Yesterday, and for the last week, there were two mallard in the pond: a buff-brown female trailed incessantly by a shiny green head. Courting, if not already nesting. But today there's just one, the female, and she's swimming round and round, quacking, quacking. What happened to Mr. Mallard. Where is he? Eaten by fox or coyote or hawk? Flown away to look for another, greener pond? Lost? On a business trip?
I feel for her.
June 9: This morning, no mallards. Neither the one nor the other. Modern romance. Isn't it always the way?