Decades ago when I ran around our farmyard in a care-free heinie, well-worn white t-shirt and scuffed up black tennis shoes, I pondered some life questions I thought were important at my age.
I came to discover that I was not alone in our litter of eight children that was concerned about one particular issue:
"Who was mom and dad's favorite kid?"
Now I won't say I won that distinction easily. There were times I heard mom and dad quietly murmuring about whether dad should take me to the sales barn on Thursdays where people sold almost anything. Maybe a red-headed kid would interest someone.
But as the years progressed and my brain began to form more fully, I did observe dad held the older boys as more useful, not necessarily more precious.
The girls? Well, that was whole other subject. On a farm where hard, physical labor came at a premium, it was difficult to assess just where they fit in the "favorite" category although I had some definite ideas.
In the end of it all, I came to realize like all parents, mine probably held a secret compartment in their heart where they held their answer but they were also quite skilled in keeping it to themselves, even when asked by an anxious child.
With all that said, let it be known the early returning mergansers ranks in the top two on my list of favorite ducks.
(Photographed near Cambridge, MN)
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Before the latest snowstorms, my wife and I were stopped near a small wetland pond on a busy county road. The last few years the water level has been pretty low and as a consequence, the presence of wildlife has dwindled.
But I am an optimist in most things so every time we approach this small area I pull over to the side of the road to check on it. There have been a few more sightings of ducks and geese than last year so that is a hopeful sign.
Sand-hill cranes have come back to our area within the last couple of weeks to spend the next 7-9 months, not a lot of them yet but enough that we see several every day we are out and about.
This particular one was strutting through the shoreline of the aforementioned pond and I really liked its surroundings. As spring approaches, my mind is rarely indoors anymore.
(Photographed near Cambridge, MN)
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"Pucker Up"
Just my luck.
I don't think so.
(Muskrat photographed near Cambridge, MN)
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My wife and I drove out to a couple of ponds and a small lake to see how the waterfowl were faring in the falling snow yesterday.
If you look closely, you can see the snow piling up on the backs of these two ducks even as they carried out their normal routines of loitering in the water and occasionally dipping underwater for food.
(Photographed near Cambridge, MN)
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Years ago, the looming presence of a large barn anchoring a farm site was a familiar sight to almost every farm kid getting off the bus at the end of the lane and walking home after a day of school. The color and shape of the barns varied from farm to farm although the barns in our county were predominately red.
Many bus rides home after a day at school mirrored the noise and chaos you had just left. Only the players changed. Long time affronts were carried on between students, most of them minor but once in a while involved brief bouts of fisticuffs or name calling.
I don’t remember girls fighting back in the 1960s in contrast to now when your life is in danger in many schools from females who have never memorized the Marquess of Queensberry Rules.
Our graveled country lane measured about a quarter mile from the tar road to our house. We had no iPhones, transistor radios or other noise makers to distract us. In the warmer months the only sounds we heard as we trudged home were the crackling of mufflers on distant tractors laboring in the fields and the close-by trills of birds that flew short flights ahead of us landing periodically on the woven wire fences to keep watch on us.
As youngsters we were not very observant about what this walk meant to us. But looking back from afar, the walk was a time to decompress from the childhood stresses of school life. Chaotic noise gave way to a quietness that was a refreshing balm to whatever imagined troubles we had as we made a comforting return to the reality and safety of home.
Awaiting in the large, white farm house was a reassuring welcome from a mother who always inquired how our day had gone. After a snack of home-made cookies and a glass of unpasteurized whole milk, we changed into our work clothes and entered our routines of barn chores, then washing up afterwards, followed by a hearty home-cooked meal together as a family around the oilcloth-covered kitchen table. Our school troubles faded far away.
I am a firm believer that the best soil for a fertile mind is quietness, something that is in short supply many times today. Quietness resets the mind and heart, provides a context for thinking about the better things in life.
We may not have had much money in those growing up years on the farm but we had silence in abundance.
(Photographed near Ogilvie, MN)
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