The duck
We came to the pool because I’d driven my sister to visit a friend for lunch. My sister and her kids were visiting for an hour. Patch, Gleek, and I were waiting. We figured that the combination of flowering trees, rocks, grass, and water made this about the best waiting place available. I was right. Both kids were drawn to the water like little metal filings to a magnet. They only paused momentarily for permission before dipping their fingers in. Then Gleek began to do laps around the stone edge of the pool. I watched her walk. That was when I saw it. The brownish lump that Gleek walked past with only six inches clearance was not a lump of dirt. It was a duck. A female mallard duck to be exact. She was curled up in the shade of the rock, completely unperturbed by the chattering seven-year-old passing her by.
I pointed out the duck to the kids. They were instantly riveted. Gleek inched her way closer until she was a mere foot away from the feathered creature. The duck was so completely unconcerned that she actually tucked her head under a wing and attempted to resume her nap. The nap was short lived though because Gleek was tempted ever closer to this living, breathing example of nature. I lured Gleek away to look at a moth in the grass. She picked up the moth carefully, so as not to hurt it, and gave it a new home on some flowers. Even bugs need beauty. When we turned back to the pond, the duck had taken to the water. The kids both watched her paddle and drink. We wished for some bread to throw, wondering if this duck might be hungry. Gleek decided that we should come back sometime with bread and if the duck was not there, we would just eat the bread.
So we paddled our fingers in the water some more. And the kids took off their shoes because it was a little warm. They ran barefoot across the soft grass, admiring the statues, and jumping off of rocks. In short order they asked the inevitable question. Could they pleas put their feet in the water? I said they could. Instant splashing. Kickety-kick went two pairs of little feet. The whole pool turned bumpy. Bob bob bob went the duck. “The duck is like a boat!” declared Patch. I agreed that the duck was indeed like a boat, and then wondered out loud if maybe the ducks tummy was getting seasick. Instantly two sets of feet stopped kicking as their minds went to work pondering the implications of a seasick duck.
This was when my sister and her two kids arrived. This was just as well because Gleek was in the process of seeing if she could touch the bottom of the pool (almost) and she nearly fell in. It was only a matter of time before, like the camel with his nose in the tent, they’d wiggle their way into swimming in that pond with the duck. So we waved goodbye to the duck and went on our way.