Henrietta Hay's Column

Walking appeared very early in the history of locomotion, but it has never been one of my favorite forms of getting anyplace. In my youth running and jumping and hiking (up mountains) were fine, but even then walking on flat ground was rather dull. I tend to agree with Fred Allen who commented that; "I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me." I know many children today who have never walked a step in their lives. They run full tilt from one disaster to another. But now that my running days are over and my doctor insists that I get some exercise I find myself doing a lot of just plain old walking.

It is fun to watch all the people for whom walking has become a daily activity. They are all ages and they go at all speeds and at all times of day and in all kinds of clothes. I am told that early morning mall walks are very popular, and some day I may get up early enough to try one. Meanwhile, I just walk around my neighborhood. I can walk indefinitely when I am with someone and my mouth is going as fast as my feet, but when I am alone, it is a big bore.

Recently I started out on a solitary walk and was grumbling to one of my neighbors. He suggested that if I would keep my eyes and mind open I would see all sorts of interesting things. Imagine that - walking for knowledge. It was worth a try.

We have several more or less domesticated ducks who live close by and that morning I startled several of them into the water. As each duck hit the water, its tail feathers vibrated. So I went back and asked my neighbor why that was. He was not sure, but suggested that maybe ducks don't like to get wet. Or maybe I should ask a duck. That just goes to show that you should never ask a question unless you're prepared for the answer.

The domestic arrangements of ducks leave me quite confused anyway. Last year we had a black duck and a white duck and two baby ducks who were, to no one's surprise, black and white. This year I have not seen mama and papa, but the teenagers have taken up with four mallards. One morning I found two eggs in the grass by the lake, one broken and one whole, being guarded by but not warmed by two mallard drakes. A few hours later the eggs and the male guardians were gone. The next day there were two more whole eggs, out in the open and not a duck in sight. The eggs look exactly like hens' eggs. I am afraid to ask my friend what that means. I really don't have time.

Ducks really do manage to furnish a fair amount of entertainment. The day after the heavy rain I was walking past a field, which had a couple of inches of standing water. And right in the middle was one duck, looking slightly bemused. I did wonder where he thought he was.

I was walking the day the B-1 bomber flew right over my head, at head-height it seemed. It was obviously military, was awfully big and made a huge amount of noise. As it got farther away I could see how graceful it was and spent the rest of my walk pondering the contrast between the grace of the plane and the devastation it was designed to cause.

Another day I walked past a soccer game between two teams of eight-year-old girls. At that age enthusiasm exceeds skill, but they were very earnest and were trying hard to do what their coaches had told them to do. They were having a great time in their blue and yellow uniforms, with their ponytails bouncing as they ran. But they were little girls and they had been raised to be polite. Too much "polite" on the soccer field doesn't cut it. Some of them were really in there playing hard, but others gave the impression that they would be much happier if the ball did not come their way. Aha, another philosophical question arises from walking. How do we train little girls to be aggressive enough to survive in the world they are facing when society tries to tell them to avoid conflict?

My friend was right. Walking offers great opportunities for philosophical musing and occasional bits of knowledge. And it can even be fun if you happen to meet a duck.