A Mother’s Call:
The Steadfast Voice on the Water’s Edge

Along the quiet riverside, where the water flows gently past the rocks, a mother mallard stands alert—her feathers mottled like the forest floor in morning light. With a soft, purposeful quack, she calls to her ducklings. It isn’t panic, but presence—a gentle check-in, a mother’s way of saying, “I’m here.”

At her feet, one duckling nestles close, while another tiptoes toward the edge of the river, drawn by the dance of sunlight on the current. The world is wide, full of mystery and motion, but to them, she is everything—shelter, safety, and direction.

She watches without rest. Every sound, every ripple, every shadow overhead is measured and understood. Her body stays still, but her mind is always moving—ready to guide, ready to shield.

The river carries on, winding beyond their view. But for now, in this moment, all that matters is this small family and the quiet strength of a mother holding her place between the wild and her young.