Colombian Blue Wings

“This year, we’re goin through Michigan!” Pappy, in his 17th year, proudly announced to his family of 28 blue-winged teals.  

Cheers of “yay, hooray, quack-quack-quack” erupted from the youngsters. Others near middle-age weren’t so excited.

One fledgling couldn’t contain itself and kicked furiously under the water. She looked calm above the surface except that her smile was from ear to ear across her pretty dark bill. “It was so boring last year going through North Dakota.” She swam out of the circles she was making over to her friend Georgie. “There were hardly any lakes there, ya know? I mean Michigan is surrounded by lakes. Pappy is so good.” She resumed kicking around in circles, quacking with joy.

Those middle-agers, who had made many migrations south and back north, replied in whispers behind the patriarch’s back. “I’m not sure why we’d want to go all that extra distance east when we should be heading south-west to Texas.” There wasn’t another duck in all of Lake Winnipeg as old as Pappy. To some, that wasn’t a good quality in a leader. Another cursed and criticized: “The old fool is probably trying to bring us to Columbia again. Remember that crazy place? South America is no place to raise a family! Not even in winter.”

“It was Bogota, Colombia.” Pappy’s wife said, swimming over to the naysayers. She looked royal, with a white patch of feathers accenting her cheekbones. Her speckled brown back feathers were pristinely well kept. “And yes, we’re going back there. The golf course on the Northside of the city is great. They fed us. There are rivers and lakes and that wildlife park was amazing.  

“It’s not better than Texas,” Winky argued. 

“It’s a lot better than Texas. There’s nothing but a bunch of Mockingbirds there. Do you really want them as neighbors? No, you don’t. Now fall in line. We’re leaving soon.”

Pappy flapped his wings, each with bright blue patches of feathers near his shoulders. He cleared his throat to speak again. “We’ll be flying in two V’s again this year. New parents, feel free to stay with your children in V2. Everyone else with me!”

The formations began to separate into two distinct groups. Most of the older ducks stayed with Pappy and his wife Luna. The second V was a mixed bag. “On Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer! On Vixen!” He joked. Some of the elders laughed along with him and stuck their necks up in pride to be part of V1. Others mocked him. “Old fool. He says that same corny joke every year!”

Wings began flapping. Webbed feet kicked underwater, propelling V1 forward until they lifted out of the water. They continued flipping those feet across the water’s surface as they began their initial ascent. Lake Winnipeg, of Manitoba in central Canada, shrank from Pappy’s view as his V soared into the sky. “V2!” He shouted back, as his last words to his norther home. Nine teal flew in perfect formation: 4 pairs of grandparents and one lone wolf. The single old man simply refused to fly with the youngsters.

Parents and children in that second formation were much less coordinated. They split initially into several groups of two or three ducks. Eventually, though, 19 of the 28 cousins made it into what became V2. Frustrated parents were heard screaming quacks at their children. Happy parents said many of the same words with kinder inflection as their children followed. “COME ON YOU FEATHER BRAINS!” And “Come on you beautiful fine feathered flock.”  

Some had no words and just quacked at odd intervals throughout the flight. “Quack. QUACK! (quack…).” And at other times, a plot seemed to be stirring. “You know, Molly,” that mischievous Sally said to her wing-mate. “It’s early September. I think Michigan is hunting birds like us right about now. I wonder…”

* * *

Landing on Lake Superior at the end of migration day 1, Luna looked to her husband Pappy with bright happy eyes. Her white patch between her bill and eyes was still the brightest of any duck Pappy had ever seen. It’s what caught his eye when they initially fell in love. He wasn’t sure what she saw in him, but he was happy they’d had so many years to craft this wild family of theirs.

“Well, just 29 more days to go and we’ll be back in Colombia!” She said to him, a little tired, a little sarcastically. She was happy to be going there but the journey would take so much out of her.

They had made it to rest stop #1 well before their family’s second flock. Just after sundown, the others from V2 made it. “Why are we in the great lake?” Sally asked Luna. She had enough sass to bring up objections to the matriarch, but not directly to Pappy. Big Pappy, having seen this behavior for years, gave a side glance to Luna. At her nod, he turned and swam off to see more of the grandkids.  

“Hey, kids! How about that flight? Did you … ” His voice trailed off as Sally continued her rant.  

“Why do you insist on huge lakes? You know most of us would prefer a nice small marsh or pond. The food is better there than on big water.” Sally pressed.

“Let's talk about this over around that bend, ok dear?” Luna flipped her feet and swam off around a corner, behind some tall beach grass. Sally followed. “Would you like some of these snails?” Luna offered to the malcontent. To Sally’s surprise, there was a strange water feature where a very slow-running stream had connected to the lake. There were dense grasses, insects everywhere, and a smorgasbord of crustaceans including crayfish and snails.

