Odd Ducks

I
Yesterday, a single duck paddled slowly across and around the same area of the lake, only occasionally dipping and almost always looking. For what, I wondered. For predators? For others of its kind?

I have previously seen ducks, alone, at the lake, so this appearance is not altogether uncommon, but it was nevertheless odd.

This particular duck even looked odd -- at least from the distance s/he calmly kept between us. Dark back, light belly, white bill (perhaps). One photo showed stripes along the side of the head. (Light was not my friend, nor was my camera, hampered as it is by a weak telephoto.)

An acquaintance came by, walking her dogs, and told me what someone else had said about the duck: "A harlequin duck." When I looked it up, though, I discovered it's a coastal bird and colored quite differently from the Cheston solo swimmer. (An expert birder friend thinks female Bufflehead is more likely.)

II
I recently read a study that suggests parents really do have favorites, something we all suspected as children. Witness writer Theresa Williams, who, in her moving essay "The Origin of the Goat Child," makes this realization: "My mother loved me, but she didn't like me."

Years later, she decided to write a story based on her favorite childhood toy, and thus The Goat Child came into being. She writes, "The Goat Child stands for everything I feel exceptionally tender about." Later in the essay, she adds, "My little toy goat kept me company when I was lonely and helped me work out my unhappiness."

What she is making is odd, and oddly beautiful. View it here.

III
This afternoon, I posted a link for my artist friend Julie on Facebook, and within minutes she responded, "Where did you find this lovely lunatic?" I knew she would find his work as magical as I.

Mr. Finch, as he is known, is the "lovely lunatic": a self-taught fiber artist obsessed with old fabrics and natural forms. Blessed with a wicked sense of humor (think Edward Lear or Edward Gore, but gentler), Mr. Finch makes odd bunnies and caterpillars and insects and fungi and . . . .

IV
On a day of rain when my camera and I could not wander afield, I wandered through Mr. Finch's extensive portfolio. Odd that I should find him and Williams today, lonely as I was and needing something extraordinary to mark the day.

V
What odd ducks we all are -- wanderers in the natural and virtual worlds and always in search of others like ourselves.