I used to live in an apartment complex which had artificial lakes populated by mallards. Every April, I looked forward to seeing fluffy little ducklings appear with their moms. It was a sign of spring, a sign of life beginning anew. (Sometimes, I would see ducklings in June, which I would call "late harvest" ducklings.)
I have since moved away from the complex, and I miss seeing ducklings in April. I know of few places where I know mallards congregate - the Fullerton Arboretum, for one, and a few parks not too close to where I live now.
So what? Despite high gas prices, a view of ducklings is worth the drive. It's a small joy that comes and goes before one knows it. Maybe tomorrow I will find a place to view ducklings.
("Maybe tomorrow"...doesn't that sound so sad?)
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