Birds of a feather

We live (or at least, I'm about to be living) in an estate which has a lot of parks, a golf course and a lake just around the corner from our place. There are ducks on the lake - big families of them.

A month or so ago, I was driving to work and I had driven down the road and was going through another estate. I had to stop at a roundabout and as I did, I noticed another car had stopped too. A mother duck was walking about a half a dozen ducklings across the road, so the car had to wait patiently till they all crossed. It was way cool to watch.

This morning, I was driving past the lake around the corner from us and another car was coming in the other direction. I don't think either of us saw the ducks till we were right beside them, but just as we drove past, we noticed there was a mother duck and probably about twelve little ducklings stepping off the road and onto the footpath - just in time!

I'd been in a bad mood, so to see a happy little duck family just going about its business in the middle of suburbia, cheered me up somewhat.

But nature has a funny way of achieving balance. Another ten minutes down the road, a bird flew right out in front of me and under my car. It looked like a suicide mission and it certainly didn't look like it was very much alive from my rear vision mirror. It saw me coming, but it flew at me anyway. Crazy bird!

Why did a stinkin' kamikaze bird have to spoil my happy nature moment for the day and put me back into my sombre mood?