claiming they are doing a public service by killing the geese and feeding it to the poor?
Before we make the case for the Scarsdale Geese, let us make a disclaimer: we can all agree that wildlife control issues are a sensitive subject due to the varying viewpoints across the board from wildlife protectionists, animal welfarists, environmental conservationists, hunters, and the general public. In many cases, such as those dealing with population control, the issues are: what is the best solution and what factors do we need to consider in implementing the solution. Such factors include: whether or not the targeted animal is a danger or threat to other animals and humans; what the costs of implementing the solution are; and what the environmental and ecological impacts of dealing with the target animal will have in the future. Dealing with any one of the multitude of factors often leaves the interest groups on opposite sides of the fence or right on the fence, making for long debates over what the final solution will be. Finding a solution usually requires extensive research about all of the factors and a thorough investigation into the impacts of the final decision.
But the issue here is much more than an animal rights issue. It is an economic issue. Instead of being applied to educational or safety initiatives, taxpayer dollars will be used to fund the slaughter. And furthermore, this type of “solution” is inefficient since the geese will just return, inducing a habitual slaughter of geese every year. It is also a human rights issue. While feeding the poor and hungry is of great concern, shouldn’t the food being fed to them be monitored as if it were sold in grocery stores? The geese in Scarsdale have fed on chemically fertilized grass for their entire lives, making their meat unsuitable for human consumption. And furthermore, the plans to have the geese meat inspected by the FDA prior to distribution to the food bank are inconclusive. It is an environmental issue. Wildlife, humans and nature all must coexist in order to have a symbiotic ecosystem. While it is true that geese are not endangered, setting these types of precedents can have scourging consequences for other species in the near future. It would seem illogical to extinguish a particular species in a certain area any time they grew too inconvenient for another species
And of course, to come full circle, it IS an animal rights issue. Protection for the geese and humans alike, who share the aesthetics of the Audrey Hochberg pond must be achieved. They must live in harmony in order to survive. Often, the reason conflicts occur is due to children approaching the nests of eggs and disturbing them. Many times, children step on these eggs for sport. Just like any mother of any species, they have protective instincts to chase away predators. If the geese were not provoked, there would be little to no reason for attacks. As humans, we cannot cause part of the problem and then take no responsibility in its negative repercussions.
As responsible humans capable of understanding what is wrong and right, we need to make it a priority to explore alternatives to slaughtering a group of animals rather than opting to wipe out groups of animals without extremely compelling reasons. Alternatives that have been used to combat this issue in other parts of Westchester County have included relocating the geese, installing a fence that is high enough to keep the geese out, the use of border collies to round up the geese, deterrence mechanisms, and the use of decoys to mimic the natural predators. While some of these options might not be feasible for use at this particular pond, we are sure that at least one of them is a more practical, cost effective, and humane alternative.
So, what can you do? If you are a constituent in the Village of Scarsdale your voice will have great influence. Speak out to your representatives and tell them that you oppose this inhumane solution. Attend a Scarsdale Village Board Meeting. The upcoming meetings are scheduled for Feb. 13th and Feb. 26th. You can find more information about these meetings here. Even if you are not a Scarsdale resident, like us, you can still speak out. Find out who your Westchester County Legislator is by going to this website. If you do plan to attend a meeting, bring a petition with you stating that you “Oppose the Scarsdale Geese Slaughter” and get as many signatures as possible. It is our duty to give voice to the voiceless and take action to prevent unnecessary extermination of undeserving groups of animals.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tagged: environmental, geese, human rights, Scarsdale, slaughter, USDA, wildlife control |
Animal Blawg 
Reblogged this on Time for Action.
I am not sure who is being hated on more here, the geese or the poor! Thanks for bringing this issue to light.
The global health of the electrolyte that nature provides these animals to maintain for humanity too is really the only issue. Does the presence of these animals in this particular area require the chemical these animals provide in that area to sustain human electrolyte health and if so the animals stay put and human interference ends. The rest is just a personal crusade. Nature has it’s reason for populating where it populates.