“Oh wow! This isn’t so bad after all.” Sally muttered, eyes wide at the fine dining.

The rest of the family followed soon after. Each found a spot in the marshy alcove and began either dipping their bill into the water, submerging their entire head, or tipping up to reach for prey. Some of them went after the water lilies, which was more typically a cold-weather treat when the protein-rich animal matter wasn’t so readily available.

“OK everybody, feed well and get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re back in the air at dawn!” Pappy gave the instructions in his kindly old drake-ish way. Then he went to sleep himself. Peace settled over the lake that night.

The next day was more of the same. They rose before sunrise. V1 took off gracefully and V2 struggled to coalesce. They flew more or less along the Wisconsin border. Green Bay was a tempting rest area, but they flew on just a bit further to Sturgeon Bay; a bay within a bay.  

The food wasn’t as good. This caused the children to misbehave more. Some of the flock left the family to go party in Green Bay after all. They all wanted to see big (American) city life. The entire family was back together by dawn though and ready for a third big migration flight south/southeast.

Day three brought them into Michigan, the much-hated rest stop of Sally and Molly.

“Are we still gonna do this?” Molly asked her fearless trouble-making leader Sally. They had flown away from their positions in V2 to have a conversation.

“Sure we are. But we can’t do it just the two of us. They wouldn’t buy it. Can you convince any of the boys to help?” Sally suggested.

“Convince?” Molly scoffed at the idea. “I’ll just make one of those little twerps help us. Watch. We’ll cross over a lake with some hunters and you’ll see. I got this. You just get Pappy in there.”  

“Perfect! We need to keep V2 closer to V1 today to pull this off. I tell you what girl: Birds of a feather, you and I are Molly-poo! Birds of a FEATHER! Mwuhahaha.” They continued to fly.

Hours later, the trap made itself apparent. “Molly, there it is. See those strange grassy bumps in the middle of that pond? Those must be hunters. They are totally out of place there. Those look like fake ducks around them, too. And just past them, on the lawn, a dog is running around.”

“I got you, sister.” She affirmed. Looking to her side she found their helper. “That stupid boy, Reggie, is close. He’ll be easy to push down to the beast. You watch for a minute then call for help,” Molly said and flew off to Reggie. “Hey, bud! I bet I can outrace you to that house across the pond!”

Reggie foolishly accepted the challenge. “You’re on!” And they both accelerated out of V2, past V1, and towards the house (with the dog).

Unbeknownst to the ducks, two men in a grassed-in canoe said to each other “Wait on these first two. We can probably get our limit out of those dozens behind em!”

Molly waited till they were nearly at the pond's edge and then bumped into Reggie. The bird fell a few feet and recovered, but Molly was on him immediately again. She bit at his neck and slapped him with her wing. A foot kicked down on the poor boy and he tumbled harder down to the yard. She continued, and then heard her friend Sally scream “Watch out for the dog!”

Five teal from V1 poured down and out of formation: Pappy & Luna, Reggie's grandparents, and surprisingly, the lone wolf followed. The four others, great aunts and great uncles to the distressed little teal, maintained course far above the action. Pappy led, diving fast through the air. They accelerated towards their young relation. Grandma said “Oh God, our Reggie!” Grandpa accelerated faster than even Pappy and got to the midpoint of the small pond first. The others weren’t far behind though, just a few body lengths back.

Time worked differently, in that moment, for Pappy. It was his gift. It’s what kept him alive all these years through countless predator attacks (animal or human). He could see 340 degrees around, with only the smallest blind spot directly behind him.  

Though focused on Reggie, when a shiny silver bead at the tip of a camouflaged cylinder popped up out of tall grass, Pappy knew there was even more trouble than the dog. He bounced up 10 degrees higher from his prior trajectory. This avoided a burst of hundreds of steel BBs, just in time, shot from the hunter’s gun.

Pappy flew back down in a barrel roll, spreading the formation so they weren’t an easy target. His roll felt impossibly slow, but another shot had not been fired yet as time crept on. He knew they were ok. He shouted, “left, Luna!” As he rolled right. “Spread out!” Another shot from the second gunman in the canoe as the first racked his pump-action shotgun. Then came another shot from the first shooter.

The five of them had transformed their tight bunch formation into a flying cross. Reggie's grandfather was still in the lead, single minded, not bothering with the hunters at all. But that lead bird often gets lucky as hunters never lead their shots enough to hit the first in flight. Pappy was on the right. Left of him were Reggie’s grandmother and Luna. Last was the single old man, already a widower. He lost his wife to a hunting disaster five years ago. He hated life without her and perhaps he meant to find out more of the alternative this very day, trying to save Reggie. “I hope you’ll be proud of me, dear.” He said to the sky. Luis was his name, and he accelerated towards the dog.

