Observer: Eloise Bacher
Date: 9 November, 2008
Time: 1200-1230
Location: Riverfront Park
Weather: Mostly cloudy, sunny.
The river has risen and covered the place our class sat just a couple months ago. Almost exactly where we were is a group of ducks bathing. Even from up on the globe I could hear their wings flapping as they splash around. Every few minutes one will stand up and flap it’s wings vigorously, making a loud clapping noise and sending water all over the place. To my left there is a frog that has started calling, and another one across the river is answering it. I can also hear the sparrows that congregate in the blackberries along the river. To the south and the west there are purple-black clouds lurking, but where I am the sun is shining so brightly that I have to squint and the ducks are only a little more than silhouettes. A third frog to my right is now also calling to the other two. In front of me there is a shallow creek-like band of water that separates me from what is left of the gravel bar. On my side there is a patch of mud with what looks like duck tracks. There are quite a few, and so they are indistinct, but some are pretty obvious. And they’re fresh. They could even have been made by the ducks that have finished their bathing and are now settling down to groom. There are too many to journal them all in the time I have, but I draw a few of them, and a map to where they are.
Date: 9 November, 2008
Time: 1200-1230
Location: Riverfront Park
Weather: Mostly cloudy, sunny.
The river has risen and covered the place our class sat just a couple months ago. Almost exactly where we were is a group of ducks bathing. Even from up on the globe I could hear their wings flapping as they splash around. Every few minutes one will stand up and flap it’s wings vigorously, making a loud clapping noise and sending water all over the place. To my left there is a frog that has started calling, and another one across the river is answering it. I can also hear the sparrows that congregate in the blackberries along the river. To the south and the west there are purple-black clouds lurking, but where I am the sun is shining so brightly that I have to squint and the ducks are only a little more than silhouettes. A third frog to my right is now also calling to the other two. In front of me there is a shallow creek-like band of water that separates me from what is left of the gravel bar. On my side there is a patch of mud with what looks like duck tracks. There are quite a few, and so they are indistinct, but some are pretty obvious. And they’re fresh. They could even have been made by the ducks that have finished their bathing and are now settling down to groom. There are too many to journal them all in the time I have, but I draw a few of them, and a map to where they are.
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