Nymphenburg Walks in dark times

(DE) After my heart attack, I got into the habit of taking a walk for at least an hour every day. I called this my "Nymphenburg Walks". From my flat in Munich, I can easily get to the Nymphenburg Canal or the Nymphenburg Palace Park. Although I was getting bored with the same perspectives all the time,, I trudged there every afternoon, sullenly, until one day I discovered the feeding of the ducks.

I began to observe the flock of waterfowl more closely. During my animal observations I noticed certain similarities between my young students and the waterfowl. The behaviour of individuals in such a flock of ducks reminded me very much of the different characters that I encountered as a teacher in a junior high school class.

Such nobility!

There is the somewhat dim-witted dreamer who is so slow that he doesn't even catch the bread that lands on his little head. Then, of course, there are the busy ones who position themselves strategically and are permanently somewhere else. They are more likely to catch something.

Not quite so successful are the aggressive ones, who can't get anything themselves because they are so busy holding their competitors in check.

Calm and sovereign, slightly disinterested, are the ducks who calmly take their share and then go their way.

There are students like this, too, and they are the most successful in the realm of the ducks as well as in school.

"Blässhühner" are very special

During these studies, two inconspicuous black waterfowl with a white pallor over their beaks attracted my attention. Like modest and very polite people, they approached the hustle and bustle and addressed the boisterous flock of ducks with a certain reserve:

"Would the ladies and gentlemen ducks perhaps consider leaving some of the culinary delights to my wife and me? - No? - Well, you will have your reasons, and we really can feast on nature's bounty a little apart. We wish to dine well on this beautiful afternoon." Serenely and with their heads held high, the two coots departed.

I was fascinated and concluded that these two must be very noble creatures of the waterbird world, namely Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg and his wife, Lady Berta Coot of Nymphenburg. I followed the further life of the illustrious couple with awe.

A knight of the water world

In spring, I discovered their rocking palace of twigs and reeds on a branch in the small lake in front of the Pagoda Castle. Lady Berta Coot of Nymphenburg, tall and plump, sat and brooded.

Her petite husband patrolled around her with his chest proudly puffed out, determined to do whatever. Suddenly Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg pounced like a torpedo on every single duck that had evidently swum the invisible banned mile around the palace. "Go away and don't come back, you brainless duck! I'll pull your legs so long that you'll think you're a stork!" Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg was ranting and raving, and the ducks, surprised, dismayed and at a loss, frantically swam out of the angry little gentleman's way.

Not so a quite sinister, almost invisible black water dweller - the snake. It slithered purposefully and silently towards the castle of the Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg, quite obviously in anticipation of a meal of eggs.

Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg, visibly startled, instantly recognises the danger, charges towards the snake and resolutely hacks away at it. It is unimpressed; it is unharmed; it is invincible! Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg, despairing at the ineffectiveness of his attacks, now swims inactively beside it as if he could stop it from its plan by his presence alone. As the snake emerges from the water and slithers up the wall of twigs, Lady Berta Coot of Nymphenburg rises and stares paralysed at the intruder. In dire need, Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg takes up the fight again and swoops his beak down on the slippery body again and again. And lo and behold, this time, it hurts, and the snake quickly retreats to the opposite reed without having achieved anything. Pursued by the furious winner Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg, who, in his exuberance, takes this opportunity to shoo a few ducks in all directions just for fun.

What a noble and courageous knight, husband and father-to-be! Impressed, I withdraw, and now that I have witnessed this fight for survival, I feel truly bound in friendship with the Lord and Ladyship of Nymphenburg.

Quite grand opera!

As the days got warmer, there were more and more small families of ducks and swans to be seen on the water, making excursions with their flock of chicks or even an only baby. At the Coots, too, the offspring had hatched.

Offspring at the Bläss von Huhn zu Nymphenburg

Four little chicks with fine red feathers on their heads scurried around between Lady Berta and Lord Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg. After a few days, there were only three. I suspected the crows, but of course, we can't prove anything.

So somewhat anxiously, I went to the Coots’ lakeside palace over the next few days, always fearing to find a pair of childless parents. The loss of these three lively little redheads named Clara, Tristan and Roger Coots of Nymphenburg would hurt me greatly.

And indeed, one day, no Coots family member could be seen far and wide.

Sadly, I stood in front of the empty nest palace that was gently swaying in the water. Then, suddenly the reeds are moving against the wind, and before I can really grasp this phenomenon, Berta Coot of Nymphenburg dashes out from between the stalks. In her beak, she has a massive pack of twigs, and reed stalks for her body size. She drags all this building material to the nest, puts it down, plucks something out here, puts something down there, heaves the largest part laboriously upwards, hurries back to the reeds and is quite obviously busy with thorough house cleaning.

My heart almost breaks! She has obviously lost all her children, as not a single chick is to be seen for miles around. Her husband, the brave and caring Bodo, has left her, for he, too, has disappeared. And now she frantically cleans and cleans the empty home. Even the ducks voluntarily keep their distance and seem to look sympathetically at Berta.

After a while, I can no longer bear the sight of the obviously severely traumatised and, with my head hanging, I walk a little further along the lake, turn off to the little bridge that leads over a stream, and what do I see - Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg with his offspring.

Clara, Roger and Tristan are scurrying around their bored father. Looking after children doesn't seem to be his favourite pastime. And I understand what's going on.

Mum cleans the house and can't use either her husband or children. That's why Dad has to take the offspring to the playground and do a father-son-daughter thing. Sounds familiar!