Government true needy’s, top positions, has a history of using these issues to repopulate themselves for need. Fact protection is happening for all people. Public’s can easily identify them by they simply don’t provide the solution to the problem. They fingerprint, promise, get their support to repopulate then drop the public concern. Fact on the electrolyte health. The plague is a direct result of those that have serious mental health disease that kill people with serious mental health disorders.
Paranoia with, delusional disorders, narcissism, and more serious mental health issue all in one head probably suffered a lot of death by plague and it is usually government supporters themselves. Not their public puppets.
“If the geese were not provoked, there would be little to no reason for attacks. As humans, we cannot cause part of the problem and then take no responsibility in its negative repercussions.”
‘Nuff said.
Killing is for a cop-out. It solves nothing. It simply engenders more strife.
When are our public servants going to wise up and realize that speciesism is the real culprit.
Turn foxes loose in the park.
Then, instead of stomping on eggs, and risk being bitten or wing-failed by livid geese, children could get a first-hand experience of the predator-prey relationship in action, and the goose population would be kept naturally in check.
Turn Love loose in the park.
Then, instead of stomping on eggs, and risk being bitten or wing-failed by livid geese, children could get a first-hand experience of the power of divine Love in action, quelling all mortal beliefs and fear and hatred, including the much-hyped “predator-prey relationship.”
And the individuals called geese and the individuals called humans would be as brothers and sisters, living harmoniously side by side, expressing the eternal oneness and the infinite diversity of the sole Maker of the real world — a world made by and of Spirit, by and of Mind, by and of Love, by and of Life. A world which is, indeed, “very good” (Genesis 1:31).
I am totally against this inhumanity. I contacted my representatives (Sen. Gillibrand & Sen. Schumer), but had difficulty e-mailing Sen. Sean Patrick Maloney – the email kept returning to me advising he cannot respond outside his district. I live in Pelham, NY. Do you have an e-mail for him? I’m also attempting to contact his office by phone. Thanks. – Jessica J. Baron
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BlessUs..
Are you suggesting, predators need sensitivity training?
I am suggesting that humans who believe themselves to be the “top predator” learn that the so-called carnivorous nature is *not* what controls the *real* man (or woman) of Spirit’s making.
A friend of mine who contributes articles to a magazine on spirituality and healing gives an example proving that when any sort of strife or fear in a human’s consciousness is conquered by Love’s all-power, there is, correspondingly, no room in the mirror-like nonhuman’s thought for these bestial traits to exist. She writes:
[I]f we “bite and devour” [a quote from the Bible] and consume one another with anger, revenge, greed, envy, and hatred, with gossip and destructive criticism, with self–righteous judgment and condemnation; if we prey on one another in business, on someone else’s marriage partner, on the talents, ideas, achievements, possessions of others, wouldn’t this be the kind of thinking and action that would define the carnivorous nature and be reflected outwardly in the ferocious beast, venomous creature, and animalistic mortal? Wouldn’t we be throwing our weight into the scale of world thought on the side of animality, rather than on the side of the Christly love that actually neutralizes and destroys animality in all its forms, whether expressed through man or beast?
Some years ago, I visited a country in East Africa and was confronted with the most graphic presentation I’d ever had of the predator/prey relationship, haunting the primitive beauty of the African landscape. Much was said about predation simply being “nature,” the “way things are,” the “survival of the fittest.” Yet in the midst of all this, I met a man who shared an extraordinary experience that spoke of the power of selfless love to neutralize animality and save both man and beast—that presented a glimpse of the presence and activity of creation’s higher and truly harmless nature as the manifestation of Mind.
This man had been educated in wildlife management and had been a game warden in this African nation. He deeply loved the animals he was committed to protecting from poachers, but because of the dangerous nature of his work, he also needed to be able to shoot quickly and accurately. One day when he was out in the bush, a two-and-a-half ton rhinoceros came charging straight at him. Although he had his gun, he found he couldn’t kill this highly endangered animal. “I saw him coming,” he explained, speaking softly, “but I suddenly knew I couldn’t kill him. I just couldn’t do it.” He was so filled with unconditional love for the creature that there was nothing in him that could do less than offer his own life for the life of the rhino. He threw his gun to the side and fearlessly stood there, certain that he was facing death, but incapable of taking any other course. “But when the rhino reached me,” he said, “he only threw me a few feet into the air and went on his way.”
