Cheep Cheep
A Duck-Tale
The other morning Sarah and I got up, made our coffee, and looked out the window toward the backyard.
There, floating in our pool, was a little duck family.
How cute.
There was the handsome-looking mallard duck with his deep shades of green. You all know I’m a little partial to the animal kingdom. A peacock with all its colors and plumes, a mallard with its beautiful shades of green...
Why can’t I wear clothes like that?
Anyway...
There was the mother duck swimming with a few little babies around her.
Then we noticed another one.
And another.
Four... five... six...
Then seven, eight, nine...
Ten little ducklings.
I loved this: the father duck sat nearby, standing guard over his family while the mother seemed to be doing all the work.
And that reminded me of all the work mothers do.
So much teaching.
So much effort.
So much dedication.
A big shout-out to all the mothers. And yes, the role of the father is an important one as well, as I am learning with our two lovely daughters and my adult son.
Because our pool pump was running, sometimes the little ducklings would catch one of the water jets and suddenly shoot across the pool with amazing speed.
Then they’d have to paddle against the current.
It looked like a Duck Water Park!
And they were getting stronger.
But then Sarah and I started noticing something.
The mother duck climbed out of the pool and up into the jacuzzi area where she could look down at the babies.
Then she’d jump back into the pool, gather them all together, circle them around, and then jump back out.
And slowly we started hearing more:
Cheep... cheep... cheep...
The sounds were increasing.
There was stress in those little voices.
Then we realized something:
The baby ducks couldn't get out.
The coping around the pool was too high.
They were stuck.
That made me pause.
Because when someone in our family feels stuck... we all feel it.
Right now my dad is undergoing some changes in life, and all of us are surrounding him — feeling some of his anxieties, stress, and uncertainty.
Our girls are going through changes too, as is my son.
Good changes.
Healthy changes.
Life changes.
But even good changes can make us feel stuck sometimes.
And when one person feels it...
We all feel it.
We may not make little cheep cheep cheep sounds like ducklings...
But we have our own signals.
Body language.
Verbal language.
Eye contact.
The ease or difficulty in our smile.
The energy we carry.
The way we show up.
We often tell the world exactly how we're doing without ever saying a word.
Maybe that's our invitation:
To notice.
To recognize when someone needs a smile, a gentle word, or simply:
"I hear you."
"I see you."
Now back to our duck family.
Once Sarah and I realized they were stuck, we immediately wanted to fix it.
And that made me think:
How often do I do that in life?
I want to make things right.
I want to bring ease.
I want to solve suffering.
And even when my heart is in the right place...
Sometimes it creates more stress.
Sometimes people aren't ready to receive help.
I know I’ve tried to help people before — unasked, unsolicited — and thought:
"I’m only trying to help..."
While they experienced it as pressure.
Or threat.
Sarah and I built a little natural-looking step out of rocks to help the ducklings climb out.
Then we stepped back.
Sort of.
Because let's be honest...
We had our own agenda.
We wanted them okay now.
So with soft voices and non-threatening movements, we gently guided the family toward the corner.
Dad duck was not happy.
He was quacking at us.
Momma duck looked stressed.
Ten babies.
Can you imagine?
Cheep cheep cheep cheep...
Then one little duck climbed out.
Then two.
Then three and four.
And the others were calling:
"This way!"
"This way!"
"Get out!"
And suddenly eight... nine...
Everyone was out except one.
The smallest one.
The weakest one.
The scared little duck.
All alone.
And sometimes we feel like that too.
And when people try to help us...
Help can sometimes look like danger.
Sometimes when we're overwhelmed, advice doesn't help.
Solutions don't help.
Sometimes all that helps is someone quietly holding space.
Unfortunately I forgot that concept for a moment.
I eased myself into the pool wearing bright yellow shorts.
By the way, I must have looked like some giant mutant duck.
I can only imagine:
"CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP!!"
I slowly guided the little duckling toward the platform.
First try.
Nope.
Second try.
Nope.
Third try.
Nope.
Finally on the fourth try, with its last little bit of energy, it made it onto the platform.
It started to scurry away...
Then suddenly rolled onto its back.
Exhausted.
Completely spent.
Sarah and I were both saying:
"Come on little buddy..."
"You're almost there..."
And then Sarah walked over, like a true mother, and gave it the gentlest little nudge.
The duckling stood up...
And scurried away to join the family.
Happy ending?
Yes.
But also...
There are a lot of little duck teachings here.
We may not say cheep cheep cheep.
But we all have our own language of suffering.
So maybe the invitation this week is:
Can we hear the cheep cheep cheep in the people around us?
Can we offer help without our own agenda?
Can we recognize when someone needs a gentle nudge...
And when they simply need us to sit beside them?
And when we are the duck stuck in the pool...
Can we recognize that sometimes the people around us really do want the best for us?
Sometimes they want us to fly.
And sometimes...
Love only arrives as a small nudge.
It is a practice.
No need to get our feathers too ruffled.
Sometimes we are the one offering the gentle nudge...
And other times we are the little duck — tired, scared, and needing a little help ourselves.
Quack quack.
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
