We stood in her bedroom and peered into her closet, then I grabbed a shirt and was about to close the sliding door. It was Dad sitting on my shoulder, who reminded me, as he always does, to pull the string and turn off the overhead light.

Next I remember, she was getting ready to walk the three of us down the road to the bus stop. And grab the next-door neighbors on the way. We all always walked together.

That was my childhood neighborhood. My adult neighborhood is a wee bit different, but in a way, really the same. The length of our road is the same, with the same number of houses lining the street. We live at the dead end as my family did growing up. And it’s nothing but field and forest beyond.

One of my favorite parts about my current neighborhood is the vernal pool that I refer to as “MY” vernal pool even though it’s on a neighbor’s property. So, neighbors are still an important part of my life.

And while visiting the vernal pool to check on my amphibian friends yesterday as days of rain drew to a close, I discovered two new residents I hadn’t met in this space before.

Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Mallard have visited before, but in 30+ years of my journeys to this spot, I’d never encountered them. My first response was to scare them away. Thankfully, I came to my senses quickly.

But in those first few moments, all I could think about were the tadpoles that were using the pool to develop. Their moms and dads had left the pool just after the eggs that contained embryos that turned into the said tadpoles emerged. And because those moms and dads only spend about two weeks in the pool and then return to their upland habitat for fifty more weeks of the year, I always feel it is my duty to watch over and protect them. And the ducks . . . might gobble them up.

But she excited the pool and looked tall and poised and I was certain their visit was just for a moment and so I gave thanks that I’d had the chance to spot them.

He added his own stature to the landscape. And my presence seemed not to annoy either of them.

Though my concern was that they’d gobble all the critters I chose to protect, I did think that if they had any interest in the larval Mosquito wigglers or their pupal tumblers that looked like little bullet forms, then have at it and eat away. Just don’t touch my Wood Frog and Spotted Salamander tadpoles. “MY” tadpoles. Synonymous with “MY” vernal pool. Located on a neighbor’s property.

As I walked around the pool, the Mallards swam, and I realized that I’d forced them into the spot where the egg masses had been laid and I wondered how many they’d already eaten.

And then . . . they did start foraging. My only hope was that I know tadpoles quickly dart under leaves, so that might protect them. But what else could the ducks be consuming? Aquatic plants are few in this particular pool. Seeds, however, are abundant, so there was that thought. But really, I’m sure they were dining on my buddies as well as macro-invertebrates.

I tried not to think about it. Until I did.

Two years ago, we had rain all spring and summer and this pool, which typically dries out by mid to late June, was full until September, and for the first time in my memory of decades of visits, I witnessed the tadpoles developing hind legs first and then front legs.

Last year, however, due to drought conditions, all dried out in a short time, and if any tadpoles metamorphed, it was quick. And I think this year’s egg masses spoke to that for there were far fewer Wood Frog masses, but over forty Spotted Salamander masses. Perhaps the latter sensed the changing conditions last year and enough were able to develop quickly into adults.

On the way home, I searched the trees in our woods and finally was rewarded with one showing off the suds of a rainy day–when pine salts turn into bubbles at the base of a tree.

The better surprise occurred just up the trunk, where I suddenly keyed in on intense activity, in the form of Crane Flies canoodling and jockeying for a chance to canoodle. They were fervent in their attempts.

Today dawned SUNNY, and after church I headed back out to the pool. At first I didn’t see the ducks, but within moments realized they were still present. And I began to come to terms with their presence because really I love them too. I just don’t want them to eat all my other friends.

While I looked down, a cat-like meow called my attention upward and there I spotted a female Yellow-bellied Sapsucker. And I was drawn back in time to watching Sapsuckers raise families in our yard and on land trust property and I wondered if this female was a momma and if so, where had she hidden her gang?

And then, because of the sunshine, I could peer into the water through my polarized sunglasses and tada, I still had tadpoles. This momma was pleased and proud. So, maybe I could share the space with the Mallards after all–as long as they promised to not eat all of my babies.

In the mix, I also spotted Predaceous Diving Beetles, and of course, the ubiquitous Mosquito larvae.

As for my ducks, ah yes, I’d now accepted them as mine. Really, they are a handsome couple. My next question for them is this: how long will they remain? That, I know, depends on how long the pool holds water. Which depends on how much precipitation falls from the sky. One thing leads to another, which leads to another, and so life goes on.

Upon a floating log within the pool, more life happened, this time in the Midges trying to canoodle with other Midges as a Crane Fly looked on.

As for the ducks, they again moved under the branches where the egg masses had been, but this time they preened.

And into the midst of all, in flew a couple of Black and White Warblers, and I felt rewarded once again for being in this place at this time.

Zebra birds might be another suitable description.

A few minutes later and Mrs. Mallard demanded my attention once again as she took a bath.

And then she climbed upon a rock in the pool, while he circled around for a while, protecting her or so it seemed.

She finally settled and he joined her, pausing to preen.

And then they both took a nap. Apparently my presence wasn’t a concern.

Thank you, Mom, for your visit. It was so awesome to spend some time with you last night. And thank you for making me realize that we don’t have to necessarily be moms to human children, though I do give great thanks for our boys who have been in touch throughout the day even though we couldn’t be together, to be nurturing. To all who guard and watch over human babes, and amphibians, and birds, and insects, including monarchs, and furbabies, and you name it: Happy Mother’s Day. Your efforts are gallant. Your souls are brave. Your hearts are full.

I love it when my parents show up in my dreams, but couldn’t believe my good luck today to wake up after a visit from Mom.