I was so moved by what I’d heard, by this pure love for an “enemy,” that I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks. Of course, there’s no way to know for certain why the rhino didn’t kill, or even injure him.
But it wouldn’t have been the first time that unconditional love or childlike innocence—conditions of human consciousness that reflect the divine—on the part of an intended victim neutralized an atmosphere charged with violence, and disarmed an attacker. So I cannot help but feel that the rhino was “disarmed,” and his own spiritual, harmless innocence revealed, by the harmlessness of the human being in front of him. Had the man’s thought been imbued with fear, anger, or animality, the outcome might have been quite different for both of them.
More significant, however, is the fact that this experience convincingly illustrates the naturalness of love, the constant presence and activity in human consciousness of the higher nature, the Christ—the nature that includes not the slightest element of mortality. The presence of the Christ, the reflection of divine Love in every human consciousness, is the presence of that which spurns violence, doesn’t enjoy a “kill” (literally or figuratively), and cannot be made to engage in biting, devouring, consuming thinking. Additionally, this experience, like all of the countless, quiet acts of genuine spirituality that have woven their way through history, illustrates the selfless love that is the heart of true theology, capable of transcending conventional doctrines and beliefs, and healing whatever would divide mankind.
BlessUs, Human vegetarianism is a noble subject — and though not a vegetarian myself, I consider it a reasonable and noble path.
However, in terms of biological taxonomy, homo sapiens evolved as an opportunistic omnivore. Therefore, there’s no harm or wrong — in terms of the natural world — with us hunting or killing for meat.
(Massive factory farming of captive animals to supply a societal diet based upon gorging on copious amounts of meat is another matter, but I digress.)
The story about the man and the Rhino is interesting, but I don’t see “love” in it, so much as rank foolishness. Reason and intelligence, not completely irrational “love” is what makes us human.
If somebody wishes to risk his life out of love for a wild beast that couldn’t care a crap less — that is his prerogative, and I have no quarrel with the sincerity or integrity of a person willing to die for his ideas.
However, that doesn’t mean I have to agree either. Helplessness and foolhardiness are not virtues in nature.
All that said, my point was not about humans eating geese, but rather, natural predators being allowed to control the goose population. (Granted, having a population of foxes, or coyotes around in a metropolitan or suburban setting comes with its own set of complications.)
There is no bad or wrong in one creature killing and eating another. It goes on all over the world, all the time. Always has, and always will. A fox with a bloody muzzle and a mouth full of feathers has done no wrong. And, if we have become so disconnected from the primal, visceral way of things, that such a sight might offend or make us squeamish, then that says far more about us, than it does the blood, guts, teeth, claws and talons of nature.
As I said, helplessness and blind, irrational love have no place in nature. Nature is too utilitarian to suffer such things.
Again, if some of us choose to not consume flesh — that is all well, good, noble and admirable. But, even the growing, protection and harvest of crops of grain and vegetables or orchards of fruit requires the clearing of some land, and the displacement or killing of some creatures.
“There is no bad or wrong in one creature killing and eating another. It goes on all over the world, all the time. Always has, and always will. ”
Because something has “always” gone on, it transcends judgment?
If we are to continue to evolve, we should continually be questioning and judging that which “always has” been, in order that it should be different – and better – going forward.
A quote comes to mind: “Teaching a child not to step on a caterpillar is as valuable to the child as it is to the caterpillar.”
Kelly, projecting human judgement on to nature is daft.
My point was, if we’re talking purely in terms of biological taxonomy, there’s no more wrong or harm in homo sapiens — an opportunistic omnivore — eating geese, than there would be foxes or coyotes.
Nature sees no tragedy in death.
Now, whether some humans decide that not consuming animal flesh is a hallmark of higher civilization is another matter, and I have no essential quarrel with that. As I’ve stated before, I think vegetarianism is a noble and admirable choice.
On the other hand, I don’t consider being a resident of Planet Earth a spectator sport. Therefore, I do choose to hunt for some of the food, in the form of animal flesh, that I and my family consume.
