A Little White Duck, Doing What He Oughta:
The Song in Motion

By the rocky edge of the river, the white duck waded slowly into the shallows. Around him, light danced on water, scattering into a shimmer of silver and gold. There was no rush, no hesitation—only the quiet certainty of instinct, the natural rhythm of a life lived close to the earth.

Watching him, I thought of the children’s song my mother once sang, the playful words about “a little white duck, doing what she oughta.” The melody rose in memory as easily as the duck rose into the water, reminding me how such small, ordinary moments can carry meaning across generations.

This is more than a photograph of a duck at the river’s edge.
It is about the harmony of instinct.
The pull of the familiar.
And how the simplest actions—done without question—can carry with them the quiet poetry of belonging.