Feathered Treasures
The following was inspired by a Sunday Scribblings prompt “Wings.”
Back in the 50’s, before ipods, video games, and Disney World, skipping stones and feeding ducks was a common weekend activity in our family. We piled into a car without seatbelts and ended up somewhere that seems dreamlike to me now. My grandmother’s husband, Frank, was a fisherman who new all the best duck ponds. Dressed in my Sunday best church clothes, which back then included a bonnet, I remember being fascinated with the shimmering green heads of the mallards. I didn’t like it when they misbehaved, fighting for the chunks of stale bread that we tossed in to them. I didn’t believe that the pretty ducks were males and the females were plain until someone pointed out the baby ducklings following behind their brown feathered mother like cars in a train.
The adults in our group usually huddled together to talk. Some smoked cigarettes. Absorbed in studying the baby ducklings, I could hear the peripheral sounds of rocks splashing, sticks swishing, and the excited voices of my brothers and sisters playing. I was impressed with how ducks could both swim and fly and watching them is what probably gave me the idea to later answer “a duck” whenever someone would ask the proverbial question ‘if you could be any animal which would you be?’
Sometimes Sunday donuts were passed around and we were instructed by the adults not to feed them to the ducks. Skipping along the pond shore with a jelly-filled donut in one hand, my other hand would be collecting the downy wisps of feathers strewn along the bank. A blue iridescent one would be worth finishing off the donut to free up my hands for a closer inspection. Inevitably my black patent leather shoes would get mud on them. Occasionally some would splash up on my white socks that were neatly folded over at the ankle to show off their frilly laced border.
Post notes: Feathers continued to play a role in my life. For a long time a mobile of seagull wings hung in my living room. I made feathered earrings, sold them, and wore them. One summer I wore a crow feather in my hair for weeks in a row. Feathers have also been dropped in my path as if from angels during times of upheaval or grief. You can read about such feathers HERE and HERE. Read more Sunday Scribblings HERE.
April 28th, 2007 12:57 pm
I love this Colleen. (Feathers have played a big part in my life too…but they became important to me as an adult)….This is such a sweet memory you have written…I can just see you skipping along with that jelly donut…watching the dear dear ducks.
April 28th, 2007 12:57 pm
Forgot to say that Michele sent me this morning…! Sorry.
April 28th, 2007 1:44 pm
It’s great fun to feed the ducks – I love the irridescence on the mallads heads too!
April 28th, 2007 2:18 pm
Somewhere in the dusty shoeboxes of kid-pix in my parents storage locker, there are images of me feeding the ducks at the duck pond near my aunt and uncle’s Long Island, NY home. It was a highlight of every visit: we’d play with their lovely dog, Buffy, and we’d go to the famous duck pond.
These days, the Thames River that winds its way through town is home to ducks and geese. We take our own kids to the banks whenever we’re looking for something fun to do. I could toss bread at them all day.
April 28th, 2007 5:34 pm
Such lovely childhood memories. I know a few other people who have a thing for feathers and feathers are always appearing in their paths.
April 28th, 2007 5:56 pm
Funny you mention ducks. We had to stop in the middle of the road today to watch a mama duck with her four little ducklings cross the street. My girls have talked about it all day!
April 28th, 2007 9:46 pm
Sometimes I think WE are the thing with feathers. I love that photo, as well. So creative! So somehow right.
I’ve no doubt that that feather was Danny’s last gift you you.
April 28th, 2007 10:51 pm
I thought of you as I sat on the backporch the over day. I was mulling over some rather sad thoughts and I noticed little white fluffy feathers floating down from the sky. I have no idea where they came from,maybe a nest or shedding bird, but I thought of you and your feather. I wondered if it was a sign for me.
I had a pet duck named “Quack Quack” when I was five! 🙂
Susan
April 29th, 2007 1:15 am
What wonderful, vivid imagery! I can just see those folded lacy socks in my mind.
April 29th, 2007 3:07 am
Reminds me of summers spent feeding the ducks at Lodi Lake. Thanks for conjuring those days up . . . they were wonderful.
For some reason when you mentioned the angels, I recalled “Michael” in which John Travolta has those fabulous wings! Remember when he left? All those feathers? What a great scene.
April 29th, 2007 11:39 am
I wonder if people still have those wonderful family Sundays across the generations? I always hated to have to be all dressed up, though!
April 29th, 2007 12:18 pm
I think I liked being dressed up then…or I think I thought I liked being dressed up … but I have much less patience for it now.
April 29th, 2007 5:19 pm
We did the same kind of thing but had to change into our play clothes first…and it usually entailed a trip to the Dairy Bar for a hand-dipped strawberry ice cream cone!
I loved black patent shoes with a sling back strap…but I really loved my T-strapped red patent shoes! We wore hats with ribbons tied underneath our chins and flowers on the top…and white gloves!
April 29th, 2007 6:14 pm
Those were the days and you continued the ritual for our children in Hingham….that is without the donuts though. Love you xoox
April 29th, 2007 10:46 pm
A beautiful tribute to your childhood.
Thanks for sharing this!
May 1st, 2007 2:50 pm
Trying to catch up on all the beautiful pictures.
Don’t you think that kids today with all their video games and iPods and computers, miss out on some of the real joys of life? Days like you describe with nature’s simple pleasures of discovery and bits of conversation and imagination. I remember those and hope our kids can find them too.
May 2nd, 2007 12:10 am
I have always been drawn to that green iridencence on the ducks. It is a gorgeous color and meant to thrill.