Ducks In A Row

Out on the southern coastline of Long Island last weekend while my wife set up her work at the Islip Art Museum. There was much snow around which, honestly, seemed wierd to me as it has been rather brown in winter time over my adult life. The ducks didn't seem to care much for the snow, spending most of their time waddling between the pond and the parking lot.

Mallard drake and his wife, maybe.

Canada Goose. In the last twenty years or so they stopped flying further south. Now they have a taste of the winter they wish to flee.

The ducks came a runnin' when I stepped outside. Bread, please. A car rolled in, bread flying out of fingers, the motley bunch of natives and domestics waddled rapidly to their crumbs. Long Island had a large duck industry until only rather recently. Many escaped, along with some backyard varieties, and have become, uh -naturalized. They look quite different (rather children's book) from the Mallards and others, but all appear to get along.