Performer: Blind Faith
Songwriter: Steve Winwood
Original Release: Blind Faith
Year: 1969
Definitive Version: None
Of all the birds that Debbie
and I invited into our backyard menagerie in 1998, when I was listening to
Blind Faith a lot, our favorites without question were a pair of mallards.
The ducks began to visit in
the spring. On the back of our property was an exit tunnel for a drainage
stream that would flow over a creekbed to where I never learned. Debbie, I
think, first spotted the ducks down by the creek.
Among our backyard feeders
was a corncob feeder nailed to a tree close to the creek. On this, we would
stick a dry ear of feed corn to try and prevent the squirrel thugs from
stealing all the bird seed. The squirrels took to this additional offering, and
being the pigs that they are, would drop about half of the kernels onto the
ground. The ducks found those loose kernels and ate them. Now that they discovered
a regular food source, they kept coming back.
We started to look for
them—a male and female couple—regularly. Sure enough, at about the same time
every day, they would come tromping up the creek until they reached the
“headwaters” where they’d set up shop for their lunch and their afternoon
naps—as long as I wasn’t out mowing the lawn, of course.
Debbie was hopeful that if
we gave them the right encouragement, perhaps they would set up a nest on our
property and even grace us with baby ducklings. As we all know, nothing’s cuter
than baby ducks.
We knew the ducks liked the
corn, so we began to pluck kernels from some of the ears and put them into a
bowl. When we’d see them coming, we’d race out to put out the loose corn.
Debbie decided a good spot would be on the sewer lid opening to the drainage
tunnel, because it was in the open where she could see them clearly and get
pics. It took awhile, but the ducks found those kernels, and thereafter when
they’d come, they’d check over on the sewer lid as well as look under the tree
for any food.
The ducks would spend most
of the afternoon in our backyard before either tromping back down the creek the
way they came or occasionally flying out. They arrived via their wings a few
times, but mostly they walked to and from our backyard sanctuary.
They became regulars. Ducks,
of course, generally aren’t people-shy, and as long as I kept my distance—while
the male eyed me carefully—they didn’t fly off suddenly if they heard me coming
around the corner. After a while, I used this familiarity to go get the bowl of
corn and put it out in plain sight. After I’d back away, they’d make a beeline
over to the sewer lid. Now they had a direct connection not only to the food
but from where it was coming.
And they began to look for
it. Debbie and I would see the ducks, take the corn out while running our
fingers through the kernels, so they could hear them skritch across the metal
bowl, and they came to know that sound. As soon as they heard it, they’d start
to head over to the sewer lid—maintaining a respectful distance.
The distance shrank as the
summer progressed. At first, they didn’t like it if you were just in the
backyard. Then a 30-foot gap became acceptable. Then 15. It got so if they
didn’t find food in the usual places right away, they would tromp up to the
deck and look for us. They recognized by now that’s from where the corn
producers came. If they heard the door open, they’d waddle off quickly—the male
always farther away than the female—but soon follow along behind.
The gap between us continued
to dwindle, and one weekend day when they came looking for food, I decided to
see how far I could push things. They followed me to the sewer lid as Debbie
watched. The female was maybe 10 feet from me as I put the food down in clear
sight, and she continued to take a step, then another, anticipating my
departure.
This time I didn’t depart.
Instead I put some corn in my hand and held it out in front of me. The male
wasn’t having any of it, but the female took a step closer, then another … then
another …
She was now about 6 feet
from me and she craned her neck forward a bit to take a closer look but
stopped. OK, not today. I dropped the rest of the corn onto the sewer lid and
by the time I had taken no more than three steps away, she went for the corn with
the male rushing over to participate in the feast.
Debbie was beside herself
when I got to the back door. I thought she was going to take some from your
hand, she said. I didn’t think she would then, but I thought I was laying the
groundwork for her eventually to feed out of my hand.
It turns out that was as
close as I got. I don’t think I freaked them out completely, because we saw
them after that, but soon after it started to get cold and they disappeared for
the season. Unfortunately, although we continued to have ducks visit in
subsequent years and feed them, we never saw that particular pair again.
And Debbie never did get
that hoped-for nest, alas.
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