Mama and Seven Fluffballs

There is heavy traffic on the river this morning. The crest of the wood duck with its ramrod-straight, Mohawk-cut of red feathers, across the top of her head was the first movement I saw. Then I saw she had her brood with her.

She was traveling upstream and with her seven little chicks. It was a frenzied parade, the ducklings  were braving what looked as if it  could have been their first swimming adventure. It was mayhem as the babies tried to huddle close to mama duck as she swam forward, but even in the shallow water, the babies bobbed this way and that. Every time one of them got more than a few inches away from mama, they paddled furiously until they were bumped up right against her.

The slow parade continued until they went around the curve of the river and out of my sight. And that is the traffic report for today.