COMMENTS & CURIOSITIES

Peter Buffa

This is just ducky. Every city gets its turn. If it isn’t dogs, it’s

ducks or crows. Yikes. It’s that subtle dance between city, person and

beast. The creature conundrum.

In this case, the city is Newport Beach and the creature is a duck.

Well, lots of ducks. The person is Bunty Justin, a long-time resident of

Balboa Island, and a longer time resident of this earth at 81 years of

age.

Ducks are no strangers to the Island. They like it. They know a primo

piece of property when they see one. Ask any duck what really matters

when it comes to real estate and they will tell you: “Location.” Next

time you’re driving through Pacoima or Wilmington, check it out. No

ducks. Balboa Island? Ducks.

Bunty Justin likes the ducks, and the ducks like Bunty. They have

bonded. The ducks are mad for Bunty because she feeds them, a lot,

sometimes three times a day.

But the problem is not the affectionate interchange between person and

duck, between feeder and fed. The problem is that when the word goes out

on the duck wires about a rager at Bunty’s, as many as 100 ducks show up.

That’s a lot of ducks. They show up at Bunty’s door, which happens to

be on the Grand Canal, noisy, ebullient and demanding to be fed. This has

greatly displeased some of Bunty’s neighbors, which I can understand

completely.

Balboa Island is a wonderful place, but it is a little cramped. When

Cole Porter wrote, “Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies

above” in 1944, he wasn’t thinking about Balboa Island.

Parking and 100 ducks -- two serious problems on the Island. When

there are a hundred ducks waddling around your neighbor’s door, it’s hard

not to notice when said door is about 25 feet away. Bunty is not alone in

this, by the way, there are a number of veteran, high-volume fowl feeders

on the island.

Noise is one problem. The other, of course, is what ducks do with all

the food they eat. It’s much the same as what we do, only worse. Ducks

are amazingly regular. Next time you’re in the checkout line behind a

duck, take a peek at his cart. No Metamucil. Ever. I guarantee it.

According to Gary Jennison, one of Bunty’s neighbors, “It’s horrible.

It’s smelly. Their droppings are like little land mines.”

Hmm. The first two I understand. But that last one is puzzling. I

don’t know that I’ve seen any more or less duck poop than the next human,

but I’ve never seen one blow up. Can they do that? No wonder people are

upset. But it wasn’t the fact that the situation had become explosive

that caught the city’s attention. It was the fact that it had become

toxic. Apparently, duck poop is very toxic and just a few poopettes can

raise the bacteria level in a large volume of water to unacceptable

levels. And that’s not funny.

It’s called urban runoff. And it’s a major problem in every city on or

near a body of water. Ever wonder what happens to all the stuff that

washes into the street from washing cars or watering lawns, or the rubber

and oil residue on the roads when it rains? Right into the ocean, mate,

that’s what happens to it. The same applies to all the business cards

that dogs, cats, and, yes, ducks, leave behind on streets and sidewalks

and wherever.

You’ve heard a lot about the urban runoff problem in places like

Huntington Beach and Santa Monica Bay. But the same applies, exactly,

right here in our own aqueous backyard, which is why the city has to post

health advisories about swimming in various locations around the bay,

including the Grand Canal.

All this weighed heavily on the mind of Newport Beach Council Member

Steve Bromberg, who proposed a city ordinance that would tackle the

problem of Bunty and the ducks. Kids feeding a few ducks, or people out

for a stroll tossing some crumbs to a duck, no worries -- assuming your

smart enough not to toss them something harmful, that is.

But the idea of planned, large-scale feedings that attract a hundred

ducks or more to somebody’s door is an idea whose time has passed if

Steve can hustle up three more votes. Repeat offenses will bring a

nasty-gram from the city, and eventually, monetary fines.

Sounds reasonable, but these things can be tricky. When I stepped into

my first term as mayor, a former Costa Mesa gavel-banger whispered this

advice in my ear: “Never get involved with trees, animals or golf

courses.”

Boy, was she right. Neighbor disputes and anything to do with animals

can become complicated in extremis. You might recall a recent fracas in

Villa Park between the city and Judy Simons, their version of Bunty. Same

deal.

Regular feedings attract a zillion ducks to the neighborhood,

neighbors go quackers, city steps in, etc., etc. Judy and the ducks beat

the rap, though, because of a technical problem in Villa Park’s

bird-feeding ordinance.

But I’m siding with Steve on this one. Who doesn’t like a duck? It’s

an American icon, sort of. It’s that whole outdoorsy, hunting club,

crackling fireplace thing. Duck paintings, duck decoys, they’re

everywhere. That’s not the point.

Like everything else in life, it’s a question of balance. A hundred

ducks on a pond is a thing of beauty. A hundred ducks on my doorstep is,

well, not.

Quack. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].