Migration Surpise

Prior to my current role at the University of Michigan, I worked with Ducks Unlimited – a non-profit conservation organization begun before focusing on the environment was cool. From its website:

Ducks Unlimited is the world's leader in wetlands and waterfowl conservation.

DU got its start in 1937 during the Dust Bowl when North America’s drought-plagued waterfowl populations had plunged to unprecedented lows. Determined not to sit idly by as the continent’s waterfowl dwindled beyond recovery, a small group of sportsmen joined together to form an organization that became known as Ducks Unlimited. (http://www.ducks.org/about-du?poe=hometxt)

During my tenure with DU, I learned about conserving wetlands (inspiration for what’s happened here at the farm), waterfowl biology, how habitat fragmentation contributes to predator success, migration patterns and other duck-notes. I remain proud of my association with the organization and continue to attend various fundraisers staged by the group.

Today, the notion of migration patterns arose as I had a serendipitous event while deviating from my own migration pattern. Okay, it’s more like a nice surprise after changing my routine.

For years, on the way home from work, I’d stop at a certain watering hole where I met my friend Howard (who turns 89 next month) and numerous bandits, scallywags, pirates, and other folks I proudly call friends. Due to some management changes and what I considered ill-advised business decisions, I went from “regular” to occasional customer. So be it.

Today was one of those occasions when I was a customer. My pal Renae was tending bar, Jarret held court at the bar’s eastern end, Rob was to the north, and Tom, a long-time Ann Arbor restaurateur and friend, anchored the south side (obviously, a U-shaped configuration). I settled in with my pen and crossword, kibitzed with Renae about her children, Tom about U-M sports, and Jarret about how the day was treating us. The chat diminished and I focused on Will Shortz’s latest effort to frustrate us crossword nerds.

Howard, holding court flanked by Jarret, Karen, and his son.

Twenty minutes or so later, I successfully set the puzzle aside and started scanning the rest of the paper. Shortly thereafter, a voice beckoned, “Send that puzzle over so I can check your work.” There was only one person who routinely razzed me in that way: Howard.

Sure enough, my friend was being helped onto the bar stool by his son and his wink told me he was in good spirits and happy to be out and about. Renae chased around the bar to embrace him; Jarret was smiling ear-to-ear; I waited behind Renae for my own hug.

He complimented me on the soup I had dropped at his house and scolded assurances that I should stop by anytime. It was great to see him out, as hale as I’ve seen in a while, and enjoying the energy of a room full of well-wishers.

My phone rang and a small but important errand arose. I left as Howard and his son were starting dinner; Jarret and the rest of the bandits were in high spirits, and my smile helped guide me home.


Duck image reported to be in the public domain and available here: Duck Picture