Usually, when one sees waterbirds paddling round placidly up here, they’re ducks. There’s nothing much mysterious about ducks except for their genitals. I can’t look at a mallard anymore without thinking about feathery little rapists. Thanks, Ed Yong. Thanks so much.
Back in the days when ducks were just a semi-domestic feature of the local ponds, and I lived in a complex with a lovely little pond with a fountain in the middle, I used to enjoy watching them float around. And I noticed that in the wintertime, they were joined by some apparent cousins. Little black and white things, they were, which seemed a bit out of place amidst the locals. I figured they were migratory something-or-others, and always liked having the bit of variety.
I never suspected they surfed.
Lake Washington was being whipped up into whitecaps by the wind, big swells and so forth, and this wee delight was just bobbing like a cork. Looked very much in its element. Which, I suppose, it was.
You have no idea how hard it is to get a good photo of a waterbird when it’s on a choppy lake in the wind with the clouds scudding over the sun, and the thing’s fairly far away.
Also, it was swimming. For the fun of it, seemingly, just randomly turning this way and that and riding the swells.
You know, I kinda wish I had one for my bathtub. Not a live one, my cat is a definite only child and hates ducks and all related waterfowl, but a nice little rubber one. Frickin’ adorable.
There was another one, too. I’m not sure if it’s the same species or not – it looks a bit different – but this one was awesome. It’s a total surfer.
It would paddle out, and then catch a wave.
Of course, by the time I caught on to what it was doing and had the camera all ready to shoot a video of this awesome surfer bird action, it dove down for lunch. Bugger.
Right, my dear ornithologists. Have at.