All year, I’ve been watching a pair of geese that live in a pond near my house. Now, I know some people find geese a bother, but I like them. They’re graceful and focused and protective of their mates, qualities I appreciate in an animal. Qualities I appreciate in a person, too, for that matter.
Anyway, I checked on “my geese” every day as I drove past the pond, and lo and behold, last spring they became the proud parents of four babies – cute, fuzzy little things – and I couldn’t have been more excited than if I was their actual goose grandma. The babies wobbled around for several months, plopping into the water, until they became beautiful, accomplished swimmers. I know mom and dad were proud.
From time to time, some of their goose friends dropped by, not for long, just a short stopover on the way to southern regions beyond. My goose friends would lead their guests across the street to munch on the parkway grass, then they’d get together and glide in unison across the pond. Synchronized goose swimming. It was fun to watch.
Back in October, however, I noticed two new faces. Ducks. I don’t know if a person deposited them there or they just waddled in on their own, but there they were. Small and unassuming, a bit shy, they kept to themselves toward the back of the pond.
Even though the ducks were keeping a low profile, it was obvious they were getting a chilly reception from the goose crowd. I could just imagine what the geese were thinking. Who are these creatures? They have some nerve just barging in. Where are they from? They don’t look like locals. Exactly what are their intentions? They’re not getting any of the good grass, I can tell you that right now.
I worried about the duck/goose merger all night, but the next day, the ducks were gone and that made me worry even more. Where did they go? Why did they leave? It was a lovely pond. I’m sure that, just like the geese, all the ducks wanted was a place to nibble and swim and be happy, and from where I was standing there was room for everyone.
We don’t often think about ducks at Christmas. There are no duck Christmas stories, no TV specials, “The Duck that Saved Christmas.” (The Christmas goose you hear about, but that’s only as an entrée and that’s not what I’m talking about. Not at all.)
But maybe this is the year we could finally get our holiday ducks in a row. We all have ducks in our lives – people who are right now wading around on the fringes of our pond, waiting for a welcome. You know who they are – the guy not asked to be in the football pool, the woman not invited to lunch after aerobics, the kid who walks home by himself. Their feathers may look a little different. They may speak a different language, but whether you quack or honk, I’ll bet we’re all saying pretty much the same things. How’s it going? Where are you headed? How’s your mama?
So, what would it hurt this holiday season to paddle on over and extend a friendly wing? Face it, we’ve all felt a little ducky from time to time. (I’ve made it my life’s work.) And isn’t that the point of the season, that we redouble our efforts to get along swimmingly?
“The Duck that Saved Christmas.” I may have to call Disney.
