There’s always something about the call of ducks that remind people of spring and summer when they arrive, and they’re noisy when they go. When they’re in town for the summer it’s not uncommon to see them waddle across the street in a row. It’s aggravating, but cute at the same time, and it makes people slow down and think about their own families.
A couple of years ago my son had a fascination with ducks. The first encounter that I remember, we were walking through a Barnes and Noble bookstore, and he picked up a fuzzy stuffed duck right around Easter time. He would not let it go, and I didn’t have the heart to rip it away from him, so it ended up being part of his early Easter basket. He would snuggle with it when he went to sleep each night, and it was with him during most naps too.
The fascination was compounded when we were going for a walk in his wagon, and we walked by a pond with a family of ducks. I pointed out the drake and hen, and then a row of chicks swimming behind them. It took a while for him to register, but I will always remember the slow smile spread across his face. He was barely verbal at the time, and the smile and the whisper of “ducks” will always stay with me.
We still drive and walk by the small pond, and I don’t think he remembers the duck family from when he was younger. However, he still seems fascinated by ducks and anything to do with the lake. The concept of family will stick with him too. No matter where we swim, there will always be a nest to come home.
Yellow Birch Graphics 