Nature-Struck in Illinois

A Lull reader sent me this pic of her recent unexpected encounter with Nature:

The duck couple visited her as she enjoyed her lunch on a Chipotle patio (proving that we’re never far from Nature—we’re just not always aware of it). After leaving her table for a moment, she returned to find one of the ducks missing.

Then her mind churned with worry, for in that brief span of time she’d spent watching the feathered pair, she had become connected to them. Responsible to them. She knew the ducks had to cross a busy road to return to their habitat and fretted over the missing duck’s safety. Was he car-savvy? Would drivers brake for the drake? Could he make it without injury?

Oh. The Lull reader’s thoughts expanded enough for her to realize ducks can fly when they choose to, making the busy roadway (and the reader’s fretting) a nonissue. She chided herself for her initial faulty thinking.

But I have news for her: She was right to worry.

Every few days here in the Bluegrass, I see a robin walking down a sidewalk or meandering across a street. No flying, not even a flutter to show they were thinking about it. And that day I left the library with way too many books, I had to stop my car for two geese to cross the road, although “cross” implies a directness that I believe was foreign to these birds. They sauntered side-by-side, then moved apart to continue in single file. Upon reaching my lane, the lead goose turned his head to the left and proceeded to follow the reach of his neck, ultimately walking in a tight circle while the partner goose caught up. After they made it across my lane, they continued their stroll down a different street.

Having wings is no indication birds will engage them. So, dear Lull reader, no need to chide yourself. Your concern was warranted. And I thank you for sharing your Nature awareness.

[Duck couple in bottom pic were taking a walk near the dog beach in Chicago.]

Goose Guard Downed in Line of Duty

Many times in the past I’ve encouraged Lull readers to visit author Shreve Stockton at Honey Rock Dawn and The Daily Coyote. Her tales of life in wild Wyoming pluck you from your daily routine and transport you to the range. Her fabulous photographs capture the heart of whatever is in the frame. Her Farmily becomes yours.

If you haven’t visited for a while, you should know that the Farmily lost a beloved character this week and Stockton’s extended Farmily across the world is in mourning. Ricardo the goose, the bovine wannabe who took his duties as a cow shepherd seriously, met a too-early death at the jaws of a pack of a new neighbor’s dogs. He died while in the line of duty.

Condolences have been pouring in—maybe you want to add your own. Someone donated money in Ricardo’s name to a goose rescue in Australia. (In the U.S., you can do the same at the Farm Sanctuary.) Someone else suggested everyone “Honk If You Love Ricardo.” (Makes you smile a little, doesn’t it?)

Me? I’m thinking of poet Alphonse de Lamartine’s remarks about death, with one minor word change:

“Sometimes only one goose is missing and the whole world seems depopulated.”

Hugs to you, Ricardo. And to the entire grieving Farmily.

[Pics by Shreve Stockton.]

Taking the Pastoral Dining Route

While some of you took your mothers to fancy mimosa-laced brunches in well-appointed restaurants on Mother’s Day, I let mine drive us to a state park for à la carte breakfast dishes served on outdoor picnic tables. Though I’d bet you had better food, I’m inclined to believe I had a better experience.

First, before you think I bullied my mother into eating with a bunch of campers, you should know the venue was her choice. I can’t say what of the day will stand in her memory, but I’ll remember Mother’s Day 2010 for its animal encounters.

The restaurant sat along a river frequented by canoers and fishers. Dragonflies darted through the air and the resident restaurant hound monitored all visitors. He wasn’t initially pleased with the Akita pup, but everyone else passed muster. My husband and I enjoyed the company of both canines, reminders for us of the one-in-a-million pooch no longer with us.

The best part of the meal for me, though, was the coming and the going.

On the way to the park, traffic on the country road came to a standstill. Horses. A man got out of his car and held the halters of two of the road-blocking creatures, allowing vehicles to pass and move on. I got out of our car to take pics, and as I did so, the apparent owner of the horses approached the scene. He and the Good Samaritan seemed to know each other, at least enough to trust the G.S. to lead two of the horses back to the barn. The owner had his hands full with the spirited third horse, who had been frolicking in a field and was determined not to be led anywhere by anyone. He’d run toward the owner and just as he got close enough to grab, he’d skip away. My guess is that it was this spirited equine who sprung the group from lockup in the first place, and the two docile horses decided a Sunday stroll wasn’t a bad idea. In the end, Mr. Wild Thing acquiesced to following alongside his mates—as long as no one touched him (see pic above: note the docile horses’ reaction to the willful/gleeful one).

On the way home from our meal—during which time another family shamed me for failing to give my mother a corsage for the holiday (Did you? And if you’re a mother, did you expect a corsage?)—I disembarked from the car again to photograph a feathered family (no corsage in sight).

I don’t know about my mother, but I had a memorable Mom’s Day.

[Sorry about the boring pics. I had close-ups of both to post on Lull, but haven’t yet learned how to get those to stick. Please be patient with my learning curve. Thanks!]