Y’know, if it wasn’t for the occasional devastating eruption and house-eating lahar, I think I’d actually love living down by Silver Lake. B and I took a walk there near sunset on our last trip, and in the slanting reddish-gold rays of the lowering sun, it was about the most peaceful and beautiful place on Earth. I could spend hours just sitting on a boardwalk and watching the wildlife, from the insects to the birds and beyond.

I think the lake hosts the fastest ducklings on the planet, too. A mother and her group of babies passed us by at one point, swimming under the bridge, and they moved quicker than I’ve ever seen ducks go. One of them rocketed past its siblings so fast that B dubbed it Zipper. Here’s all I could catch of it on camera.

Zipper’s siblings were slightly more sedate, and I was able, through fast camera-slinging, to catch two of them being incredibly adorable in a sunbeam.

This is when the part of me that had a Minnesota manager and hangs around with PZ sometimes screams, “Oh, for cute!”

The family quickly made its way under the boardwalk and into the water lilies on the other side.

Mom kept a close eye on them, but would let them get a little ways away, testing their independence. Here she is catching up.

I love watching momma ducks with their ducklings. They’ve got a great parenting style, letting the little ones be curious and brave, even letting them explore on their own a bit, while they keep an eye on them in a mostly-relaxed fashion. Sometimes they seem to get tense and worried, but this year, most of the families I’ve watched have been very mellow, as if they’re living safe and simple lives.

But of all the ducklings I’ve seen over the years, I think these were the cutest. I actually dropped the ball, my darlings, I’m sorry, but when one got up on a lily pad and scratched behind its ear, showering water droplets everywhere, I didn’t even think to start rolling video until after it has scrambled off and chased after its siblings. It was so adorable it paralyzed us both. But I did, eventually, start filming, and you can squee as you watch them scramble amongst the lily pads. There’s also a bonus red-winged blackbird making the I’m-not-trying-to-get-laid-I’m-Jus’-Checkin’-In sound.

Oh, how I’d love to go back, and perhaps spend an entire season there, hanging out with the birds and contemplating the fact that this landscape was only possible because Mount St. Helens is one violent mofo. As much as she tears down, she builds things of great beauty. And that’s one of the  many reasons I love her so.