Marsh Sounds at Dawn

Those of us who live near the marshes are blessed by the delightful cacophony of sounds
in the early morning hours emanating from our natural surroundings. Often I have been on
the telly and my callers have asked - just where are you? I think of it as the Serengeti
experience. It is a symphony of sound that never becomes ordinary. It is a  multifaceted
and evolving series and clusters of beautiful sound.

Near six this morning, something quite different occurred. Of late I have had a pair of
ducks quacking and splashing in the tepid waters defining my fresh water marsh. And
their little ducklings have been seen taking their early morning swimming lessons. When
one sees these things, there is an ownership and unexpressed responsibility for their mere
presence.

However, this morning's breaking light was disturbed by the frantic quacking of the
mallard. When ducks fly in there is a certain sound to the splash. Today there was not
only wild splashing but terrified quacking. I arose from my slumber and looked out
from the security of my upper story porch to see what was the matter. Both the male and
the female were swimming erratically in circles, quacking in a disturbing manner
and the little ducklings were trying to stay near the mother. What was going on?

Then from the reeds emerged in a great series of splashes, a coyote on the hunt. I
felt I lived in a quiet, unassuming place where the struggle for existence of the
"lower" predators did not interface. Not so. I wanted to scream to save my newest
friends - the ducks - but could not raise a voice. And would that have been enough to
deter the coyote anyway? So, I took my binos to see what might be happening at
a closer range, only to discover that indeed it was a coyote and that the mallard male
was doing everything to lead the coyote away from his family, quacking to distract
the maneuver and flying off only to return to begin the distraction again and again.

The coyote arched his back to pounce and attain his prey, but seemingly failed.
The other birds chirped and flew in panic about the scene, commenting on the
danger to their fellow mates.  Then all seemed to quiet. Were my ducks safe and the
predator quelled? I know not. My deeper hope is that the morrow will come and I
will hear the playful splashes of my little duck family and that the coyote will
have moved on to more tempting and less allusive prey.

The possibility of this violence in my backyard was alarming, and my inability to
intervene left me feeling helpless. Yes, it is just nature doing its natural thing, but
the question comes to mind - if I were in a similar situation with my fellow humans -
would I have the courage to intervene? Would I be frozen in inaction? And if so......
what would that say about me? What about you?



R