But now father Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg makes a crucial mistake. He's had enough of babysitting now and wants to go back to shooing ducks and doing manly things. So he heads back to the palace without looking back for the children. Clara and Tristan follow him, but not little Roger, who has discovered something exciting under the drooping branches of a tree and is getting further and further away from the rest of the family. Excited, I try to draw Bodo's attention to Roger, but he is so annoyed that he only has one thing on his mind: Off home, unload the kids and hunt ducks! Then I don't see Roger anymore, either. I listen, try to spot something in the shade of the trees, follow the stream... Nothing!

As I try to make my way back to the nest, I see an angry Berta Coot of Nymphenburg approaching, the children in tow and flanked at some distance by a distraught-looking Bodo. "This man is driving me crazy! Losing the children one by one! What a hooligan! He can't do anything except rant and lose children! And Roger'll get a few claps behind the red feathers, too. He always escapes! ....." Bodo, on the other hand, mumbles to himself: "oh dear, oh dear!"

Berta Coot of Nymphenburg searches the shore with a great routine, follows the course of the stream, looks into every little cave between the stones of the bank and under every leaf, and disappears from my view. Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg remains lonely and ashamed on the lake.

A tragedy! This time I suspect the snake. Perhaps it has drawn Roger into its den, and ... It's unimaginable! Bodo and Berta's marriage will fall apart! Grand opera! An unimaginable drama! I'm going home shaken.

Frustrations

The Coots of Nymphenburg family life has suffered greatly. Apparently, father Bodo is still out of favour, although the flock of children is once again complete. Clara, Tristan and Roger Coot of Nymphenburg search for food together with their mother on a meadow by the lake in the middle of a horde of ducks, while Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg always keeps to the side and looks uncertainly into the direction of the family.

The Coots children carefully avoid the ducks and take long detours to rejoin their mother and siblings.

One of them is not, of course - Roger! He has to be picked up all the time. But Berta Coot of Nymphenburg has found a trick to stop her problem child from disappearing. She feeds him! The only child who still receives food from her beak is Roger.

When she pulls a piece of apple out of the reeds, Clara and Tristan go for it, but not Roger. He waits until Mama has prepared a piece for him. Well, rebellious children always get more attention than good ones.

Bodo Coot of Nymphenburg doesn't participate in family life and swims around listlessly on the shore. Someone, perhaps a begrudging duck, has nevertheless tipped him off that his family is about to eat a culinary delicacy. For suddenly,, he shoots towards his wife Berta, grabs the rest of the apple and dashes away into the water. What has become of this polite and distinguished Coot of Nymphenburg? For a moment Berta is perplexed. But then she rushes after him, and the two of them stay in the water for a long time. Unfortunately, invisible to me through the reeds on the shore. After a while, Berta and her children peck around in the meadow again as if nothing had happened.

But Bodo stayed in the water, visibly frustrated. So frustrated, in fact, that to compensate, he shouts at a swan swimming by: "What are you looking at?" The swan moves on undisturbed. Bodo rides a second attack with his head stretched forward, loud screeching and with a ferociously determined look. Startled at himself, however, he immediately backs away fearfully.

Now the swan turns its head towards the little one, who is instantly silent and looks innocent. "It wasn't me! Honestly!" For the swan, this settles the matter, rejoining and he glides away majestically.

Bodo, on the other hand, cannot accept this defeat and, when the swan is about two metres away, puffs himself up, flaps his wings and gives him another "You long-necked battleship, you!" Like this! And a duck that happens to be passing by also gets a piece of his mind. Bodo seems to feel a bit better after this skirmish because he swims away in a hurry.

As so often in life, I thought I had discovered pure harmony: the family life of the noble Coots of Nymphenburg? - No way!

As it is in life!

It's summer, and the Coots of Nymphenburg now lead a completely free life. Their nest has sunk, perhaps during a thunderstorm or because the fat ducks have been sitting in it all the time.

Two of the children, first Clara and then Tristan, have disappeared. Where to? I hope to have a life of their own!

Bodo and Berta Coots have become closer again. They even form a real team again and trick the ducks through and through.

When the human children with their mothers and fathers throw their breadcrumbs into the water, and the flock of ducks pounce on them chaotically and greedily, Berta positions herself strategically in the throwing line and waits for the right moment. A piece of bread lands near her; she grabs it, turns back, and swims at lightning speed, pursued by a few ducks towards Bodo, who is waiting outside the crowd, hands over the piece as if in a relay race and stops instantly, calm and completely relaxed. Bodo races a few more metres out onto the open lake and waits for Berta, who then joins him when the stunned ducks have returned to the source of the breadcrumbs. Amicably the Coots of Nymphenburg move away from the lowly and somewhat narrow-minded ducklings.

But of course, someone still follows them - the loudly moaning and food-demanding Roger! He is still being spoiled and doesn't want to give up his comfortable life with mum and dad so quickly. A real nestling!

Antidepressants, but not from the pharmaceutical industry

These observations, which actually happened that way, and my interpretation of the events, as well as writing up the stories, helped me a great deal to cope with my severe depression after the heart attack. Of course, to get better, a long therapy was necessary, but to get a little bit of sunshine into my life, I had to take care of it myself. Capturing the summer of the Coots of Nymphenburg ensured that I didn't completely forget what life and enjoyment of life felt like.

Writing has stayed with me ever since. What I started in my darkest and most desperate hours became a great joy and a permanent part of my life. I could not have imagined it at the time. There was also no therapeutic intention behind my "writing". I just had the urge to look, let my imagination run free, and write. The question of a useful effect did not arise. Maybe the things that come around the corner so casually and without obvious purpose are exactly the things we should accept and not question. Who knows what might come of it!

(TA)