About a year ago, I saw a kingfisher at the North Pond for the first and only time. More
I’m guilty of sentimentality when it comes to wildlife—a syndrome Russell Baker has amusingly described. In the case of the domestic ducks that hang out at North Pond, my enthusiasm is pragmatic: I appreciate how photogenic they are, how well they stand out against the surrounding scene. It helps that they are just a single pair, returning to the spot perennially.
They look lovely against the blue-black surface of the pond, or when its surface is glowing with the reflected colors of autumn. The pair also look pretty darn cute against the fresh carpet of spring.