Watch out for the Snakes
by Bill Donohue, Winston-Salem, NC
When I awoke this morning, I parted – as I always do – the bedroom curtains ever so slowly. The heron was already gone, no doubt spooked by some early riser. But there, chest out, standing tall on his nesting box, was my drake wood duck. Pacing back and forth on the roof, only 50 feet from me, I could almost hear him giving instructions to the chicks inside.
“We’re going now and you will be on your own for a while. Drop like we’ve told you, get your feet under you and paddle like crazy for cover. My little Seabees, you will begin your life in the real world.”
Mom appeared from inside and as if on cue, they flew south like the wind.
By the time I had my coffee and quietly slipped on to the deck, they were out. Six of them. Fuzzy little hatchlings scurrying about the pond, testing speed and distance from their siblings, bouncing off one another, deciding who would lead and who would follow. I had not seen them drop, like frog men flopping out of a speeding boat. But there they were, racing for cover.
Whether snowing or raining outside, they’d been warm and dry next to mom, hearing their daily briefings, “Your father and I will leave you to fend for yourselves at first. The drop to the pond is only three feet. Your wings won’t work yet, so you must paddle like crazy. We will be back soon to help you fly and dive. But for now, you must be watchful. The hawk has been waiting for you. The snakes are hungry and the turtles are bigger than ever this year. Be careful my little chicks.”
My own hatchling is 34. She and her millennial friends are dealing with Bernie’s departure, the challenges facing democracy, and the Covid-19 pandemic. Their fears are threefold, and several are also nearing childbirth, multiplying decisions about health care, citizenship, and a planet that will sustain their families.
I remark to her about the arrival of the hummingbirds, and today, a bright yellow chickadee that matches the iris in the feeder below. She was asleep when the heron left and the chicks dropped. We won’t be able to see the flying lessons or marvel as they take flight with their bright plumage.
She of course has already flown, in so many ways to nearly every continent; swimming with manatees and diving with the dolphins. Mother earth has embraced her from many directions. Still she worries. And well she should. But I can remind her still to paddle fast and beware of the snakes, and sharks in her world.
Copyright 2020, Bill Donohue