The first week of March came with a roller coaster of emotions. Saturday, March 1 was absolutely amazing. For the first time in months the weather seemed to be warming and there was a moment when I actually considered cleaning off the table on my deck and sitting outside in the sunshine. A large flock of red-winged blackbirds and common grackles arrived that morning and suddenly the yard was full of songs and the murmur of hundreds of birds talking about their plans for the day. It was joyous, it was refreshing, and it was short-lived.

At 12:29 p.m. I received a text message from my brother in law with a photo of his deck. The sky was blue, the sun was warm and bright and he was sitting outside in shorts and a T-shirt. Meanwhile, at my house, it was snowing. Somehow that gorgeous spring morning had only lasted for about three hours. We were all given just a taste of the warm weather to come before being harshly yanked out of that fantasy moment and being thrust right back into winter. March is the price that we all must pay in order to reach April, but I think I may speak for at least some of you when I say, “It’s enough already!”

Still, there have been tantalizing hints that the end is in sight. As the days have lengthened and the morning commute now occurs in the twilight of dawn, rather than in the solid darkness of winter, I have enjoyed doing a little birding. There are always a few crows to look at and there is sometimes the occasional red-tailed hawk to see, but the birds that have buoyed my spirits are the ducks. Here and there, now and then, I will see the silhouettes of small groups of ducks slicing across the sky and just the sight of them fills me with optimism. If the ducks are on the move, then we’re almost free of winter’s grip.

And, of course, the ducks in question are mallards (Anas platyrhynchos). Easily the most recognizable and most widely known of all the ducks in North America, the mallard is a species that can be seen almost anywhere there is water. Lakes, rivers, coastal waters, city ponds and even springtime puddles in hayfields are all likely to attract the attention of mallards as they seek food and potential places to build nests and raise their young. If you have ever gone to a park to feed the ducks, then you have almost certainly seen a mallard. I think that they are the most fun of all the ducks because, under the right circumstances, they will approach humans and spend time with us.

The strange thing about an animal like the mallard is the fact that they are so ubiquitous in their dispersion across the landscape that they are almost invisible to us; hiding in plain sight, as it were. We look at them and look through them at the same time; appreciating their presence, but often failing to actually notice how very interesting they are. One example of this is the classic “quack” of the mallard. Did you know that it is only the females that make this noise? The males are not silent, but their voices are somewhat laryngitic with a definite raspy quality. Anyone can observe this for themselves by simply spending time with a flock of mallards.

The plumage of an adult male mallard is absolutely spectacular. An iridescent metallic-green head that can shift from green to blue in the proper light would itself be enough to qualify the duck as “dazzling,” but then you add the white ring around the neck and the wine-red feathers of the breast and you’ve really got something. Then, of course there are the patches of metallic-blue feathers on the wings (known as the speculum) that are bordered on both sides with lines of bright white. The final touch of class is found in the decorative feathers of the male’s tail, which curl into a graceful circle. The Tree Swallows that nest in my yard invariably include at least one of these feathers in their nests every spring, which I find utterly astonishing.

Female mallards are perfect examples of visual camouflage and, when sitting motionless on their nests, they can basically just “disappear.” This is important because they alone must incubate their eggs for about a month. If you are going to be anchored to the same spot for such a long time, then invisibility is a tremendous advantage. Male mallards, with their gaudy colors, take no part in incubation or even in raising their offspring. Instead, the females will find a suitable nesting spot, fashion a bowl-shaped depression and then line it with down plucked from their own breasts. They then lay a clutch of seven-t0-10 white eggs and, after the final egg is laid, they will commence with their month-long incubation.

After a month, the eggs will all hatch at the same time and in very short order the ducklings will be ready to follow their mother wherever she leads them. Ducks do not feed their young, but they do lead them to places where food is available. So the first destination is water and this can be a very stressful time for mother ducks because the brand new ducklings are so vulnerable, but eventually they get the hang of things and start taking care of themselves.

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I don’t know about you, but just thinking about mother ducks fussing over their new ducklings is enough to warm the heart and lift the spirit. Mallards are already searching the landscape for waters that are beginning to melt and they will only increase in number as the melting progresses. Pairs of mallards will soon bee seen toodling along the rivers, lakes and ponds in our area and then the females will all disappear, doing their best to hide until their cover is blown by the presence of new baby ducklings. I can’t wait!

Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 27 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the US Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or go to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.