Always, new things

Next week it will be 10 years since we moved here. Still, I discover new things that thrill me. 

I took this photo last year. I was capturing the sky (of course—look at it!!). I clicked the camera, then heard the whistle of wings overhead. When I looked at the photo later I saw the three ducks in the shot—can you see them?

I've been paying more attention to this time of day. That period of time after the sun sets, and before the stars come out. The songbirds are silent, the owls are not yet up, but in a constant zig zag across the valley, ducks are flying. Huge numbers of them.

At first I thought they were all heading south, away from the river which lies on the north-west side of the valley. I imagined they all got up in the morning, flew off to the river for the day, then flew home again. Nice and neat. Like people, going off to work (also dismantling that one 😉) 

Then I noticed they were actually flying in every direction. In pairs and threes, groups of five or more. They go every which way, crossing paths, splitting off, groups coming together, parting and patterning the sky. Ducks become black darts, dots, dashes. They run stitches, tie knots, quilt air with feathered needles. 

They fly silently. The only sound is a high whistling of wings you hear once they are almost overhead. They surprise you. You think you are alone and then they whistle right by, going on to circle and splice, doing what they're born to do, flying until there is no light left. 

They've been doing this every night for all these 10 years, and every night before that. Dozens and dozens of group flights over just this one place every evening. It makes me wonder—what have I been doing while the ducks were doing this, and did it bring me as much joy? What else have I not seen yet?