It Isn't Raining Cats, Dogs or Men

They've taken millions of years to evolve. They've survived countless ice ages and fens full of duck hunters. Beyond the environment and men in swamps at sunrise, they're also preyed upon by bears, mink, weasels, fox, raccoons, eagles, hawks, owls, flickers, red squirrels and telemarketers.
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They are the goldeneye.
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If you want to learn more about the duck that I've chosen to write about, go to Google and type in goldeneye. You'll learn a lot more about goldeneye, important facts such as:
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- Goldeneye is the title of a James Bond movie,
- Goldeneye is the name given to the evil satellite in the movie,
- Timothy Dalton flew the coop to allow Pierce Brosnan to become the Bond that stuck in our hearts (personally I prefer that rascal Sean Connery).
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As much as I find Google and Wikipedia useful, it troubles me that a beautiful two pound bird that battles the aforementioned villains should be superseded by some Hollywood pretty boy. It makes me question evolution. Note: if you type in 'common goldeneye', then you'll get information about the bird.
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Yesterday was a beautiful sunny day here in Cambridge-Narrows...not a rain cloud in sight. That said, around lunchtime the heavens opened up and it started raining ducklings.
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Six goldeneye ducklings plunged, from a hole some twenty feet up, in our oak tree, to the lawn below. It was a sight worthy of its own National Geographic special (who needs marching penguins when you live here!). It looked suicidal but these feathered paratroopers have evolved to survive the plunge. They hit with a thud but looked unfazed. There was quite a commotion (mostly Wendy trying to get my attention). I grabbed my camera and tried to get some shots.
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The mother duck buzzed me once with a Tom Cruisian/Maverick fly-by. Three of the ducks headed immediately for the lake. Three headed toward me. At this point I started fearing that they might think that I was their mother. I had heard stories about these sorts of things happening. I had visions of the ducklings sitting on my sofa while I typed my morning blog.
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I also started having nightmares about (tender and sore) pecked nipples. Sure, ducks aren't mammals, but I am, and if they adopted me then I'd have to feed them somehow. Eventually the three that liked me heard their mother clucking and they also headed to the lake. The last I saw was the mother and six ducklings heading across the lake to the far shore. Although I had only spent three minutes with the goldeneye ducklings, I was sad to see them go. I felt like I had bonded with them.