Wildlife observations from along the flooded Cannon River in Faribault

Wildlife senses, understands, picks up on nuances that we as humans often fail to notice in our heads-bent-to-our-smartphones, busy scheduled lives.

The recent flooding is a prime example. I saw countless cellphones raised to record floodwaters and rising rivers. I carried my 35mm Canon camera, drawn just like everyone else to document the historic natural event unfolding before me along the Cannon River in Faribault.

But I also noticed the wildlife. They, too, were observing. Watching the water. And watching people invade their river habitat by the hundreds. I sensed how uncomfortable the egret, blue heron, ducks and red-winged blackbirds were amid all the human chaos. So many people and so much traffic.

I expect they longed for quiet. Peace. A respite from the attention. A return to normalcy. No more peering eyes. No more crowds gathering.

And then there were the fish, primarily bullheads, but a few bass, attempting to swim up through water that was rushing down, spilling over the edges of the dam by North Alexander Park. The fish appeared determined to make it to the other side, to the quieter waters of the widened river. It seemed a losing cause to me. But who am I to discourage a stubborn bullhead? If anything, it was fascinating to watch.

Finally, I observed a mama duck and her brood aside the top of the dam. They began edging, descending toward the river. Foolish ducks, I thought, judging the mother mallard. And then I voiced my concern out loud, “Stop, you’ll drown!”

I can only imagine the thoughts of that mother and her six ducklings. “Did that woman really say that, warn us to stay out of the water lest we drown?” If ducks could laugh, the seven of them would have chortled, chuckled, carried on and then shared what they’d heard me say. Quack. Quack. Quackity. Quack.

But it was my husband who spoke for them. “They’re ducks, Audrey,” Randy said. “They can swim.”

Uh, yeah. He was right. But it was the mom in me emerging, the protective spirit that, in that moment, did not separate wildlife from human so focused was I on the dangers of the swollen, swift-moving river.