August and September are family reunion months.
Clans get together all over the country catching up on family members not seen for a year.
It’s no different on the resacas around San Benito.
Mexican Black-bellied Whistling Ducks have arrived en masse as they do every year.
Sure, bird migration is all about the food. According to research, fall in the Valley offers harvested grain fields that draw these colorful migrant and resident ducks to Deep South Texas, but here’s what I think:
Whistling duck families from all over the South get together in the Valley so the new cousins can meet, socialize, spar, compete in games of challenge and get a little advanced training in the practical life skills their parents have surreptitiously been teaching them since birth.
Adults get a much-needed social life after concentrating on family security the last couple of months while the chicks grow and learn to defend themselves.
Instruction continues while one parent keeps watch and the other teaches.
Morning games begin about mid-morning and include formation paddling, straight-line formation, wake/no wake paddling.
There are even lessons about siesta, one of which is pretty basic, but ardently impressive – pick a spot in the shade. Fill the shadow line of a tree trunk; keep moving as the shade line moves.
Where there’s a spot of shade, there’s a pod of ducks hunkered down in it for a rest. All’s quiet on the parade ground.
Individual families group together. Occasionally a young one edges toward a neighboring family only to be told off by the attending adult. Aggressive hissing is demonstrated. The young one, shoulders back, head held high, saunters back to its own family, a little braver.
Quiet time resumes except for the occasional duck, foraging in the grass to nibble at insects, spiders and snails — oh, please! Do have a spider-eating contest!
After nap time, one of the most popular events is the Landing Competition.
Eyes on the target, flaps up, landing gear down, steady as you go . . . .
And they succeed in close-quarters landings.
An adult executes a perfect water-landing technique to the young ducks for the next competition.
Later, under cover of darkness, the masses stir, ever so quietly, in preparation for their nightly flight to near-by fields where they’ll eat their fill, returning to the reunion venue after the sun comes up.
The normal residents, the yellow-crowned night-heron, anhinga, cormorants and others, take the visiting whistlers in stride — they aren’t competition in the food arena.
Resident nutria don’t alarm the whistling ducks to any danger, perhaps sharing the harmonious code of the language of the lake.
And then they’ll be gone again — off for the winter to more southern locales like Mexico, Argentina, Cuba and points beyond.
The only sign they were ever here is the plethora of feathers in the grass — and that’s not a bad thing.
Feathers make a nitrogen-rich fertilizer — steep in water in the shade for a couple of months and then use the liquid to fertilize plants, or rake up the feathers and add them to your compost pile. — You do have a compost pile, don’t you?
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