In the Rain

You may recall that a few weeks ago I had my first stalker, and that, well, that stalker was duck. An angry duck. Yeah, the little bastard harassed me for like a week.

Well, turns out maybe I wasn’t being stalked after all. When I went out to drive to work yesterday (no, not with Hitler – with my son, Disco) there was this hen mallard with a bunch of little chicks coming out of my shrubbery. I would have taken a picture, but I couldn't find my phonera.

I mean the shrubbery in my yard. It probably isn’t good when the shrubbery in your yard is so thick that a duck can hide there for a few weeks and you never notice it.

Well yeah, anyway the drake (the boy duck) – in true duck fashion, was long gone. He had better things to do that raise kids. Like they say, ‘lord love a duck’.

He made up the name himself. My son, not the duck. I came home one day and he said, ‘hi dad, it’s me, Disco’. He was 4 then, but I still call him Disco sometimes.

I took it as a sign that spring is still upon us. The ducks were a sign, not my son naming himself Disco.

Not that I needed any reminders of spring. I mean, yesterday I rode my bike in the rain for the first time since, well, the day before. I decided that the crappy thing about spring is that it is inconsistent. One day its nice out, and the next day it sucks. Or sometimes it sucks for entire weeks with one or two good days in between. At least in the winter you know the weather is going to suck and you can make adjustments, but you can’t adjust for inconsistency.

As if the ducks and the inconsistency weren’t enough I saw that the plywood coyotes have begun their annual migration back to the high country, where I assume they come from. Yeah, I was out riding and saw this group engaging in a little coyote beach play on their way up the canyon.

Its not every day that you see a pack, err, bunk of plywood coyotes engaging in beach play. In the rain.