This Moment Brought To You By Ducks

#reverb10 (via Ali Edwards) says:

Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors)

On a Sunday morning in early November, a few days after Saint Aardvark left for his conference and a week before he was to return, I decided to take the kids on an adventure. I did some internet browsing and thanks to my pal Kim at Milkybeer and her comprehensive guide to stroller / child friendly walks in the lower mainland, decided to head to the Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary in Ladner.

The kids and I piled into the car and Fresco fell asleep (it was time-change day so he’d been up since five past ridiculous). We drove and drove and took several highways and followed google maps’ for once excellent directions and eventually we arrived; way out beyond berry country, across a one-lane bridge, past the pumpkin patch and almost in the ocean. We paid admission and bought a bag of bird seed and started walking toward a crowd of fat ducks, all clucking and feathers aflap.

The sun was brilliant and the sky was blue and the air held just a hint of cold. Our noses pinked and we stuffed our hands in our pockets and strolled among the ducks and past the tourists and got out of the way of the serious birdwatchers who hauled tripods and had enormous cameras slung over their shoulders.

There were a lot of people there that day; it was a perfect day to watch birds and walk around in the sunshine, but it felt like we were alone on our own island of tall grass and thick bushes. After a while, we went down an arterial path and sat on a bench in the sun, overlooking a pond full of ducks. I pulled out the cheese and crackers and apple I had packed for a snack and the boys dug in. After a few minutes, the ducks realized we weren’t going to feed them, so they carried on doing their duck thing; diving for things and squabbling and playing tag. Trombone and Fresco watched, quietly, shoving their mouths full of food and occasionally laughing when the black and white duck dove and shook his wet tail feathers in the air.

The splash of water and the far-off call of geese, the occasional rustle of a chickadee moving from branch to branch, the quiet of children and animals co-existing, the damp bench under my thighs, the sun warming my forehead. Fresco in his blue fleecy jacket, Trombone in his knitted chicken hat, twin pairs of rubber boots swinging next to me. Crackers crunching and ducks paddling. The smell of wet swamp and thick fern, and beyond that, the tang of sea.

There was so much beautiful quiet in that moment, but beyond quiet, there was peace. I drank it in. It felt like tea that was just the right temperature. Balm on a burn. The hairs on my arms prickled with anticipation and the world felt clear and graspable. I felt like I could pluck happiness right out of that cold, blue sky.