Yesterday was the warmest, brightest, sunshiney-est day we've seen in
Erie for quite a while, so when I got a phone call from my brother, who
attends college half an hour away, I wasn't surprised to hear that he
was outside enjoying the nice weather. His way of drinking in the beauty
of the day was to sit by a large pond near his dorm and idle away the
minutes watching the ducks. "There are geese here too," he confided,
"but I just have a real soft spot for ducks." So much so that his
current profile picture on Facebook shows only his outstretched hand and
an insistent duck flapping up to snatch the pellets in his palm.
I'm not sure if he ever read Make Way for Ducklings,
but I know he'd like it. This Caldecott Award-winning book by Robert
McCloskey has been charming children and adults alike for six and a half
decades. The sepia-tone drawings are richly detailed, particularly the
various landmarks around Boston, the kindly policeman Michael and the
feathery Mallard family that starts out as just the Mrs., whose idea of
what constitutes a proper nesting ground is more limited than her
husband's.
She's very firm on this matter, and rightly so, for
she's about to bring a beautiful brood into the world, all downy
feathers, stubby wings, waddling feet, bright eyes and smiling beaks.
Graceful in flight, cozy while nestling, indignant when vehicles get too
near, proud when bystanders compliment her ducklings, the determined
mama is the star of the story, the momentum behind the marvelous
sequence of events, particularly after her husband goes off for an
expedition and requests that she meet him a week later in the park,
which is nearby but can't be reached on foot without running into a
couple of roads.
I do think, however, that Michael is my
favorite character. He's a large enough figure to be imposing as he
strolls around with his night-stick with his chest puffed out. But he
uses his authority to protect the lives of these small, noisy citizens,
bringing traffic to a halt so the nine ducks can cross safely into the
park. He looks like such a nice man as he stands there with one hand up
and a whistle in his mouth, calmly directing the befuddled drivers. His
precautions come at some inconvenience to himself, too, as he rushes
along, huffing and puffing to reach the corner where the Mallards are
quacking at the cars and then off to call the station for another escort
into the park itself.
The text is very readable, with plenty
of dialogue to add variety to the narration. Mr. and Mrs. Mallard
exchange some words with each other, and later the police and various
townspeople comment on the duck promenade. The most memorable "talking",
however, comes in the form of quacking, which is done most
enthusiastically by Mrs. Mallard and her eight ducklings, all of whose
names end in "ack". I don't think there are many words that will cause
consternation, except perhaps for a few place names and the phrase "all
of a dither," whose meaning should be clear by the agitation Mrs.
Mallard displays in the accompanying sentences and illustration.
Duck lovers of all ages should have a quacking good time with this
classic tale that encourages consideration for our fellow creatures. In
fact, I think I will recommend it to my brother right now...
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