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Spring. It's a magical time of renewal, birth and hope.
I am overwhelmed by these thoughts every year with the first bud I see on a tree and when the first flower pierces the earth and when I hear the first chirp from the nest.
I am not a cold-weather person and I cannot stress enough how much I look forward to spring.
Metaphorically, at least, I hibernate through winter until the constant patter of dripping icicles awakes me from my slumber. Instead of shaking the dust from my fur, I refurbish the cameras for another season of outdoor adventures and I prepare the fishing gear so that I'm ready to search again for the big one that got away.
What does all this do with the accompanying photo of a dozen ducks underneath a birdfeeder? Wildlife, especially the newborn, are among the best parts of spring.
The mallards and wood ducks love the safflower that fills the feeder during warm-weather months. Located about a hundred yards from a river, the birdfeeder is a place for these larger birds to seek an easy meal and to socialize.
So, early every morning and again late in the evening, a parade of ducks waddles to the feeder from the river. The drakes make way for the hens during mating season, standing guard as they get first pickings at the seeds knocked from the feeder to the ground. During the rest of the season, however, it's every duck for himself.
Aside from distinguishing the boys from the girls, I usually can't tell one mallard from the next. However, the feeder was visited during three consecutive summers by one identifiable hen, who was almost always followed by two equally identifiable drakes. Based on this limited observation, I have felt that the community feeder is a public meeting place for several mallards in the neighborhood who return year after year.
There even was some evidence that the ducks were passing this morning and evening ritual from one generation to the next. A few nearly full-grown yearlings follow their mothers to the feeder in the fall.
This isn't great science, but then I'm no biologist. I never tire of watching female ducks demonstrate their maternal skills as they teach their young how to avoid intruders like unwanted canoes, where they can find food and where they can scamper to safety.
So what on earth is a mother dragging 10 youngsters, barely out of the egg, across open terrain to peck around for idle seeds 300 feet from the safety of the river?
Because that's what mothers do. They teach their kids what they know.
This mother brought her little guys to the feeder morning and evening for a few days last June. I didn't see them again. At least, as far as I know. After awhile, most ducks look pretty much the same.
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Stephen Sellers, editor
