Two Lifers
When ducks drop from trees and cowboys drop vowels
When ducks drop from trees and cowboys drop their vowels, life slows down just enough for you to notice the charm of it all. Texas doesn’t just give you wildlife sightings—it gives you characters.
Black-bellied Whistling Ducks have been my favorite ducks since the first time I saw them in Texas, over forty years ago.
A friend and I had stopped at a ragged little country store for a cold drink. Rusted horseshoes, weathered stirrups, and a wagon wheel leaned against the wall. A hitching post stood by the door, as if the Old West simply refused to check the calendar.
Beside the dirt lot stood a gnarled oak tree with a hollow about fifteen feet up. Owl nest, maybe? I tapped the trunk.
A Black-bellied Whistling Duck poked her head out, gave me a look that clearly meant “Tourist,” and glided to the ground. Four ducklings followed—each pausing like they needed permission from gravity—then fluttered after her and disappeared into the cattails.
On the porch sat a cowboy assembled from sun and dust. His chair leaned back farther than seemed advisable, boots hooked against a post to steady either himself or the building. A snakeskin band circled his hat.
Around his waist, a Texas-shaped buckle declared its loyalties with a silver star in the middle, just in case anyone had doubts. A piece of straw rode between his lips, clearly doing most of the thinking.
I tried conversation.
He rocked.
Silently.
Then, without shifting anything but his mouth, he said,
“Tawkin’ ta strangers feels weerd.”
I asked about the ducks.
“Day nes’ in ook haller evry yeer.”
He told me I had a funny accent.
I agreed.
He’d never left Texas.
Didn’t need to.
“Tex’us is th’ bes’ place on God’s green urth, an’ that ain’ braggin’—that’s jus’ how it is.”
It sounded like English the way tumbleweeds resemble landscaping—technically the same category, but nobody should pretend it’s intentional.
I nodded politely and pretended I understood.
I didn’t.
It was a two-lifer day.
The first time I saw Black-bellied Whistling Ducks.
And the first time I met a cowboy whose drawl needed no translation in Texas.
I drove away with the ducks in the cattails and the vowels still stretching behind me.
📜 Moral
Sometimes your lifers have feathers.
Sometimes they wear boots.
If only the Whistling Ducks would hybridize with Mockingbirds (the state bird of Texas) we might get whistlers that could carry a tune. Meanwhile I love your take on a Texas drawl. Two great posts today!
Eric, you sure can paint a picture with words. It’s hard to believe you chose to major in the sciences.