If I am still around the house come mid-morning Little Honey will go to the closet and bring me his bike helmet asking about the ducks. It doesn't matter where we go on our daily ride or what we see, if we turn back onto our street before seeing ducks I get into trouble. Today we rode to our favorite pond, where the Mallards breed like rabbits, and found this momma and brood among four other hens with ducklings. We even found a group of adolescents being herded by their mother.
Once Mallard eggs hatch the Drake moves on from the Hen, and after the mating season has passed his distinctive feathers will change to the point that he looks much like her. Little Honey seems to have innate respect for the hens and ducklings. Maybe with Honey Pot constantly nursing Honey Bee and Bit-O-Honey he has sympathy for them. But he shows no mercy to the Drakes. "Gemmim!" he cries and toddles after them, his little-man's body top-heavy under the weight of his helmet. The ducks will scatter and squack, and although he can't even run fast enough for them to really have need to run, he's relentless. He'll follow them in circles and up and down hills until they "go swimming". Then we can get back on the bike and go home. "Bye-bye ducks." Until tomorrow.
