Place 8: Mallards, for now

2:15 p.m. Thursday, Oct. 29

The mallard pair is back. Although I’m not surprised to see them, I’m glad they’ve returned. Thankfully, I remembered my camera this week and immediately walked toward the pair resting undisturbed at the pond’s edge. Both have tucked their beaks deep into feathers. I crouch down, camera poised and ready, but I moved to quickly. Startled by my sudden presence, the mallards swim away, their feet paddling in sync with my camera’s click click. Unfortunately, mallards are camera shy—or at least that’s what I tell myself. But considering that the pond is approximately 22 yards long and 7 yards wide, they can’t swim far. After following the pair for another minute I let them be and return to my usual spot by the bench beneath the maple tree.

My so-called feathery friends are less tolerant of my presence today. Ever since my sudden urge to become a photographer they have remained on the opposite side of the pond near the deep end beyond the water fountain. During previous weeks, they would swim along the shallow end near my bench. Yet I suppose “my half” is no longer suitable for swimming seeing as how all the leaves have drifted to that end. Primarily yellow and light brown in color—with a few red and orange ones interspersed—the densely packed leaves cover the water in a way that resembles one of my grandmother’s tightly sewn quilts. Golden fabric sparkled with red so thick that I cannot see the goldfish beneath. Toward the pond’s middle section the quilt gradually unravels until no leaves remain. Just clear water.

Any ducks I have ever encountered prefer open water. Two winters ago I was driving through Boyne City, a small Northern Michigan town, when I passed a flock of mallards taking advantage of the only open water available: a large, shallow ditch located between an icy parking lot and a two-lane road. Dozens if not one hundred mallards flooded to this frigid paradise as we northerners would head to Florida during a ten-degree blizzard. They swam between snowy sections in clear, cold water and waddled along the ice that was still intact.

Never before had I seen such a large concentration of ducks and stopped to take a picture. I watched them for several minutes and marveled at the fact that so many ducks could be so quiet. And suddenly they left, splitting themselves into three groups. When each group left, their madly flapping wings filled the air about ten feet off the ground forming a mid-air collage of green, grey, brown and orange. For a moment, they struggled and I wondered if they could fly without a running or swimming start. But soon they gained momentum, pointed their beaks straight for Lake Charlevoix across the road from the parking lot and flew away.

Every time I see a mallard I think of that day in Boyne City, and I doubt I will see another flock of ducks as impressive. I also doubt that ducks will remain at Chatham pond throughout the winter. Even though mallards can withstand cold climates and spend their winters north rather than always migrate south, they must have open water. Considering the shallow depth of Chatham pond, I expect the water will freeze early in the winter forcing the mallards to search elsewhere for food. For now, though, I continue to enjoy their presence.