10 Sep (Sat) Still
windy! Very! Walked to Upper Long Lake and started cleaning
waterbreaks—just the ones needing real attention. Rocked the trail the whole
way…the never-ending job. At the southeast end of the lake I had a fine duck-encounter.
◦◦◦◦◦ I’d seen the hen swimming around the shore and when I came around her way
she went flapping off, quacking: the old “lame duck” routine. But no young ‘uns
around so I knew they were somewhere on shore. So I cruised along the fishermen’s
trail hoping to scare ‘em up. Sure enough, all of a sudden there was a burst of
brown ahead of me and I looked up to see an absolutely hilarious sight: five
half-grown mallards waddling away at full tilt. The waddle is a form of locomotion
that is not very smooth (nor graceful) and is probably best executed at a more
stately pace. But these ducklings were movin’!
And with much “lateral motion” and distress. You’d never guess a young duck
could waddle at 15 miles an hour through thick, tall grass. ◦◦◦◦◦ They all vanished and I went in-search-of. A
thick clump of willows seemed a first-rate hiding spot so I peered in and, lo, there was one mottled duckling wedged under
the lowest branches. Attempted to dislodge it so’s I could get a closer look.
People always seem amazed when I pick up a feather and tell them what bird,
what sex, and what part of bird it came from. Well: this is how you learn your feathers. (This, and road kills….) But,
the thing crawled in farther where I couldn’t reach so I let it be. Mother duck
going nuts out on the lake. Not that I’d expect her to be taking it calmly but
they don’t ever make it through a season without losing at least half their
broods. (That’s why ducks lay a dozen or more eggs in one clutch.) I don’t feel
too guilty about stressing baby animals in this fashion; if they meet me, they’re fortunate. That was one
lucky duck, nyuk nyuk.
©
2015 Tim Forsell 20 Dec 2015
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