A good deal of splashing sounds coming from the pond got my attention. I thought maybe one of the neighbor kids had fallen in - it’s been known to happen. As I looked out, it was the dozen or so Mallard ducks that have been hanging out with us for the past week. We had become accustomed to the rough mating-season battles among the drakes (males) that create quite a water fight, but these actions were not the same. Each individual duck was shaking out every feather it could. Stretching neck and wings to their extent and then shuddering right down to their tail feathers. They would do a rapid underwater dunk and pop out to bob and stretch again. Must be a ducky spa day, I thought, then I saw the masses of feathers. Floating on the water, covering the shoreline of the pond, the path up toward the house, everywhere the ducks meandered there were white, downy feathers tumbling in the breeze. A duck dance to get those loose, niggly, wiggly, pokey feathers loose. They would then hop up to our little island bridge to dry off with a great deal of grooming with their bills. Pull, tug, shake, do it again. Those feathers won’t last long on the ground, they get scooped up by the squirrels and other critters to make their little homes cozier.