Last night, I found out where the good ducks go when the sun goes down.
It was late, almost time for bed, when we got on the bikes and made for mysterious tunnels, winding moonlit trails tracing the creeks, and wide, never-ending circles around the lake.
We got lost a few times, but we eventually figured our way home after more than ten miles and and an hour had gone.
About twenty minutes into it, we found the secret sacred spot of ducky delight. There were over a hundred or so dark shapes moving around, the pitch of their voice suggesting black bellied whistling ducks. A few larger pale shapes wandered around near the middle of them by the edge of an isle, and I rather think these might have been my roseatte spoonbills from earlier in the week. This spot was not too far from the other, if you are the flying type.
Phone camera is not great for this sort of moonlight meeting, gonna try to find this spot again during the daylight armed with a decent camera and see what turns up.
This was a rather interesting story. Good luck to you when daylight shows up — let’s see what turns up. BTW — I also wanted to let you know that I love nature trails, so we have that in common!