“What” we might do, isn’t really nearly so vital a question as “how” it is done — when it comes to our interaction with the environment around us.
http://www.csmonitor.com/1983/0331/033107.html
March 31, 1983
Innocence abroad
by Henry N. Ferguson
My wife was preparing breakfast as I stood at a dining room window gazing beyond a sentinel row of palm trees at the early morning sun forcing its rays through wisps of Texas fog. Our three-year-old daughter, Becky, was in the backyard, her attention riveted to the antics of a pair of quarreling blue jays.
Suddenly I snapped to attention. An awesome creature, ugly and misshapen, was meandering up the alley. In the hazy light of the early morning it appeared like a monster out of the past. It was a huge thing, armed with long, curving tusks; down its high arched back ran a great ridge, crowned with stiff bristles. I realized suddenly what it was: a pugnacious javelina, the fierce wild hog of the Southwest plains country.
I took no time to ponder where it came from or how it had managed to penetrate a thickly populated residential section, for it was progressing slowly, grunting, sniffing and rooting with its long snout as it ambled along. I started to shout to Becky to run inside, but I was too late. She and the animal had sighted each other simultaneously. The grunting shifted to a low menacing rumble. The tip of the long nose was an inch from the ground, gleaming button eyes were fastened on my daughter, the beast’s four stubby legs were braced to charge.
I started to dash up the stairs for a gun but knew I could never get it in time. As though hypnotized, I stared at the drama that was unfolding just a few yards away.
Becky was approaching the javelina, hands outstretched, making gurgling childish sounds as she advanced. The hog stood its ground and the grunts became more threatening. I looked at those fearsome tusks and the sharp even teeth — one slash could lay a man open.
I started to call to my wife, but something held me mute. If she should look out the window and scream, a chain reaction might be touched off that could end in terrible tragedy.
Becky, who had been only a few steps away from the beast when they first sighted each other, closed the distance between them with calm deliberation. With hands still outstretched, she reached the side of the beast. One small hand went up to a tough, bristly ear and began scratching it. The deep-throated rumblings gradually turned into a gravelly, almost purring sound. I thought irrelevantly of the idling of a powerful motor. The top of the round, wet nose was gently nudging against Becky’s ankle. The animal seemed actually to be enjoying the attention he was receiving, and my pulse beat slowly dropped to normal. Some perception within the ugly creature must have told him that he had nothing to fear from this tiny child.
The encounter ended as abruptly as it had begun. Becky suddenly turned away and came toward the house. The javelina seemed to realize that the short love feast was over and slowly ambled on its way.
Becky passed me as she came through the room. ”Nice doggie, Daddy,” she said nonchalantly.
Hal, in response to a few of your points. You write:
“There is no bad or wrong in one creature killing and eating another. It goes on all over the world, all the time. Always has, and always will. A fox with a bloody muzzle and a mouth full of feathers has done no wrong.”
How is it, then, that coyotes across the west are mercilessly gunned down and trapped for doing this very thing? If there is “no bad or wrong in one creature killing another” and yet you support predator hunting (which on some level, you do, based on our wolf hunt discussions) then your argument comes across as one where projecting human ideas onto nature is fine as long as you’re the one who decides which of those qualities is applied.
On that same topic you say, “Nature sees no tragedy in death.”
How do you know? First, nature being a nebulous idea rather than a tangible entity, the phrase has very little meaning. But let’s say that nature as an arbiter in this situation exists. How do you know — without projecting — that there isn’t great tragedy associated with death? I’ve seen immense suffering through loss in nature. Have you see or watched video of sandhill cranes left behind, both mates and young, after one is gunned down? If there is a nature as a governing force of that death, she would construe it as tragedy that the remaining young cranes probably won’t survive. Particularly with animals whose numbers are diminished, like whooping cranes. This is such a broad and impossibly unverifiable statement as to be meaningless. I see it used almost exclusively to justify human violence against other species.
Lastly, you say, “I don’t consider being a resident of Planet Earth a spectator sport. Therefore, I do choose to hunt for some of the food, in the form of animal flesh, that I and my family consume.”
