Photo Credit: Courtesy of Mark A Patterson
A young duckling emerges from the shallow, cool waters of his birth lake and creeps warily through the tall, damp cattails. The sun’s rays begin to dry the previous night’s dew. He shakes the last droplets of lake water onto the ground while following his mother on their morning trek. Within moments, he leaves the confines of the water and surrounding vegetation to enter a landscape of freshly mowed grasses and manicured beds. The duckling’s instincts tug at him as if to call him back towards the safety of the lake, but his mother beckons him to push forward with his 10 brothers and sisters. His entry to this foreign world is greeted with the calls and shrieks of other waterfowl that follow the same ritual each day. The duckling’s pace quickens as he and his fellow birds rush towards the source that drew them here to begin with.
Upon their arrival at this destination, the ducks and geese are greeted with tufts of day-old bread cast out from a creature their instincts warn them not to trust. Sadly, the result of ignoring their predispositions initiates a transformation from an independent migratory animal to a lifetime resident whose value to the ecological balance is diminished further as each season passes.
This same story plays out daily at lakes, ponds, and rivers across the country. Each year, more birds are affected by well-intentioned park patrons who bring their children, grandchildren, and bread to parks. At some time, most of us have delighted in feeding ducks at a local pond. This act allows many of us to feel a closer connection to the animal world, while others believe they are supplementing the food needs of the ducks and geese. After all, no one wants to see an animal starve—or worse die--because there is not enough food. Our own nurturing instincts often overshadow nature’s intended plan for waterfowl populations.