Tonight Frederic compelled me to break my New Years tradition of getting home at 9PM and passing the evening quietly with Pumpkin and, now only, Buttercup. He requested me to shoot the fireworks from inside the Park to provide an alternative angle to his shooting from Fifth Avenue. I waited at The Ladies Pavilion for an hour and a half to shoot the spectacular event from that area. I shall soon recommend to the Central Park Conservancy that The Ladies Pavilion be renamed ‘The Men In Drag’ Pavilion.

One man wanted to know the time from me, a second wanted to know if here was a good place to watch the fireworks, a third remarked how nice my camera was, a forth asked me if I saw his friend who is dressed up as ‘Nurse Ratched’ for The Midnight Run, and the last one before I got up and went over to the lake wanted to know if I minded his cigar smoke.

Over by the lake I saw the lone swan and a few dozen ducks. I regretted not having some sunflower seeds or peanuts with me. The time passed quicker than I thought and soon the area was filled with at least two hundred or so people. There were couples paired off on rocks, kids with their parents prematurely tooting their horns and cranking their noise-makers, Here and there names were called out in the darkness and soon after answers came from excited voices in nooks and crannies about. Frequently there were semi-sober voices demanding to know what time it was. I began to roll the tape two minutes before midnight. Ice on the lake could only be seen far towards its middle, and at times you can actually hear the water slap softly against the edge of the rocks. The quiet of the late evening endured regardless of the crowd that had gathered and was punctuated only by a few popping champagne corks and the stirring of the many ducks that perched themselves on the fragments of ice floating precariously away from the water’s edge.

I stared at the small LCD screen on my camera, confirmed that I was rolling the tape and held the frame steady on a generous portion of the 59^th Street Skyline. A small group of teenage girls that I passed by earlier began a loud, cheery countdown. Everyone paid attention to their high pitched voices. I watched the first thick white streak emerge from the bottom of my frame and I heard the simultaneous roar of the crowd that greeted the start of the fireworks display. As the first deafening explosion occurred, I have to admit it delighted me for a moment...why then had I always avoided this magnificent treat which occurred at various places in the city all through the year? Why had I deprived myself this wonderful treat for all these years? Moments, as tiny as they are, can hold a great many thoughts. Presently I was reminded why I harbored those feelings.

On the first detonation it seemed all thirty or forty ducks flew instantly into the air as one mass. Their bodies appeared as black globules against the bright red and white bursts of light. They cried out in fear as they made their way into the direction of the disturbance. My eyes fell right after onto the big white swan that hurried away from the blinding light and blasting sound. I was tempted to turn the camera of the swan and try to capture the images that I saw. Maybe I can capture his panic, his desperation, his confusion—but wait I may be guilty of anthropomorphizing. Maybe the swan was merely taking shelter like he would if it began raining or something. Notwithstanding this, I allowed myself to be the one person who recorded, in my mind, this creature’s bewilderment as my fellow humans relished the breathtaking pyrotechnic display.

I never faltered; I was there to capture the images of the fireworks. I maintained a steady handle of the camera as best as I could and recalled the instructions of my Belgian friend whom I would not think of disappointing by returning to him some grainy footage of a swan running for cover in a dark lake. Nevertheless, throughout the twenty five solid minutes of shooting the fireworks my mind thought of the swan running away from the maddening outburst. I thought of what it was like for him to drop his dignified standing in the lake and run away as if to be a coward. A coward I know he will never be, but faced with the forceful indignities my fellow man put on these wonderful creatures they have no choice.

I pulled down my nylon hat over my eyes as much as I was able without blinding myself to kind of mask my face. Shooting fireworks is just not my thing. I watched the fragments of the eruptions fall uncomfortably into the trees in the Ramble. They appeared to be still on fire. How many squirrels must be panicking presently? What is to become of the hundreds of sparrows asleep in the trees and hedges where the blanket of smoke is engulfing? Where was the Boreal Owl at the moment? A blanket of gray smoke had begun to envelop the area where the fireworks emerged, and it crept out slowly across the lake and into the Ramble.

As the sulphuric event subsided the crowd lulled and soon enough slipped into an unrehearsed though well rendered ‘Auld Lang Syne’. I walked by the three teenage girls who were, two sprawled semi-conscious against the west face of the large rock and both smoking, and the other standing unsteadily on the muddy path with a horn in one hand and a tall wine bottle in the other--she casually offered me a drink. I smiled at her and steered my gaze along the eastern edges of the lake trying to pick the swan out of the darkness. With no sight of him I reasoned that he must have made his escape all the way to the Upper Lobe. I walked through the Ramble heading towards Bow Bridge. There was no trace of any disturbance. It must have been very quiet in there even during the pandemonium. Still, I imagined a great many squirrels peering out of their sleeping holes with their eyes shining in the harsh path lights unable to go back to sleep. I kept glancing up every time the spaces between the trees offered a clear view of the sky to see what was up. There was an even veil of clouds on most of the sky that obliterated everything save the brightest stars of which Orion’s most prominent members were displayed fine enough to be identifiable, by that time being close to 1:00AM, it had climbed almost to the apogee.