Ducks and Small Children - Story #12/52
As adults, we have so much to learn from children and animals - if we step away from the frantic pace of our lives long enough to notice them.
I took a few minutes today to sit under a big, old, shady tree. It was a gorgeous day and that spot looked appealing. About fifteen feet in front of me were two ducks floating in a small pond of water. Pond would be a generous term as it was really nothing more than a low spot filled with rocks. The recent rains had left a lot of water laying around.
As I watched these ducks, I found myself smiling at them as they happily bobbed along in that tiny puddle. It couldn’t have been more than six inches deep and about twelve feet long. One duck climbed up onto a rock and started preening himself (I assumed it was the male - the female was busy finding food while he bathed). I noticed the glistening beads of water reflecting off of his back as he leisurely combed his feathers with his beak and shook himself frequently as if to say, “Awww, that feels good.” He’d pause from time to time and lift his beak towards the heat of the sun. His mate floated back and forth, stopping occasionally to dig her beak into the grass along the edge, coaxing morsels from the lush vegetation.
As I sat there, amused, I realized that these ducks were just as happy and content to be in that sorry excuse for a pond as they would have been out on a lake or river. No one was judging them; telling them they really should move “up” to a bigger pond if they wanted to find happiness. As far as I could tell, these two were simply being ducks and nothing makes a duck happier than water. The amount of water obviously doesn’t matter one bit. They reminded me of two children playing in a mud puddle and I imagined these ducks giggling with delight as children do. They were completely content and oblivious to the many other humans who walked past them and to me, sitting a few feet away, watching them. They were living in their moment.
It seems to me that animals and small children are the only ones who are the masters of being present in the now. They don’t worry about the possibility of what “could be”. They live their life as it appears before them - one moment at a time. They immerse themselves in the joy to be found in ordinary things like a puddle or a dandelion gone to seed or an ant crawling along the sidewalk.
As I sat there watching these ducks I felt myself drawn into their antics and, it seemed to me, time slowed down. I felt the intensity of the sun’s warmth and the cushion of cool grass beneath me; I noticed the lacey pattern of the tree’s shadow where it touched the ground. For that brief time I didn’t think about what to make for dinner or how much work I had to do. I was simply present in that moment and the feeling of calm that came over me was wonderful. I realized that I want much more of that in my life.
I wish we could all remain as curious and oblivious as we were when we were small children. I wish the world didn’t expect us to leave that behind as we grow up, scoffing at us for not bettering ourselves; for not following the “rules”; for not wanting the more and more and more that, we’re told, is at the top of that elusive ladder. But, I'm learning (finally) that every one of us does have the ability to turn all of that off - if just for a moment - and sit beneath the shade of a big old tree to watch ducks or children or a sunset and let that be enough.
That ten or fifteen minutes when I made the choice to stop; to sit down and watch those ducks, gave me the same feeling I get when I do things with our grandchildren - a reconnection to the curious child inside me who can find joy in the simplest of things. It's a wonderful feeling to know that child is still there, inside me, waiting to come out and play. I need to let her out more often.