Molly flew off when Reggie hit the ground. The dog had followed them through the air and met Reggie in an instant. But when the gunshots went off, the dog was distracted. Also, five larger ducks were flying right at him. The dog bared its teeth and leaped at the incoming darts. It bit nothing but air and feathers. “No MEAT?” The dog growled at itself in disappointment.  

The ducks circled around. The lone wolf, Luis, hollered out “Once more unto the breach, dear friends!” And they all five dusted over, across, and even under the dog. The angles were too tough and these ducks were too fast for this four-legged creature. Dog missed again. By this time, even Reggie had climbed back up into the air. Molly was long gone, watching with Sally.

“I can’t believe this,” Sally said.

“They can’t pin it on us though. No way. Even Reggie will say we were just having some laughs, racing to that house.”

Another couple of shots rang out as the hunters switched targets to the ladies. Their shot patterns spread out way too wide to hit those higher fliers. Tiny BBs, no matter how many, didn’t have much energy that far up into the air anyway. Even if they did hit a bird, it wouldn’t hurt. Sky blasting rarely worked and the hunters knew it. They stopped shooting. “Dangit boy, we better re-arrange these decoys. We should’ve had ‘em!” The family was safe.

The blue-winged teal circled around Reggie as they flew back to the V’s. “Yes! My Boy! You foolish child! My hero! My heroes! Nice flying grandma, Pappy, you… Oh, I can’t believe you got away with that crap again!” The hens all said at once, Luna included. She bumped Pappy hard and they tumbled a few feet in the air as the entire family continued safely south/southeast down the shoreline of Michigan.

* * *

After a day like that, they thought tomorrow should be more of a float. Down a river. Not through the air. “Let’s not stop in Michigan tonight,” Pappy announced to what was now one massive V rather than two separate V formations. “On to Cincinnati. Then we form a raft and float!”

And that’s just what they did. They made it to the Ohio River just after sundown, avoiding most ponds along the way. Lounging on that river they floated south in raft formation till Kentucky. There the river merged with another river and changed names from Ohio to Mississippi. Then the massive Mississippi River took them all the way down to Louisiana. That, as you likely know, dear reader, empties into the Gulf of Mexico.

They spent weeks, not just floating but rather often flying along the river fly-ways. Arriving in Louisiana they took a break from their migration to enjoy the USA just a bit longer. Canadians rarely admit it, but most still like a vacation to America.

It was so nice in the bayou that many in the family wanted to stay. Pappy, however, had other plans. “Almost a month ago I started us on this path to Bogota, Colombia. Co-lohhhm-bia, as they say it.” He joked with a longer Oh sound in the middle of the word. No one laughed. They didn’t know it was a joke. They were all 100% on board with whatever their fearless, Reggie-saving leader had to say now.

“Each Family can choose what they want to do. But Luna and I have agreed, we are moving on. One more day of hard flying and we’re in Bogota. I have a feeling a storm is coming. Luna and I don’t want any part of another hurricane if that’s what it turns out to be.”

That lone wolf, Luis, spoke up first. “We’re with you boss, but how about one more day (and a few more shrimp)?” Cheers erupted. They all favored the 2nd oldest teal in the flock and newly recognized hero. “Agreed! Yes! One more day and then we all go to Colombia.”

Pappy laughed. “So one of them did get it.” He said to his wife, laughing over the long Oh and fake southern dialect of quacking that went with it. “We can wait one more day. Work on those accents a bit more. Eat some gumbo?”

Luna smiled and pecked Pappy on the cheek. He looked at her bright white feathers, striping vertically just beside her bill. He pecked her back.

“Hey kids,” Pappy shouted out. “Did you know in South America, winter is as warm as Canadian summer? Warmer even! And near the equator, the sun always rises and sets at the same time.”

Reggie asked: “I thought we were going to Colombia.”  

Pappy smiled. A flash of that dog and those hunters went through his mind. Some of the happiness left his face, replaced by relief and thankfulness. He looked up at the sky then back to the tiny blue-winged teal. “Reggie, ma’boy. Colombia actually IS in South America. And Bogota is In Colombia.”

“So your Bogota golf course is in South America?” Reggie asked to confirm his theory. 

Pappy laughed so hard at this, painful memories gone once again. “Ha! Yes, it sure is. I love that golf course! They feed us at their barrio, you know. And they don’t allow any hunting in Columbia. Colombia, I mean.”

Reggie smiled.