Both of my parents were birdwatchers. That was before they called it birding. We had a bird feeder that I basically ignored, but when we went on vacation in Maine, I watched the birds too.
They were more interesting birds.
Sea birds.
Ducks.
My most vivid memory came back to me last week when I was watching the waves at the Watch Hill Lighthouse and the ducks were playing with the waves.
In my youth at Ocean Point in Boothbay Harbor, Maine, my Dad and I watch huge waves coming into shore.
Ducks would dance on the waves.
Floating.
Diving.
Ducking (sorry).
A big wave would crest over a duck.
It would disappear.
We would search for it.
Finally, it would pop up 50 yards away from where the wave crashed.
The duck has staying power.
The duck was in its element.
I loved watching that duck.
Today, I loved watching a descendant of that duck bobbing in the Watch Hill surf.
I love ducks!
Zen birding lesson for the day: Sometimes you find what you need way before you realize it.
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