So, your implication is that not engaging violence directly means you are somehow less engaged in life, in the process of life, in living and dying, in “nature”? Do you propose engaging all life forms, including humans, in the same way? Are we less involved with existence by leaving other human beings to live their lives as they see fit? That’s a pretty preposterous contention. And talk about projection of your values onto a greater system.
I would argue first, that we are all spectators — including other species who very often interact or react to each other without any killing. A hunter in a deer blind is nothing but a spectator … until he fires one shot and tries to retrieve the carcass. That’s hardly a level of symbiotic engagement that one could hold on a high moral ground.
I would further argue that hunters could be construed as much more limited spectators than those of us who live in quiet immersion with our surroundings, interacting just as much but without the very alienating act of exercise violent power over the animals in our midst. I was at an elk hunting scene, inadvertently, not that many years ago. I came upon a herd of elk, sitting, watching, unobtrusive. As the elk left me in the direction of forest, a shot rang out. The herd trampled over themselves to get back to the safety of where I’d been sitting. The cows comforted their young, all were crying out in confusion, having been dispersed and separated after the shock of the shot. The herd was struggling to find some equanimity.
This is not a scene the hunter will ever see. He takes a shot and retrieves his animal, and is no longer a part of the scene, the social system, the ecology that he has so totally disrupted. I see this time and again in the wetlands, with duck hunting, where hunters raise up from their blinds, take their shots, fell and retrieve some birds (if they’re lucky and don’t cripple them), but never engage beyond that interaction. It’s those of us on the other side of the violence who are truly immersed in the experience of the animal — feeling for the suffering we encounter, hearing the shots ring out through our environments in the same way the animals do, watching their reactions to the disruptions in their lives. Hunters convince themselves that their totally disruptive sport is active immersion when, in fact, their immersion ends after their joy in the hunt is over.
Thank you, BlessUsAll for those poignant readings. I don’t have an idealized vision of human and nonhuman interaction, but your readings show the beautiful variability in human and nonhuman behavior and interaction. It cannot be generalized as consistently violent and utilitarian. All animals are too complex to reduce any of them to those mechanisms.
Ingrid,
Jumping from seeing no wrong in a fox killing and eating a goose, to the wholesale — and according to mounting evidence, largely ineffective — slaughter of coyotes “just because,” is a non-sequitor.
As always, you seem to want to try going around, or perhaps under, my points of general principle, by trying to bog them down with anecdotes of specific instance.
In general principle, humans killing some predatory animals for specific reasons is perfectly in tune with the natural axiom of every creature defending its turf.
In specific instance, that practice can be taken way too far, and out of context and — as with the case of unmitigated slaughter of coyotes — end up causing more problem than it solves.
Likewise, in general principle, some humans killing wild animals for food is perfectly in tune with the natural axiom of the food chain.
But the wholesale gunning of creatures for giggles and guffaws — to the point that it throws entire species out of balance, is another matter entirely.
While individual creatures might suffer terror in the face of death, and grief afterwards, nature in the objective doesn’t care a damn — that was my point. Nature exists and runs on some things culling the plant life by killing and eating it, and other things culling those things, by killing and eating them.
If nature agonized over the individual fate and/or discomfort of every single creature, then the system would collapse in short order.
Your sweeping generalizations of hunters also strike me as shallow. They seem to assume that those who hunt, do nothing but that, and have no interaction with, or understanding of, nature and animals otherwise.
In actuality, it’s no accident that much of the conservation movement as we know it today, was started by hunters.
It’s also no accident that many hunters are devoted pet and livestock owners, and actually tend toward unusually high empathy for and understanding of animals. So, again, I question just how much time you’ve spent around hunters, or how deeply you’ve ever engaged many of us in conversation.
Here’s a hint, hunters — or at least the good ones among us — obsess over making clean, quick, humane kills for a reason.
Also, quite a lot goes on before the shot is taken. (If indeed, the opportunity every arises — more often than not, my hunting trips end with no shot opportunity.)
If you think, as hunters, most of us are just sitting around during that time, not really paying attention to nature or the other creatures around us, and just resenting the fact that there’s nothing there to shoot at — you’re sorely mistaken.
Hunting is a deeply, profoundly immersive process for me, and for many others.
