Migration:
Flying, Waddling, and Paddling
Hatched in the early spring, I placed my small webbed feet onto the reeds that kissed the lake’s shoreline. Lifting my small, brown head, the first thing I saw was what I guessed to be a larger version of me—my mother. She was beautiful—her brown and black, rounded head led by an orange bill; her majestic way of standing with her eyes locked on her hatching ducklings; her powerful wings, and her strange looking webbed feet were what imprited on my young mind. I instinctively knew that one day I would look just like her. Within moments I noticed activity and a flurry of quacks sprang from my sibling ducklings. The twelve of us fell into a straight line and followed mother to the water’s edge. Trusting her, we took our first plunge into the chilly water. All of us quacked in awe of this experience as we tested our webbed feet and found that they propelled us over the ripples of the lake. Next came the gentle dipping of our heads below the water’s surface and then pure joy when we opened our inexperienced wings and shook the water from our bodies.
The first six months of my life were like a dream--chasing bugs, nabbing fish, flying over land and water, and basking on the lake with my family and friends. How could life be any better? I remember the day when the breeze seemed to change; I looked into the water and saw a reflection staring back at me. I tried to tease this stranger with a peck from by bill, but that only distorted the vision. Looking again, I realized that it was my reflection, not another duck. I was every bit as lovely as my mother with tan and brown feathers tipped with black. My spell was broken when all the adult ducks seemed to get restless. Mother told us that winter was coming and it was time for us to migrate further south to warmer weather. I felt anxious, as this lake was the only home I had ever known.
As the orange hue of the sun peeked over the horizon the next morning, I along with the entire flock rose into the air to start our migration. Used to short flights, I was amazed at how free it felt to soar through the sky for hours. My eyes scanned for things I had never seen before and my ears listened for new sounds. Then, boom, boom, boom! What was that? The flock scattered and three of my friends plummeted from the sky. I heard some of the adults yell, “Hunters!” Hunters—I had no idea what they were, but I knew I had to do something fast or others would die. With that in mind, I veered sharply to the right in the hope that the spiraling objects coming from the hunters would follow me so that my friends and family could get away. It worked; with their eyes trained on me, the others flew to safety. Unfortunately, I found myself separated from the flock. On my own, I followed my trusty instinct and continued my migration south.
The day’s experiences left me exhausted, so I landed and settle into some undergrowth by a river. After a few hours sleep, I heard a rustling just in time to sense a water snake slithering towards me. In a defensive move, I flew up a couple of feet and then dive-bombed the snake, stopping him in his path. Awake, I continued on my journey. Mid Morning I spied a small lake and decided to stop for food. A small boy immediately walked towards me with bread in his hand. His offering was unexpected and very appreciated. He giggled at me and I enjoyed him, as well. Suddenly, a dog ran towards the boy and caught the sleeve of his shirt in his gripping jaws--fly or help my friend—an easy decision. Ruffling my feathers as fully as I possible could, I waddled towards the dog faster than any duck should be able to waddle. I attacked him with my bill, biting and stabbing until he released my small human friend.
Finally arriving at my winter home, I took time to reflect. I learned a lot on my migration. I learned that some humans are to feared, but others are caring. For all the fear I experienced from the hunters, the thing I will remember most from my journey is the love of the small boy.
Commentary: This paper took the longest to write and I am very happy how it turned out.
Flying, Waddling, and Paddling
Hatched in the early spring, I placed my small webbed feet onto the reeds that kissed the lake’s shoreline. Lifting my small, brown head, the first thing I saw was what I guessed to be a larger version of me—my mother. She was beautiful—her brown and black, rounded head led by an orange bill; her majestic way of standing with her eyes locked on her hatching ducklings; her powerful wings, and her strange looking webbed feet were what imprited on my young mind. I instinctively knew that one day I would look just like her. Within moments I noticed activity and a flurry of quacks sprang from my sibling ducklings. The twelve of us fell into a straight line and followed mother to the water’s edge. Trusting her, we took our first plunge into the chilly water. All of us quacked in awe of this experience as we tested our webbed feet and found that they propelled us over the ripples of the lake. Next came the gentle dipping of our heads below the water’s surface and then pure joy when we opened our inexperienced wings and shook the water from our bodies.
The first six months of my life were like a dream--chasing bugs, nabbing fish, flying over land and water, and basking on the lake with my family and friends. How could life be any better? I remember the day when the breeze seemed to change; I looked into the water and saw a reflection staring back at me. I tried to tease this stranger with a peck from by bill, but that only distorted the vision. Looking again, I realized that it was my reflection, not another duck. I was every bit as lovely as my mother with tan and brown feathers tipped with black. My spell was broken when all the adult ducks seemed to get restless. Mother told us that winter was coming and it was time for us to migrate further south to warmer weather. I felt anxious, as this lake was the only home I had ever known.
As the orange hue of the sun peeked over the horizon the next morning, I along with the entire flock rose into the air to start our migration. Used to short flights, I was amazed at how free it felt to soar through the sky for hours. My eyes scanned for things I had never seen before and my ears listened for new sounds. Then, boom, boom, boom! What was that? The flock scattered and three of my friends plummeted from the sky. I heard some of the adults yell, “Hunters!” Hunters—I had no idea what they were, but I knew I had to do something fast or others would die. With that in mind, I veered sharply to the right in the hope that the spiraling objects coming from the hunters would follow me so that my friends and family could get away. It worked; with their eyes trained on me, the others flew to safety. Unfortunately, I found myself separated from the flock. On my own, I followed my trusty instinct and continued my migration south.
The day’s experiences left me exhausted, so I landed and settle into some undergrowth by a river. After a few hours sleep, I heard a rustling just in time to sense a water snake slithering towards me. In a defensive move, I flew up a couple of feet and then dive-bombed the snake, stopping him in his path. Awake, I continued on my journey. Mid Morning I spied a small lake and decided to stop for food. A small boy immediately walked towards me with bread in his hand. His offering was unexpected and very appreciated. He giggled at me and I enjoyed him, as well. Suddenly, a dog ran towards the boy and caught the sleeve of his shirt in his gripping jaws--fly or help my friend—an easy decision. Ruffling my feathers as fully as I possible could, I waddled towards the dog faster than any duck should be able to waddle. I attacked him with my bill, biting and stabbing until he released my small human friend.
Finally arriving at my winter home, I took time to reflect. I learned a lot on my migration. I learned that some humans are to feared, but others are caring. For all the fear I experienced from the hunters, the thing I will remember most from my journey is the love of the small boy.
Commentary: This paper took the longest to write and I am very happy how it turned out.