The birds and me; finding peace in the turbulence

With all the serious events taking place, such as the United States Supreme Court and its two astounding decisions, and the gun violence, I figured people need a break from the indignation, the insanity and the plain incomprehensibility of the times.

So I’m writing about birds.

I live across the street from a pleasant park, complete with a pond, or a moat if you look at it as a barrier of a sort, a small playground, and a central island in the middle of it all. It also has a classic style shelter in the middle, but a fire damaged it last December, and it’s been boarded up.

photo by mirko fabian on unsplash

But people still use it for walking their dogs, playing with their kids, and sunbathing, which I find a quite pleasant activity.

In the early morning, around five-thirty, I go on my porch and watch the ducks as they wake up. They come here around early May, the mothers with their ducklings, and spend the summer here. I see the chicks grow up, watch them take to flight and then admire their skills in landing, their webbed feet braking their motion, like some kids on bikes braking sideways, just because. I don’t give them names, because I don’t want to intrude on their private duck time. They do their thing in the morning for the same reason I do, for the freedom to be who they are.