I can’t begin to guess how many times I’ve passed that pond.
I’ve run by it.
I’ve walked around it.
I’ve gazed upon it, distractedly, while talking on the telephone, or giving my son directions, or parking my car.
Yesterday, I saw the pond.
The sun was amazing; a true spring sun whose soft rays never quite breached the fabric of my tee shirt. Breezes blew from several different directions at once, playing havoc with my hair and Chevy’s nose, dancing, merrily, on the end of his long, narrow snout.
As we rounded the bend, several geese gathered on one side of the pond. Realizing Chevy had never seen geese up close and personal, I seized the opportunity, and I guided him closer to the clearing in which they had gathered. Apparently accustomed to visits, the geese held their ground. The largest of the group sat upon the bank, and without turning, hissed comically. I laughed softly before cooing my assurance, while Chevy ignored her.
And, then I saw the reason for her anxiety. A mother duck, sporting a single striking blue feather amongst her brown and white mottle, swam into view ahead of four tiny, fuzzy ducklings. The goose took a step into the water as they passed. as if to ensure a barrier between us and them. No sooner had the first duck passed when another mother duck, with several chortling ducklings, swam into view. The goose squawked softly as if to say “Hurry along, now!”, and the family glided past. Satisfied, their long-necked protector retook her position on the bank and settled into her feathers.
Feeling we had disturbed the serenity of this part of the pond long enough, I urged Chevy up the hill and around to another arc of the pond. Without a sound, a pile of turtles sunning themselves upon the bank, poured into the water as we approached; the only sign of their retreat a collection of ever-widening circles.
I knew geese stopped here. There were signs of them everywhere, and particularly upon the walking track which they seemed to target with their deposits. In summer, when the sun’s rays swelter, the smell is enough to force me to another part of the track.
But, I hadn’t seen the ducks. And, I didn’t know the turtles. I hadn’t realized that within a very busy county park, these animals had seen fit to create a home in which to procreate. I had never seen the pond as a place of caring that required caring for.
We left the pond, and headed in the direction of Shane, and the batting cages. I thought, again, of the goose; of her protective fervor for those unlike her, and I appreciated the irony.
We have much to learn…
© Copyright 2007-2009 Stacye Carroll All Rights Reserved
Are We There Yet? 