Again, think not “what,” but “how.” I can think of numerous examples, where a wrong “how” can make hunting boorish, shallow, crass and completely disconnected from nature.
But, that’s true of anything.
Much more goes on after the animal is killed. It’s far more involved than just “retrieving a carcass.” Getting the flesh I’ll use to feed myself out of the field and into the freezer is a physically daunting, multi-stepped task — and I resent none of it.
If you’re objection is that animals might suffer some terror or distress at being pursued or shot at — or having one of their number killed — then I fully acknowledge that’s the case.
Predation ain’t pretty — whether it’s done with teeth and claws, talons, or arrows and bullets — and neither is the aftermath, as the survivors scramble for safety.
But think about it; if survivors did not scramble, and the young bleat for their mothers — then the species wouldn’t stand much chance of long-term survival.
However, again, if you’re going to try to argue that there is somehow an objective wrong in that — when the primary goal is to harvest food directly from the Earth and nature — then I think that has more to do with your personal distaste for the process, than any objective reasoning.
Finally, while BlessUs did share same heartwarming anecdotes, they don’t establish much, except that they are interesting, unusual stories.
Suggesting, for example, that javelinas are just big softies at heart, because one particular four-year-old got astoundingly lucky with one particular javelina under a weird set of circumstances — would be like suggesting that because somebody once saw a man bounce a running chainsaw off his leg and came out unscathed — that must mean chainsaws aren’t really so dangerous after all.
(And yes, I really did see that happen once — the chainsaw thing, that is.)
Two years ago I read an article, “The Shark We Saved,” by a man who, while on a dive trip in Hawaii, heard talk of a five-foot-long shark who was unable to eat because a large fishing hook was lodged in the back of his mouth. It seems that, some three weeks earlier, a fisherman had unintentionally caught the shark then had intentionally cut his fishing line, leaving the shark not only defenseless but also sentencing him to starving to death.
The article’s author, William Deane, wrote, in part:
A few of us who were diving in the area thought we might be able to free the shark in some way. I’m an experienced diver, and my buddies were divemasters who knew those waters very well. They’d already been down to the cave the shark was resting in, seeing it firsthand, so we knew we needed to use wisdom and skill moving forward.
Even though I fully expected we could help the shark, when we dived down that day, I was surprised that we had no trouble finding the shark at the mouth of a cave, which the fish was using as a “safe house” from other attackers. It looked to be a “teenager,” not yet fully grown and had been in that predicament for a couple of weeks by then. It clearly hadn’t been able to eat in weeks. And it couldn’t close its mouth properly because of the hook.
My prayer on that dive, 55 feet down, wasn’t words as much as it was a sense of assurance that “it was good” applies to all of God’s creation. So, as we approached the shark, any negative thoughts, such as that sharks aren’t very smart, or are unpredictable and dangerous, quickly faded. We made eye contact, and I slowly drew up close. The shark was docile. I sensed fear being replaced with a mutual understanding and love. I felt it knew we were there to help.
The shark gave us 100 percent cooperation as we gently pulled it from the cave. It opened its mouth as wide as possible, much as someone would do for a dentist. No one naturally wants to bite the hands that are there to help, and neither did this shark! While the divemasters worked to dislodge the hook, I held onto and steadied the shark. Getting the hook out proved to be quite a challenge, though. The pliers we brought down weren’t large enough, so one diver had to return to the boat to get larger cutters. Meantime, our patient and calm friend was with us a good 20 minutes, and kept its teeth away from our hands. The moment we successfully cut and pulled the hook from its mouth, the instantly rejuvenated shark flew by me and swam away, as if nothing had happened.
What I remember most from that moment is the calm sense of satisfaction we all felt as the boat returned us to shore. We knew we had done something good that day, freeing this animal from a desperate situation.
* * *
N.B.: In his wrap-up, the author/shark-saver attributed the creature’s calmness to “God’s law of love [that] overcomes fear.” BlessUsAll’s take is that this universal law of love allows — no, authorizes — each created being to express, among many other good qualities, natural grace, humility, intelligence, wisdom, harmlessness, and, of course, mutual appreciation.