A Fresh Morning, Hissing Ducks

It’s a cool, damp morning. Gentle rains through the night have made the air sweet. Each year has its own feel. By now the poppies should be setting buds. They are a long way from that. But the apples are forming, their little babies getting their first blush of red.

In the hoop house, Snow and Emma are on their nests much of the day, hissing and scolding whenever I approach. Would they scare off a fox? I have my doubts. If all their eggs hatch, that will be some thirty ducklings. Now I see why there are thousands upon thousands of wild ducks on the fields and marshes. At that rate of reproduction, it doesn’t take many generations to end up with millions of offspring, or keep many a fox, hawk, eagle, and coyote well fed.

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