Make way for ducklings.

For reasons that remain a mystery to me, we federal employees have today, a Tuesday, off for Veteran's Day. I'm certainly not complaining -- it's nice to have a holiday in the middle of the week! I contemplated skiing or climbing today, but decided to take advantage of the day off and the beautiful weather to take my snazzy bike out for a spin.

The Platte River trail is one of my favorite rides in town, but I've never ridden it mid-week before. It was almost like having my own private bike path -- aside from a few homeless men crouched by the creek under the bridges, I only passed a few other cyclists (just enough to feel safe, really). The absence of traffic allowed me to let my mind wander and to take in my surroundings in a way I typically can't when I have to worry about scanning the path for people and objects.

My sense of smell is always pretty powerful (I joke that it's overcompensating for my eyes and ears), and today it seemed to be working in high gear. As I rolled along, I could smell the changes in the landscape, from the fresh cut golf-course grass to the dry leaves collecting in the underpasses to the smell of the South Platte itself -- not unpleasant, but you wouldn't want to drink it. On the way back, I must have been hungry, because I felt bombarded by intense food smells I've never noticed on the path before. At one point, the smell of chicken noodle soup filled the air, followed a mile or two later by fresh-baked cinnamon rolls. Closer to downtown, I thought I smelled popcorn, but realized it was coming from a nearby construction area.

But the best moment of my ride came about 15 miles into it, right after I turned around. I saw something on the path ahead, and slowed down to try to navigate it. As I got closer, I realized it was a conga line of ducks, waddling purposefully across the path to the river. I stopped and watched as they shuffled along, wiggling their little duck tushies and quacking happily. They paid no attention to me on their way to the water, although one or two of them tossed a beak in my direction as if to say, this is our world, but you're welcome to share it.

It's been a while since I've had such a close interaction with non-domesticated animals in what really is the middle of the city. I was reminded not only of one of my favorite children's books (as my title today suggests), but of the blue-footed boobies I encountered in the Galapagos Islands. These colorful birds spray their guano-ring nests in the middle of the trails and waddle about tending their eggs, oblivious to the camera-happy tourists stepping around them.

There's no great point to this observation (and I need to take a shower now so I can get down to the serious business of laundry and cookie-baking). But this little ducky moment made my day, so I wanted to share it.