~By Sumalee~
We like to say that my old dog Laila sent us a blessing of good luck from across the rainbow bridge to finally spot wood duck. It felt like a miracle to us, and we believe it was Laila’s silent good will, wishing us a moment of joy in the midst of loss. After all, such is the wisdom and serenity of a good old dog.
Late winter 2020, we had planned a return trip to Klamath Falls to explore more of the national wildlife refuge complex consisting of Upper Klamath NWR, Klamath Basin NWR, and Tule Lake NWR. We aimed to see the storied mating rituals and dance of the Western Grebe, and on our previous trip to Klamath Basin, expert birders had advised a mid- to late-March visit. Laila and Juniper had joined us on that earlier trip, during which we attended our first birding conference—the Winter Wings Festival. But the trip had been hard on Laila, who at fifteen-plus years old could barely tolerate road trips and disruptions to a sedentary daily routine. It became clear in early March that we would have to cancel our Klamath trip and instead spend the time with Laila at home before putting her to sleep and saving her from any further suffering. That week was all rain and grey, but on the day appointed for the veterinarian to come out to our house to put Laila to sleep, the sun broke through the clouds and shone brightly. We took Laila outside and let her rest in the sunbeams, where she gazed around and watched the backyard birds out chirping and scratching the soil for juicy bits. Later we would learn it was the first day of spring.
After Laila was gone, we missed her dearly and needed something good and true to distract us from grief. We decided to take a local birding trip and headed out to Ridgefield NWR in southwest Washington. The outing coincided with the initial onset of COVID-19, and droves of cars were rambling along the auto tour route. We had spent more than a year searching for wood ducks in many locations, all reportedly ideal habitats, to no avail. Although we didn’t admit we had given up, we held very slim hopes for a wood duck sighting.
Looking out across one of the very first marsh ponds along the route, we saw dozens of familiar migratory waterfowl species dabbling and diving for grub. Then we spotted some curious unidentified individuals sliding surreptitiously in and out of the reeds. They were very small ducks, and we strained to look closer through our binoculars. The gaudy, handsome painted males and the Cleopatra-eyelined females which appeared through our lens immediately spoke wood duck. These bespangled, centurion-helmeted ducks look like the idea of a painted decoy--they don't look real but imagined.
Our excitement and joy instantly gave rise to the notion that this miracle spotting was a gift from Laila. I felt her presence there in another medium. It seemed to us that she granted this sighting, something we longed to see, something good that would also reassure us that we did right by her by letting her go in peace and that she was at peace. After all of our unsuccessful wood duck stake-outs, Laila had led us to these particolored fowl.
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