Monthly Archives: January 2026
You Quack Me Up
Is love all it’s quacked up to be? You betcha.
Back off, boys!
I’m a har-har-harlequin,
Funny little duck,
If you’re look-look-looking for
A girl you’re out of luck.
She’s a sweet-sweet lady duck,
And she is all my own,
Best little sweetheart
I have ever known.
No one comes between us,
She’s mine, mine, mine,
To woo, woo, woo her,
You’d better get in line.
Australian Wood Duck
Another photo from my friends’ holiday in Australia.
Is it a duck or a goose? It seems to have features of both and its Latin name has been adjusted somewhat (from chen to anser?) to cover both features. Not sure about the Latin names, but there is definitely something goosey about this wood “duck.”
Hi,
My friends!
See me here?
I’m a wood duck,
Why am I called that?
No, I’m not made of wood,
I nest in tree cavities
Away from many predators,
My flightless ducklings leap from the tree,
When I call from the ground, they jump to me.
Day is Done
Lord,
Let me
Catch up on
My sleep tonight.
Up before sunrise,
I leave the sheltered bay,
Dragging trolling gear all day,
Trying to fill the boat with fish,
Standing on my feet from dawn ’til dark
To make a living for my family.
The Lunch Menu
“What to do? What to do? Which ones should we go after, Dad?”
“That’s a tough one, Son. So many dinners. So little time….
I guess we watch for a cripple, or a loner, like always.”
Poised
Over
Fields of geese
Eagles search out
Opportunity,
Eyes open for cripples,
Some lone, wandering straggler,
Any kind of anomaly
Lacking the protection of the flock,
A victim to be whisked away for lunch.
Shovelers
Folks!
May I
Introduce
The shovelers.
Their bills are special.
Wide with comb-like strainers
They sweep the water’s surface
Back and forth, swishing and slurping,
Straining out plankton and crustaceans,
Cleaning the water as they eat their lunch.
“Whadda ya say, Missus? Wanna go for a swim?”
“Naaaaah. I’m good. Just catchin’ a few rays.”
**Photo by friend, Sonia.
Look but Don’t Touch
A young puppy knows nothing about porcupines and the pain they can inflict just by being there.
Emma bounced around this one in a field, probably wondering why it didn’t either fly away or come out to play.
Ouch!
Needles.
Avoid them.
Time to back off.
Explore somewhere else.
Leave Mr. Porcupine
Or become a pin cushion.
Naivety comes with a price,
But, for once, listen to your elders.
Best not to indulge curiosity.
The Root Cellar
Perhaps it’s not quite like a fridge, but it was a cool place to store the potatoes, turnips, carrots, beets, and squash.
*Disclaimer – This is not my root cellar but it was on land where I was visiting. The poem is purely fictional (although probably possible).
“Go
Bring back
Potatoes,
Carrots, and squash.
The wicker basket
Is handy to carry
Everything.” — “But, Mom,” I whined,
“It’s so dark in there, and there’s bugs!”
“Nonsense! The bugs are more scared of you.”
Off I went … and of course, I proved her wrong.
The Roundup
Apologies for the fuzzy photos, taken several years ago by this mediocre photographer with a mediocre camera.
You want me to what?
To get up and move?
To get off my butt
And to get in the groove?
A cow hand today
Has no need of a horse,
His ride needs no hay,
It’s a quad ride, of course.
Just fill it with gas
And go roaring around,
No cattle will sass,
And to follow, they’re bound.
There’s always a stray cow
That has to be got,
But magically, ends somehow
In the cow lot.
Birdfeeders
wordsfromanneli 