One Step At A Time

Nighttime storms and morning drizzle gave way to a much cooler,

less humid yesterday.

I sat at the picnic table under our old pine, Sampson, enjoying the 

soft, cool breeze and waiting for the ducks to emerge from the barn.

I had opened their stall door and filled their little pool earlier in the morning.

Judging from the amount of duck poop in the aisle, I could tell they were quite curious

about the big outdoors.

I sat there in the shade of the tree watching and waiting.

Sammie laid in the sunny grass in front of the barn and did a little backstroke.

Chester played in the shade, nearby, with a stick.

It seemed a great day for lying on one's back in the grass.

Moments passed and suddenly there was a flurry of quacking from inside the barn.

One by one, the runner ducks emerged and peered out the front of the barn.

Ever so tentatively they advanced toward the front of the barn...

and then retreated to the safety of their stall.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Until, finally, all the ducks emerged.

Closer and closer to the doorway...

and...

finally...

they stepped outside.

But, only for a moment.

It's a start.

From experience, I know that it will take a little time until they feel safe enough

to venture farther.

Eventually, we plan to lead them into my vegetable garden...

employing them as our own personal pest control.