hu cares | the duck couple

Once upon a time there was a mallard duck. She lived at a big lake with many other ducks, as well as geese, seagulls, herons, and squirrels. The lake was pretty nice, as far as lakes go: the weather was generally mild, there was plenty of room to roam, and an abundance of algae and bugs to eat. Sometimes humans even showed up with loaves of bread.

The duck’s life was also pretty nice, as far as duck lives go: she enjoyed swimming in the lake with her duck friends, and one spring, she paired up with a nice male. Her other friends paired up, too, and they all seemed eager to lay eggs and parade their ducklings around the lake’s sprawling green lawns. (Humans loved to stop and take photos of this.) But the duck was not sure this is what she wanted. Lake life was fine, and she wished she could get excited about laying eggs, but she couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. She had little to complain about, and yet, some days she didn’t want to be a duck at all. She was envious of the squirrels, who could climb trees, and of the herons, who looked so graceful and sure of themselves standing in the water, crowded by humans.

Her mate noticed that she didn’t seem like herself. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“There’s not really anything to talk about,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like there’s just something wrong with me — can’t I just be satisfied?”

“It’s not wrong to feel things,” he said. He told her about how he feared the end of summer, when he’d molt. He’d lose his bright, beautiful coat and develop “eclipse plumage” — a raggedy, drab set of feathers that would leave him unable to fly. “I’ll get them back by fall, but it’ll be a big change.”

The duck nodded. She felt better knowing she wasn’t the only one that felt afraid of change.

The next morning began as usual. The pair wandered the lush lawn, plodding past the blooming cherry trees and cottonwoods. Suddenly, the duck had an idea, and she veered towards the gravel path at the perimeter of the lake.

“What are you doing?” called her mate. “We never go over there!”

Yes, she thought. Exactly. She kept waddling, her mate following close behind. Soon, they crossed the gravel path, then the paved bike lane. Cars stopped around them as they made their way across a big road. Once they made it to the sidewalk of a small neighborhood street, they sighed with relief. There was so much to see and they had only just begun.

This is all based on a true story. I first noticed the duck couple in the spring of 2022, and I see them in my neighborhood a few times a week. Sometimes they’re on my street; sometimes they’re chilling in front of a house that puts a little bowl of water out for them. This morning the female was sniffing around in a gutter, moving dead leaves around with her beak while the male stood behind her, looking kind of useless.

I get a little jolt of excitement every time I see them, and didn’t realize I had this whole story in my head until one day, while walking our dog, I pointed them out to my partner. “You realize it’s not the same two ducks each time, right?” he said. “Like, sometimes I see multiple couples on a single walk.”

A few days later, I saw two couples on a walk. The illusion was broken, but I wanted to write the story in my head anyway. Maybe there’s a part 2 where these ducks discover they’re not alone in wanting to explore beyond the lake?

Unsolicited recommendations

• Monster Jam. I had never been to a monster truck rally, despite seeing a gazillion ads for them on TV as a kid, and I had no idea it had morphed into a whole organized league, but I saw an Instagram ad of Sparkle Smash, a truck that looks like a rainbow unicorn, and I knew I had to go. As a journalist who covers the environment, I felt a bit of cognitive dissonance being there, but some type of primal “watch big truck go fast and do big jump” instinct kicked in and I had a great time. Also recommend this fantastic 2023 New Yorker story about Monster Jam’s origins, which includes the phrase monster truck historian.

• Just watching the clouds for awhile.

• Jia Tolentino explains exactly how I’ve been feeling lately.

• The subreddit r/stupiddovenests, which is exactly what it sounds like. There’s something beautiful about the futility of trying over and over again: building and rebuilding your three twigs on a ceiling fan, in a Meijer garden center, in the nook of a car where the windshield wipers go, on a ladder on a work truck, in people’s front door wreaths. It also feels like an extension of my friend Ferris’s hilarious viral thread on bird nests, specifically this tweet that I still think about all the time:

  

  The only god IS chaos!

• Mackenzie Barmen’s 60-somethings skit about a love triangle, in which she plays every character. Thank you

  Elinor Abbott
  for turning me on to this - I look forward to every new episode and I truly believe every character is a different person, even though I know they are all actually Barmen. Has anyone written about this Tiktok/Instagram art form in which one person plays multiple characters so convincingly that you forget what you’re watching? If so, please comment with a link; if not, someone should write this so I can read it! (Or DM me with an assignment, I guess?)

Lately

• Was on KUOW’s Seattle Now earlier this month, and in March, too — right before the Taco Bell Century. Didn’t realize it was a life dream of mine to talk about a silly bike ride I’d planned on air until after it happened.

• Taco Bell Century was a <Borat voice> great success. More on that someday, maybe.

  

• Was on Texas Public Radio’s podcast Petrie Dish talking about the future of psychedelics with reporter Robin Berghaus. We recorded that episode before South by Southwest, where I was on a panel with Josh Hardman, Graham Pechenik, and Shayla Love — it feels like so much has already changed in two months! Over at The Microdose I’m still covering the weekly news, and interviewing people from all walks of life about psychedelics: an NFL player, a Buddhist priest, co-owner of Colorado’s first licensed “healing center”, and others.

• I’m learning to make pottery, race bikes, and plant a garden. Not very good at any of these things yet but I’m a mirrorball: I’ve never been a natural / all I do is try, try, try.

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