There is a curious rhythm to the days after our India trip. The usual things still occupy our time – school, work, projects, commutes, the changing landscapes of nature, and all the rest of it. Maybe it is the throes of a winter season, or the fact that after the intense ceremonies of the beginning of the month, the quiet is disconcerting, but we felt on edge.
Like the hedgehog, we found ourselves peeking out of our hidey holes to see if life is normal, and finding that it is, were somewhat taken aback. Do you mean to say that we must plan to prune the roses?
Oh well, all right. If you insist, I suppose.
One morning, the son and I finding ourselves at a loose end decided to take a bike ride to dissipate some of this energy. 
“Amma! Look – I just saw a hedgehog peep out.”
“Oh nice! It is close to February, so it must be checking.”
“I didn’t see if it saw its shadow though – we were going too fast!” said the son.
It was a lovely day – the feel of wind against our cheeks, the gentle cumulus clouds overhead, and the bay hosting a large variety of birds. We stood there taking in the beautiful sights when hundreds of birds took flight all at once, and then, as though nothing had happened, flocked back to their original place a few moments later. The son and I had a number of ideas as to what caused the disturbance, each more juvenile and silly than the next, but left us cackling all the same.
No one could deny the beautiful shared experience of the disruption – the birds heaving in one smooth cacophony and the humans ashore fumbling quickly to capture the sudden movements and failing miserably.
It reminded me of the book I was reading the previous day, On Duck Pond – By Jane Yolen Pictures by Bob Marstall.
As I walked by the old Duck Pond
Its stillness as the morning dawned
Was shattered by a raucous call:
A quack of ducks both large and small …
An understanding quickly dawned:
We’d shared a shock, and now a bond
And I was feeling very fond,
Of everyone on old Duck Pond.
As always the day out in nature surrounded by the fabulous clouds, the sun’s rays, the beautiful lights of the ocean, the stories the son and I swapped on our ride, the birds, first signs of spring in the wildflowers by the bay, had weaved its magic, and we returned home refreshed in mind and spirits.
P.S: A group of ducks, as Jane Yolen mentions in her book, are known by a number of names:
A raft of ducks
A paddling of ducks
A badelynge of ducks
Also, bunch, grace, gang or team.
Nourish-n-Cherish 