A couple of days ago 
I stood by the gazebo
as kadar the musk duck preened itself
to the east.

A couple of people joined me there—
a girl and her mother.
They were looking at it, 
wondering what it was.
Without asking me specifically
I volunteered up:
“It’s a musk duck.”

She repeated it:
“Musk duck.”
And asked: 
“Is it only the males 
who have that flap?”

A good question, 
I thought to myself.

“Yes, and that one is pretty small,
so I guess it’s an adolescent.”

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“The first time I saw one,
I thought it was a platypus.”

We look a little longer
and eventually they go their way.

Today, kadar is back,
coming up out of the murky
depths, just as a woman
and her elderly mother
arrive at the gazebo.

This time I resolve to say nothing
unless asked, feeling I might sometimes
step on others’ freedom
of discovery.

But as I do this, the woman asks me:
“Has it got something in its mouth?”

“No, that’s its bill flap or lobe.
Sometimes he puffs it up for his 
call.”

“Wow, I’ve never seen one before.”

“He spends a large amount of time
under water.”