The king of the pond

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On a duck pond in the middle of a public park in Chicago, I recently watched a curious scene unfold on a rainy afternoon.

In the middle of the pond stood a heron, while about a dozen or so ducks kept their distance. They didn’t get close to the heron, or try to swim past him into the larger part of the pond. It was as if they went where the heron would not bother them, and no further than that.

The singularity of the heron stood out, when contrasted against the group of ducks that he kept at bay. It seems as though we’re all either herons or ducks, on the great duck pond of life.

While the heron made for a striking picture, in the end I wouldn’t want to be like one, either. I’d rather be, in the words of an old song, like a duck, instead.

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