Guest Column

Editor’s Note - I found this on Facebook and thought it was a good read for those in Arkansas County, since it’s about ducks. Enjoy

I like ducks. I watch the same two mallards visit this area of Lake Martin. Almost every morning.

I don’t know if they’re married. Ducks are seasonally monogamous. So this could just be a one-season stand.

Still, they are my friends. I guess they’re here to find food. Sort of like going to Piggly Wiggly with your spouse, minus the buggy, and the rolling of your spouse’s eyes whenever one of you places six jars of something you don’t need into the basket because it's BOGO.

One of the ducks is male, with an iridescent green head and a yellow bill. The female is brown, with a black bill.

I call them Lucy and Desi. I don’t know why. It was either that or George and Gracie. But he isn’t a George. Sometimes you can just tell.

Each morning, I sit on the dock with coffee in hand, legs dangling off the edge, and I talk to them as they paddle by.

I ask what they’ve been up to. I ask what’s going on in their lives. How’s the family? How do you like this weather? Do y’all have any summer plans? 

They’re unafraid of me, even though I am a big scary human, located only a few feet from them. They come near me sometimes. Not too close, mind you. But close enough that I can see Lucy’s pretty eyes and Desi’s amazing emerald hood.

Desi is definitely the friendlier of the two. I get the feeling that Desi is the kind of duck you’d want to party with. Whereas Lucy is more driven, and highly focused on making sure everything is just so. Sometimes I wonder whether she’s holding Desi back. 

For a long time, they showed up. And for a long time, I’d sit there, watching them undergo the seasonal changes of life.

I watched Desi lose his green plumage during molting season, and turn brown. I watched them hunt promising patches of pondweed and aquatic plants. I watched them waddle along the distant shore, with Lucy leading the way, charging ahead, on a mission while Desi stopped to smell the roses.

Then, something happened.

A few weeks ago, I only saw Desi. He started showing up alone.

“Where’s your better half?” I would ask.

But Desi wouldn’t say anything about it. He’d just swim by, looking sad. He wasn’t as carefree as usual. He seemed a lot more serious.

When he’d swim by, I’d ask whether Lucy was okay. Did something happen? Is she hurt? He’d just stare at me, mournfully.

Morning after morning he swam alone. Lucy was only a memory now.

So, I felt it was even MORE important that I meet him each morning. Because it looked like he’d been through a lot. And maybe one friendly face might make Desi feel better. It might give him a boost to know someone was there for him.

This morning, as I wandered down to the water to meet him, I could see him in the distance. Like clockwork. His green head. His canary-colored bill.

But he wasn’t alone.

I immediately got excited because I saw Lucy with him.

“Lucy!” I called across the lake. “Long time, no see, honey!”

They began making a beeline for me. As they got closer, I saw something trailing between them. Eight little ducklings. They were brownish, and so full of energy. So happy.

“Desi, you old buzzard,” I said as he paddled by.

And as Lucy paraded past the dock, showing off Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Doc, Bashful, Sneezy, Dopey, and Little Ricky, she actually quacked at me.

“Congratulations, sweetie,” I said.

I think Desi was proud. I think Lucy was, too. I don’t think they noticed I was wiping my eyes.