Place 6: Visitors

11:30 a.m. Saturday, Oct. 17

Two happy sights awaited me at the pond today. The first was the water level, which reached its highest point yet thanks to recent rain. Reaching all the way up to the grass/moss line, the water is now several feet deep. I estimate four feet in the middle. As a result, the fountain has righted itself and no longer spews water from an awkward forty-five degree angle.

No longer murky brown, the pond is a dull blue-green and relatively clear. I can see nearly to the bottom of the pond. Amazingly, deep down swim large goldfish. A quick count suggests that at least seventeen goldfish the length of my hand if not longer live in the pond.

The second surprise is four mallard ducks, two males and two females, taking a brisk swim and walk. It’s very easy to tell the difference between males and females. Males have bright shimmery green heads; grey, white and black feathers on their bodies; and yellow beaks. Females, however, are covered from head to tail in brown feathers and have dull orange beaks. The most vibrant colors on a female can be found on the feathers beneath their wings which are bright blue or purple. Depending on the angle, a mallard’s feathers shimmer and almost appear to change color depending on the light. Sometimes, purple feathers appear black.

It’s been a long time since I have seen a duck, ever since I moved to Pittsburgh one year ago. And I realize that I’ve missed them. They have such strange quirks. For instance, the two male-female pairs at the pond stick side by side in the same way that human couples stay together. The first pair to my left spends their time bobbing in the water, motionless except for an occasional twisting of their heads to tuck beaks deep into feathers covering their backs. The female eyes me, unblinking.

The second pair to my right I have taken to calling the vain pair. Since I arrived, they have preened their feathers—particularly the male who scrapes his beak against his chest, ruffling the feathers. Afterward, he tends to his wings, lifting them slightly to poke his beak beneath. As his grand finale, he shakes his tail like a dog shaking about after a long swim, entire body involved. Soon, the vain female stops preening and stands quietly on the pond’s edge and tucks her beak into her back feathers. After another minute, the male joins her. It’s not as if she’s paying him much attention anyway. But his break doesn’t last long and he begins primping once again putting on a show of fluffing and strutting his stuff. Ducks are silly creatures.

Slowly, I tread softly toward the ducks. The first female bobbing in the water continues to watch me with the black of her eye, whereas the vain female and the males couldn’t care less. Nevertheless, I stop about six feet away and kneel. I wish I had a camera, but it’s best that I haven’t brought one with me. Cameras tend to distract me from what I am actually observing. Rather than pay attention to nature, when holding a camera I focus more on the lens in front of my eye and my desire to take a top-notch picture to show off to friends and family. I find that I observe nature best without a barrier.

After another minute of kneeling, I stand up and walk away. I would rather not disturb their morning naps.