On a pleasant, mid-October afternoon, in a last ditch effort to hang on to what was left of that "summer feeling", I decided to take a walk through the Public Gardens. After all, The crowds were long gone and it seemed a good idea to check out the fauna and flora that will remain after the gates are locked for our endless winter. During the summer, I had visited a few times, although in a rather superficial way. The little convenience store, located in the Gardens, had a great deal on a frozen fruit bar that was sold everywhere else for way too much.

I do recall, at the time, being bothered somewhat by the inordinate number of ducks present as well as the sickly green color of the water but, in the moment, dismissed these conditions - in the way that many of us tend to rationalise things we can't do anything about - as being yet another sign of our times. In addition, the nice flowers and belated, beautiful weather offered more than enough to quell any dismay.

On this fall day, however, my incentive was different. I merely desired a quiet walk in the park. Once through he heavy metal gate, I noted immediately that the pond water was still a ghastly green with some refuse thrown in. As I crossed the little bridge, I was greeted by the sight of a battalion of displaced water fowl milling about and sunning themselves. Most appeared confused and a bit too friendly. It occurred to me that these wild birds should naturally have flown the coop and headed south long ago yet they were still here. They linger - anticipating the public feedings that are mostly no longer available. Their pea-size brains had convinced them there was no reason to go. As a small child and her mother gleefully rushed by with a brand new bag of bread to feed these poor creatures, I was immediately struck by a litany of disturbing questions.

Where were the big-lettered signs telling well-meaning but ignorant people who cannot possibly discern the nature of ducks from that of pigeons: "Do not feed the ducks"? Where was the staff to convey this message in lieu of the signs? Why do the ponds and waterways remain that sickly green, color, and in some places, stagnant and littered with garbage? Where is the filtration system? Why doesn't someone rake in the ugly flotsam and jetsam more often? Do we care what the busloads of tourists think when they observe this dichotomy of beauty and ugliness in the hub of a so-called progressive and modern city? Does any of it matter?

Of course, it matters. However, the Public Gardens are obviously not a priority beyond the upkeep of the grounds themselves (credit where it's due). The powers that be, in all likelihood, will say there is no money available (except for the upkeep of old government buildings, of course) to deal with the proper treatment of some ducks and off-color pond water. Besides, with the apparent lack of education and health funding in our system, and our numerous other concerns, why should anyone care about such things? The prospect of a few previously over-fed, soon-to-be starving birds dying a slow, painful death this year doesnąt seem to be raising any discussions or eyebrows anywhere. Out of sight - out of mind, apparently. On the off-chance, does anyone give a passing thought to the fate of the two beautiful swans that were once a part of garden life?

When the snow flies and the remaining ducks start leaving their "sanctuary" in search of food, maybe some drivers will notice there's a problem when, on their frantic way to the casino, they find themselves running their cars over wayward and famished birds that are too weak to fly out of the way.

When I was a child, I remember the many goldfish in the ponds. In some places you could actually see to the bottom. The water in the gardens was pristine and clear as was, in another long-ago time, the Northwest Arm and the Halifax Harbour (Joe Howe used to jump in the harbour after work to wash off the printer's ink. No way today!) There was a certain polite reverence and respect given to this precious little oasis that we were proud of and felt lucky to have in our midst. Now, along with our Harbour/Arm, our architecture, our culture, our priorities and our sensibilities, the Halifax Public Gardens appear well on the road to hell in a hand basket. With all of the encroaching surroundings and pollution, it's difficult to envision a healthy park in a hundred or two hundred years. Is it that much of a stretch to imagine that the gardens will not even exist by that time?

When do we become aware, angry and committed enough to do something meaningful that will change things for the better? In order to answer that question, we would surely have to look at our collective reflection in the ponds of the Public Gardens and then roil the waters profusely. Only time will tell if the people of Halifax have enough of what it takes to do just that.

© 2007 Joel H. Zemel. All rights reserved.