Martha and Wilbur, the Mallard couple, were the first to come up to the “feeding place” this morning. They have made a routine of visiting just as dawn breaks and before the morning seeds are poured on the ground. This morning they ignored the slow soaking of the land. They’re ducks; they don’t mind the rain. They also don’t seem to mind the chill of the heavy 35 degree air.
Wilbur, always the protective male, stands guard as Martha shifts thought the dirt for leftovers from yesterdays feast. Before I settle into my observation chair, they slowly saunter back to the dock. Martha quacks a couple of times; it’s the morning commentary to Wilbur since no other duck seems to be around. I ponder the change in countenance as the couple dives into the water, awkward on land, at ease in the water. It is a transition that takes less than a second to accomplish.
They dive into Lady Lake who put on her light gray taffeta chemise. The morning gown is highly textured with faint dots that dull her surface; yet, the dress rests upon her skin without a wrinkle. She also adds the very lightest ivory colored veil to cover her face and the opposite shore. She has decided to be as soft and gentle as she can be. Perhaps, her countenance reflects her gratefulness for the much needed moisture.
Chad, Sam, Pat and Frank, the four bachelor Mallards, take their time to come to the feeding ground. Without attachment, they are free to meet their own schedule. The bachelors seem to gather at a reasonable hour to have breakfast, like a set of retired men finding themselves at the local café each day. It’s an informal agreement; they appreciate the company when it works into the individual member’s timeframe.
Two days ago, Chad seemed to have had a long night of it. He’s the one that appeared to be getting home very early in the morn. He munched on his breakfast and then went to the dock to sleep it off for the most of the early day.
He made the breakfast clutch today. Yet of the four, he’s the only one that has his head on his wing to rest his eyes. Chad, Chad, Chad, Chad, Chad… you are young yet, or you are acting like a very senior citizen. Rest well, Chad.
Tags: Crosslake, Crosslake cabin, Minnesota, Minnesota cabin, Personal journal
