We saw from the camera in the box that the babies were restless, chirping and jumping over and under mother hen.
We set up our stations distancing ourselves from the nest box and from each other and waited.
Silent meditation. No sound except the birdsong. Gnats were circling my face. I had to touch my face. I coughed. I couldn’t sit still.
Mama wood duck peeked her head out of the hole. Was she ready to jump? An hour passed by.
We thought maybe our presence was the problem. We moved up to the deck, and occupied ourselves with crossword puzzles, Kindle books, and hot tea and muffins. Another hour.
Sunday morning boaters passed. Our neighbor began pressure washing. I worried that there was too much activity for her to feel safe to call her ducklings.
She hopped out, and like a speed boat, thrashed through the water zigzagging back and forth. Was she warding off predators? Another hour.
“I saw a jump!” Minga said in a loud whisper. And sure enough, little fuzzy black blobs were falling from the house. I clicked my camera shutter quickly. In less than two minutes, clusters of wood duck babies followed after their mamma and were gone into the cypress knees of the opposite bank.
Three hours of watching for three seconds of Joy! Best Sunday service ever.
Reflections on the Teche 