Living on the coast, we have a good number of migratory birds pass through our area. I had the pleasure of getting to know four of them starting in the spring of 2001.It began one morning, as I sat on the front porch with my coffee and my laptop. I saw two mallards fly down the street and land at the edge of the lawn. I watched as they wandered in the grass, seeking bugs and seeds. The male followed quietly after the female while she searched, bill down, through my lawn. He never made a sound; he just followed her. After a while, she wandered to the side of the yard, lay down, and curled up to sleep. He watched her silently, and then he wandered back to the middle of the yard, and searched for his own breakfast. After a bit, he wandered to where she slept and curled up next to her.
Later that day, I did some research on Mallards and went out to pick up some food for them. I didn’t want to fill their stomachs with something that wasn’t suitable. I brought it home, put a portion in a tightly lidded container, and left it on the porch.
The next morning, again I sat on the porch, coffee in one hand, laptop beside me, watching the world wake up. Sure enough, after a long wait, and several cups of coffee, I saw them flying in low. They landed at the lower end of the lawn and began to wander toward me. The female, her bill sweeping the grass in front of her, was unaware of the gentle protective eye of her male, who walked quietly behind her. I opened the container of food, and cast out a few handfuls, just as the man at the feed store had shown me. The water dish was already in place. I sat down, and picked up my camera. Slowly, the female moved toward the grain. She tasted a bit, and then headed for the water. She then alternated between picking up the grain and sipping the water. The whole time, the male just watched, silently, behind her. After a bit, she wandered to the edge of the lawn, and settled down. Again, he watched her, and then headed back to the grain. He tried some, and then drank. I named them Marilyn and Monroe.
My neighbor’s dog, Lucky, barked as one of the neighborhood kids stepped out to head to the bus stop. Marilyn woke and quacked once. Monroe chirped back at her, not a real quack, more subdued than that, and headed toward her. When she saw him, she settled back down, and put her head back under her wing. He waited a few minutes, glanced at the water dish and the grain still on the grass, and then settled down next to her.
I watched them for quite a while that morning. My daughter was asleep in her crib and my older children were already at school. I took pictures and thought about duck life. I realized that my husband was very like Monroe. He watches me quietly a good portion of the time. He gives me first chance at whatever I see, and then when I am satisfied, he takes care of himself, but if I need him, he is right there to comfort me. I wondered to myself, are we that different from ducks?
