One day I sat down on the sand near the river. While I sat I was visited by a duck sister (ᓰᓰᑊ sîsîp - Cree). She came boldly to me. She knows that the two legged ones bring food. She came close and when I did not give her food she nipped at my toes pausing in between pecks to meet my gaze and remind me of my duty. I looked deep into her in her eyes and after some time we came to an understanding. She stopped nipping and sat down to guard me from any other feathered visitors.
We sat together as family. Arms and legs pulled in, ears alert to the environment but at ease. Briefly she wandered off to play a goose game but shook that off. She knows what she is. She knows that Geese games are not the ones for her today. She reminded me of the lessons of currents and winds in our lives. She reminded me of the duck’s ability to adjust themselves and slough off the water from their feathers. She reminded me of living as a creature on land and water and sky. She reminded me to share my gifts and inhabit my natural spaces. In her tellings she returned me to the lessons of taking time to sit down and listen. I thank her for the visit.
What lessons have the crawling, flying and swimming relations brought you?
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