The girls and I went to pick my husband up from work on Wednesday, and as we pulled into the parking lot of the car dealership where he works, we were enchanted to see a mother mallard duck bossily waddling her way across the lot from the pretty pond (complete with fountain) that has pride of place on the south edge of the dealership's property. Behind her were two little ducklings doing a strange little walk that was half-waddle, half-jump-for-joy.
I stopped the van and we all quietly watched as she took a glance at us, decided that we meant no harm, and then led her babies in front of us and off the edge of the asphalt to a deep puddle in a ditch, courtesy of the recent heavy rains that has everyone in Indiana except the ducks saying mean things about Mother Nature. The three of them launched onto the water and swam busily across the puddle, traveling in an undulating S curve towards the tall weeds on the other side. Once there, the three ducks climbed out and fluffed their feathers; then Mama shooed her babies into the tall weeds, undoubtedly quacking, "Now I don't want to hear any noise. Not a single peep, you hear? You go right to sleep. No, you can't have another junebug; you've had plenty. You can have another one tomorrow. Okay now...everyone settled? Well, good night then. Mama loves you. *kiss*kiss*"
"That looks just like us," Meelyn said fondly as we watched Mrs. Mallard settling down to preen her feathers. "You, me and Aisling, waiting for Daddy to come in with a honk-honk-honk."
It really did!
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