Recently we’ve had two unlikely visitors to our home (actually, our back patio). A male and a female. They’re fairly quiet and keep to themselves. I don’t know where they’re from originally or why they’re here now. But, when they do show up, it makes me smile.
Did I mention that they’re ducks?
My son and I have named them “Donald” and “Daisy.”
When we see the ducks, we go outside and admire them. We watch them walk around the lawn. We talk to them. We give them a slice of bread.
Just to put this into perspective -- we live in an urban area, within a gated community of over 10,000 residents. Wildlife around here (if you can call it that) usually consists of squirrels, cats, dogs, hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies. Generally, we don’t get a lot of ducks in our neighborhood. Which makes their visit all the more special.
Their arrival has brought with it all sorts of questions. Where did they come from? Why are they here? And their daily arrival also brings a certain sense of joy. I find myself looking out the window for them, hoping to catch a glimpse of them.
I’m proud to say that my son is a considerate bird-watcher (unlike some of the other neighborhood children who seem to delight in chasing and scaring the ducks). When we’re watching “our” ducks, we’re content to just do that -- to stop, watch, and wonder.