Feeding ducks

When I was about 14 years old, my junior high band class earned a trip to Vancouver. A girlfriend and I, worked on our parents and extended that trip to include a stay with each of our Grandparents. So we got to fly instead of taking the bus with the others. Of all the things that we did over the course of that week, for some reason, there was an inordinate number of shots taken of us feeding the ducks in a community pond in Burnaby and in Stanley Park.

I always thought the novelty of feeding the ducks came from the fact that we were Prairie girls. Not an abundance of duck ponds where we came from. But as the years went by and I had children of my own, I realized differently.

Turns out, I still like to feed the ducks. But now, I like sitting behind a camera lens even more as my children take their turns. As the years go by, my son has lost interest. I’m sure it has nothing to do with him falling into a parking lot full of mud, bird poop and gravel with no arms to protect his face. (His parents somehow managed to put on his stiff PVC rain coat so that his arms were pinned inside).

But my daughter has developed a love of all birds. So feeding ducks, or geese or gulls, or any other bird is probably a life long past time for her. It is comforting to watch her be a young girl, the one who still likes to skip down the path, after emptying her bag of feed to the birds.

Mallard Duck White Rock B.C.

Like a duck…smooth on the surface, paddling furiously underneath

Gull tries to crash the party

Other posts about birds:

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