Why Ducks?

On cool summer mornings at camp, I would wake early, wrap myself in one of the stiff, warm wool blankets that covered my bed, and join my grandmother on the front porch, where she sat in her rocking chair looking out at the lake.  A morning fog usually blanketed the water at this hour. Sometimes we would see a canoe gliding in nothingness and would raise a friendly hand to the fisherman.  We would wait silently, for the first duck to swim in from the right.  Behind her were the ducklings, and we would count.