I would like to begin by saying that I am not opposed to spirituality. I am opposed to sprained ankles.
When I moved to Astoria, I did so under the reasonable assumption that the most dangerous objects I would encounter in the park would be frisbees, scooters, and the occasional poorly secured picnic table. At no point did I factor in goat skulls.
Yet here we are.
At first you think you’re imagining them, something pale near the roots of a tree, something symmetrical where symmetry doesn’t belong. Then you get closer, and there it is. A goat skull. Cleaned. Arranged in geometric shapes. Sometimes facing the water. Sometimes facing you.
In Brooklyn, the pagan situation was manageable. Contained. There were rules, or at least habits. You learned where ceremonies happened and adjusted accordingly. Astoria, I was told, would be calmer. More family-oriented. Less… ritual-adjacent.
That assessment did not account for the skulls.
They are not marked. There are no cones. No signs. Just bone, placed directly in walking paths, as if daring the city to acknowledge them. I have watched joggers veer suddenly. I have watched parents stop short, unsure whether to explain what they are seeing or pretend it is driftwood.
I have tripped. More than once.
When I raised this concern with neighbors, I was told the skulls are “symbolic.” I do not doubt this. But symbolism does not make something less of an obstacle. A skateboard is also symbolic of youth culture. You still move it out of the way.
There are now enough skulls that I can no longer assume they are isolated incidents. They appear in patterns. Circles. Lines. I have noticed they are sometimes joined by candles, feathers, coins, and objects that look important enough that you definitely should not touch them, but also important enough that you cannot safely walk around them without stepping into shrubbery.
I do not know if permits are required for this sort of thing. I do know that if I left animal remains in a public park without explanation, I would expect at least a conversation.
This is not about belief. This is about shared space. Astoria Park is used by dog walkers, cyclists, children, and now, apparently, ceremonial goat skulls with no clear end date. There is no posted schedule indicating when the skulls will be removed or if they are meant to weather naturally, returning to the soil over several fiscal quarters.
I am simply asking for clarity.
If the park is now a ritual site, I would like to know which paths are safe, which trees are active, and whether closed-toe shoes are mandatory. If this is temporary, I would like a timeline. If this is permanent, I would like railings.
Because I did not move boroughs to participate in an obstacle course of symbolic remains. And yet, every evening, there I am, watching my step, avoiding eye contact, and wondering how many goat skulls it takes before something is considered a trend.