The Early evening was crisply cool. As I walked among the trees through the last of the season’s snow, there was little evidence of wildlife until I reached the river. The last of the ice clung to the banks. Nearby, six ducks were cheerfully congregated, three male, three female. It was not apparent which were mates.
As I approached, they prudently relocated toward the far bank. Then five moved downstream; only one held his ground. Was the danger real or imaginary? Was he confident or foolhardy? Brave or reckless? Were the others reasonably cautious or unnecessarily fearful?
The current was quite strong, quickly moving the group away from me and from the solitary male. Then one of the five stopped, a female. The remaining four continued further downstream until they were content with their new location.
Fascinated, I watched the tableau which did not change as the minutes passed. The male began calling quite insistently. There was no response. The group ignored him. His mate heard but made no move either toward him or toward the others.
He was right, of course. I posed no threat. But he was alone. How long, I wondered, would he maintain his solitary position?
Finally, he gave in, allowing the current to move him to his partner. For a while, they remained at some distance from the others. The group still made no move.
Gradually, the couple moved partway toward them. As I resumed my walk, however, a discernible gap remained. The circumstance had, at least, identified two who were mates indeed.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One