A few days ago on my walk through Buhl Farm Park while the sun shone and it was a bit warmer, I sat for a few minutes to talk to my husband on the cell phone about drama at work, adding names because that is easier. The bench beside Lake Julia welcomed me as this seemed complicated. As I talked, the sun sparkled on the small ripples. I watched the mother ducks with their ducklings. One mother scolded a woman on the shore over the dam.
What was going on? I squinted to follow the irritation. The mother duck got angrier. The woman turned to cross the road. She walked back with a bundle in her hand. I thought, she can't feed the ducks, we're not allowed and it's not good for them. What is she thinking?
Soon, a wee bundle of brown feathers scooted from her hands. The mother duck called to her baby and shooed the flock further out in the lake. Another mother and her brood hurried away from the scene, too.
The woman stood watching when the park ranger parked his patrol car and sauntered up to her with his gut hanging over his belt. They talked. He probably told her not to handle the waterfowl. Another couple joined in and four people discussed duck troubles. The mother duck floated way off to the middle of the lake.
Harrison sniffed around the bench, then quizzed me as to why we had stopped. I gave a minute by minute detailed account to David on the phone, as the drama unfolded. He thought, My woman is losing it. Their conversation didn't carry over the distance. Soon, the group disbanded. The duck families swam to the opposite shores. Will this woman ever pick up a duckling to join with his family again? The mallard drake steamed over, but mother duck had things under control. The drama over, and no further work drama to report, I said good-bye. Harrison jumped to continue the walk.
No point, only fun for a Saturday night.